Chapter 4:
War is the only place where we can be complete. Battle can be the only activity where excellence can be meaningful. Do not believe that you can be scholar, a philosopher, or a leader of men. You are a warrior. When you are not inflicting death, you are not justifying your life.
— Daenyathos, "War Incarnate", Warhammer 40,000
August 6th, 2215
Weeks had passed since Miranda-S2-106 had joined the ranks of SIGMA Delta Company. It had admittedly taken her a few days to realize that to even think of disobeying, in any possible way, would be to invite massive workloads onto everyone in the Company, and double that onto John, who, aside from his friends Justin and George, was really the only one who had warmed up to her immediately. Certainly, after she'd been forced to work alongside Delta Company for so long, they all came to regard her as the 'de-facto little sister', despite the fact that none of them were more than a year older than the other. The pep-talk John had given her had also helped to set her mind straight, and now, mere days before she was set to leave, a somber attitude was beginning to settle upon the Company.
No SIGMA had ever 'left' the program, not a I, not a II, no one. Many I's had retired, definitely, but if they ever were needed - like some had been during the Mercenary wars - they would not hesitate to pick up arms and fight, but no one ever actually left the Program. Miranda would be making history in more ways than one, both being the first female SIGMA II, and the first one to ever truly leave the Program.
Currently, Delta Company was enjoying their Saturday, their one, bi-monthly day off, or what they called the 'McGraw Day', in the mess hall. John, Justin, George, and Miranda were chatting at their usual table, when the four heard the telltale signs of commotion. It had been near instant, and nearly universal: when the doors opened, everyone got to their feet, and everyone - Miranda included - almost instantly reached for their gun, expecting some sort of training exercise or an ambush. But when they saw the five and a half foot tall man, with his cybernetic arm, his jet black T-Shirt, dark blue jeans, metal cane, and broad smile, everyone relaxed, save for Miranda, who only became confused.
"I…" She looked around, for the first time in weeks she saw smiles on everyone's faces, as they slowly swarmed the Human scientist. "John, what's going on?" She asked, confusedly.
"That is Christopher McGraw." John supplied, a faint grin playing on his own features.
"So?" She didn't have to show confusion at the fact that McGraw was here, since he and her father had begun hanging out, she'd all but learned that whenever something was odd with the Alliance, McGraw could be found there, cracking inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times.
"He made the program."
"And?" Miranda asked, her dark blue eyes filled with confusion, "shouldn't you hate him?" Something wasn't clicking for her.
"Not when he's essentially the only Human being out there that treats us like… Well… Humans." George said, before he smacked Justin on the back and the two strode over to the crowd, they could hear McGraw's loud, boisterous laughter.
"He's pretty much our father figure, Miranda." John explained, as he nodded over to the area where the more patient ones were sitting down, and waiting for an opportunity to speak to the man. "He might have put us through this, but he said he knows what it's like to have a hellish childhood. And every time, he apologizes to us for this."
"Him?!" Miranda didn't believe it, she remembered the conversations McGraw and her father would have. Her father would - obviously without knowing she was around the corner, listening in - suggest such outrageously immoral business and social opportunities, experiments, and so on, and McGraw would only go on to propose things that made even her father blush. He was smart, there was no doubt in her mind about that, but she didn't see him at all as a caring person, that could win the affection of child soldiers, child soldiers he had, in essence, created, even!
"Yeah, him." John said, after the two sat down. "See that?" He pointed over to the long-haired scientist, who was addressing each and every SIGMA Teen by name, commenting on how they'd grown, asking them how they were, and answering any question they would give him. "He's taken the time to memorize each and every one of us. Not just the eighty in Delta Company, but the six hundred twelve SIGMAs in the S2 program." He stated.
"He knows the names of all of the - you?" Miranda looked perplexed, she didn't believe it.
"Yup." Said John, "that's not the only reason we respect him, though."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing earns a SIGMA's respect like going through what they do." John said, "twenty two ten. He told us then, and apparently someone in the Echo Company broke into tears, started crying 'why did you do this to us?'… He was angry. He wasn't the first one to resent McGraw, of course, but at that point we only liked him because he gave us our days off." John explained, "but seeing that kid cry did something to McGraw. A month later, he took a break from everything. And not just a few weeks, he wasn't seen or heard from for an entire year." He paused, "want to know what he did?"
"What?"
"He went through what we did." He said, "all eight companies of us. He spent a month and a half with everyone. He went through our training, and he didn't do it with his cyber arm, either." John explained, fondly remembering the days when McGraw himself had been chewed out by Ducard. " 'No advantages for me!', he said. And he didn't want any sort of special treatment, either. If he fucked up, he wanted to know just as if we would. It was during that year that, like clockwork, we realized he truly did regret what he's put us through. We really warmed up to him, after that." He explained.
"But…" Miranda obviously knew more about McGraw than these child-soldiers did, "I heard him say it himself. The machines in his brain, that enhance his intelligence… They removed his ability to become emotionally attached to things…" She looked from the distant McGraw, to John, back to McGraw, "so… How?"
"Maybe he sees us as the kids he can't have." Said John.
"Can't?"
"Well, won't." John corrected, "he doesn't want kids… But I think I can tell, we're all he's willing to have… His 'mark on the galaxy'." He chuckled.
"So… You all love him… Because he spends time with you?" Miranda looked at John, she was less confused than before, but still felt like something was missing.
"After he trained with us for that year, he explained to us what we were supposed to be. He didn't bullshit us, he told us straight up what we were, what we were meant to be, and what we were going to become." John explained, " 'Humanity's Protectors', he'd called us. 'Warriors like no other', he'd said we would become. After that, we'd started learning about him, and he us. Eventually, he pretty much became our father." John said, "where Ducard and our instructors would be the immovable object, McGraw would be our focal point. He'll defend us if we need it… Politically, I mean. He has, before, actually. The Alliance was thinking of cutting funding, McGraw himself funded us until he fought for continued federal funding. That earned a lot of points."
Miranda nodded, and nearly jumped when she heard a new, much deeper, but lightened voice enter the conversation.
"Oh yeah! That was fun! I can't believe you remember that, John!" Said McGraw, who loomed over the two.
"Can you honestly say you expected any of us to forget?"
"I can honestly say I thought Ducard'd keep it on the down low." McGraw chuckled, as he sat down on the floor in front of them. He pointed to Miranda, "you. I don't remember seeing you here last time. What the hell, Australia not hellish enough for you? Need something else to try and kill you?"
"Err… What?"
"Why are you here?" He asked slowly, loudly, as the crowd slowly meandered over to them. "Last I remember, you were at your father's mansion in Australia."
"You mean you didn't suggest this to him?" She asked, confrontationally, "apparently you made this program."
She didn't miss John's undertoned whisper, "thin ice." She also didn't miss the accompanying stares she was getting from the other child soldiers.
"No." McGraw said simply, "orphans is the name of the game, here." He explained, "I don't take folks with actual families. Girls too, us guys've got the better build -" Without warning he snapped his fingers, lifted both of his arms, and pointed at George "- show 'er Georgie!" And on that instant's notice, George flexed his developed arms in a classic body-builder's pose. "haha!" He laughed. "See what I mean?" He asked, returning to the casual tone immediately.
"Ignoring that… It was my Father."
"Oh that asshat." McGraw interrupted, with a grin.
"I… confronted him one day."
"You dumbass." He said through barely stifled laughter.
"And next thing I knew I was here."
"Lucky bastard."
"What?"
"Think of it, you've got six hundred twelve brothers willing to get themselves killed for you." McGraw said, no one in the room missed the nods of affirmation from the eighty SIGMA Teens. "If anything, your Dad, in his own stupid way, kind of did you a favor."
"So you seriously had nothing to do with this?" McGraw shook his head, "so how did he know about the program?" That had been one thing she'd always wondered, but hadn't at all been able to figure out. She had tried, once, but she had very nearly been caught by the ever-so-lightly sleeping SIGMA Ones.
"Well, he funds it, doesn't he?" Said McGraw, faking Miranda's accent in a slightly condescending way, "you can't fund a program and not know what it is -" he suddenly dropped the faux accent, "- oh my god, that was more Scottish than it was Australian, wasn't it?" He shrugged, "my apologies."
"My father funds the SIGMA Twos?" McGraw nodded.
"So, let me get this straight. You pissed off Daddy Dearest, and got sent to hell?" McGraw summarized, and when he received a nod from the only female in the room, he nodded too. "Well. That sucks, doesn't it? This permanent?"
"I'm leaving on Tuesday."
"Wow." McGraw looked surprised, "that's a bigger surprise than him sending you here…" He thought for a moment, his eyes darting too and fro as he went over notes and thoughts only he could see. After a moment, he nodded again before he grabbed his metallic cane and hauled himself to his feet. "Now, who wants to know what?" He asked, signaling the 'question time', immediately several dozen hands flew into the air, and several dozen child soldiers began shouting choruses of 'me! Me!'.
The rest of the day passed by in a blur. McGraw had answered hundreds of questions, told dozens of stories, and filled the SIGMA Teens' heads with so many random facts that some of their minds had considered forgetting their ingrained skills to remember these facts. Of course, that was nearly impossible, the SIGMAs had been taught of battle for so long that to even consider that one could forget their skills would be ridiculous. Eventually though, the day had to end, and Ducard had to come in and round everyone up. The SIGMA II's of Delta Company bid farewell to Christopher McGraw, or, as they preferred to know him, to 'Chris S1-612'. He bid them farewell again, but before he left to visit Echo Company, he pulled Miranda aside to speak with her.
The perplexed Miranda waited to be spoken to, she knew he had a point he wanted to make.
"So when're you planning on busting out?" McGraw asked bluntly.
"Excuse me?" Demanded a bamboozled teenager.
"I know the look in your eye." Stated McGraw, "the look of a child who simply hates their father. I know because I did, I still do, I hope the bastard's rotting in the hell he didn't believe in as we speak." He stated bluntly, "so I'll ask again: When are you planning on leaving him?"
"I…" Stared at him, long and hard. "How do you know I won't stay?"
"Because I have this…" McGraw produced a data-pad, and handed it to Miranda. "For you." He gave it to her, "you open that up when you get back home, then tell me you want to stay." He stated.
"What is it?"
McGraw looked at her for a moment, his goofy façade gone from his face. "Call it… A taste of things to come. You weren't the first." He stated, before he smiled again, patted the teenager on the shoulder, and gave her a quick salute, before he left for his personal shuttle.
That night, as Miranda lay awake in her bunk, her mind was racing. What did McGraw mean, she wasn't the 'first'? What was on the data pad he'd given her? Why had he called it a 'taste of things to come'? Eventually, she simply couldn't hold her curiosity. She could thank her damned father for this, he had instilled within her a constant drive to know everything she was capable of, and this was within her grasp, literally, it was in the footlocker at the foot of her uncomfortable bed. She reached within and removed the data pad, and after she covered herself in the blankets, began reading by its dim, orange light.
The first thing she saw was a message from McGraw. It read:
You impatient idiot. You opened it before you got home! … Can't say I expected different, I hope this convinces you: I look after my own, even if they've been 'mine' for only a month.
- Chris.
She rolled her eyes, and scrolled through to the next document.
Mr. Lawson,
As per your request, I have created a condensed summary of the Alison Experience. Hopefully Project Miranda will work out better.
P.S. - What has your failure said about your goals? Think about this before you 'delete' another one.
- Jason McGraw.
Miranda could feel her heart begin to race. What was the 'Alison Experience'? Why did the correspondence make reference to the 'Miranda' Project? Was that the project that had birthed her? What did she not know? Eyebrows crunched together in a confused gesture, she continued reading.
July 14th, 2184: Dynasty 01 is born. Named 'Alison', birth time: 9:36:19 Pm, Alliance Standard Time. Birth Weight: 6 ibs, 12 ounces.
October 14th, 2184: Alison speaks first words, exactly two weeks before her first unassisted steps. Words: Father.
(Journal Entry October 14th, 2184:
Alison spoke for the first time today. Her mind has developed fantastically, I shall begin speech lessons immediately, as brain scans show her Broca's Area and Wernicke's Area are both at least twice as far along as any normal child of her age.
If you are reading this after she becomes the Director for Affairs, all I shall say to you Jason McGraw is genetics can and will beat machinery, every time.
Journal Entry End)
December 25th 2184: Alison, capable of basic speech and understanding, shows glee at the prospect of Christmas. When given a choice between an Abacus, a Doll, a toy gun, and a book, she chooses the doll.
Henry noted: This shows me that she is more social minded than scholarly minded. He then proceeded to give her the book, confusing the child.
July 14th, 2185: Alison, now one year old, is capable of speech on the level of a toddler and is perfectly able to walk on her own. She shows great aptitude for mathematics and language skills, and has shown skill in speaking English, and German. Henry forced her tutors to switch to Spanish, given its much greater prominence in Alliance Space. One tutor questions the morality of forcing such a young child through such advanced teachings, the tutor was promptly fired.
August 18th, 2191: Alison, ten years old, shows great desire to enter public schooling. Outright denied by her father.
(Journal Entry August 18th 2191:
The Tantrum was legendary. A perfect ten year old can, indeed, throw a perfect tantrum. It did not change anything, and she has been grounded for six days.
Journal Entry End.)
July 14th 2195: Alison, now fourteen, begins to question her father himself, as she learned more about who and what she is. Rebellious tendencies soon begin.
(Correspondence July 19th 2195:
Lawson,
She will find out.
She will rebel.
If you cannot appease her, consider a Plan B.
- McGraw.
Correspondence End.)
July 15th 2195: Project Miranda begun.
Miranda's heart was hammering in her chest, as she tore her eyes away from this data-pad. Her hands were shaking, and her eyes were wide, despite her desperate urge to shut them. What did this all mean? There was a Lawson child before her? Why hadn't her father ever told her?!
Unable to contain herself, Miranda looked back to the dull orange glow of the data pad and continued reading.
August 19th, 2201:
(Journal Entry August 19th 2201:
This is just what I need. Aliens!
Alison's been sneaking out of the house late at night, she's obviously aware I'm planning to replace her, and now I've got to deal with aliens! Those idiots at the Alliance think the 'Batarians' the Quarians mentioned are going to look for us, look for our blood. They want my money, to make more ships and guns! I can afford it, of course, but it's getting harder and harder to explain to the Australian Government why I'm losing millions in addition to the millions I've donated to the Alliance.
Damn it, if only Allison had simply obeyed. I could have avoided all of this!
I hope Miranda will be better. The AI's are already saying she will be. Twice as perfect as Alison, at least.
Journal Entry End)
November 6th 2201:
(Journal Entry November 6th 2201:
WAR! That is the absolute LAST THING I NEED!
Alison figured it out yesterday. She knows about Miranda, she saw the data and the cellular structures we've been making. I know she's going to do something about it. Damn it, if only those god damned 'Turians' had come Down Under. I could have written her off as a casualty of war.
I'll have to be creative.
Those Terra Firma people may prove to be of use.
Journal Entry End.)
November 8th 2201: Dynasty 01 attempts escape. She purges more than half of the data and destroys the work on Dynasty 02, Project Miranda. She makes an attempt to slay her father, but is executed by the man before she is able.
(Journal Entry November 8th 2201:
Stuff it, McGraw.
At least my kid tried to do something about me, yours has just been fucking with you.
I'm still better.
Miranda will be better.)
July 30th 2202: Dynasty 02, Miranda Lawson is born. Birthweight: Seven pounds, Seven ounces. Birth Time: 6:12 AM on the dot.
(Journal Entry July 30th 2202:
I've learned from my last attempt. I will be far more strict this time around. She will not have a chance to rebel against me.
McGraw's kid saved the Human Race. Mine damn-well better save the Galaxy.)
Miranda could hardly breathe. All of this information was frying her brain, her genetically superior, perfect brain. She wasn't the first, that was what McGraw said. How had he known? How had his father known? Why did he tell her? Why had her father killed her predecessor? Why in God's name did she even have a predecessor? Her thoughts were interrupted by the data pad's display going blank for several moments, before a new symbol appeared on the screen. It looked like a diamond, with two shields on either side of it. A message appeared underneath it.
I won't give you everything, or make it too easy for you, I've got to know you're dedicated, see. Your father has dozens of files on this symbol. You still want to stick with him? Then stop everything you're doing and prepare to live your life as a drone, 'cause that's what you'll be. You really want to leave? Start looking. This symbol is your key to salvation. Use what you've learned this past month, your father really was an idiot for doing this. She only had a month's worth of civilian martial arts and private firing-range marksmanship training. You've been learning martial arts for months, you're biotic, and for the last thirty some-odd days, you've been having Alliance Army martial arts, and the best marksmanship training in Human territory, almost literally beaten into you. You'll do better.
You'll save both of you.
Yes.
Both.
- The Intuitive Man.
…
(I'm sorry, I had to.)
Miranda's brain was now, officially, overtaxed. Chris's information, this 'Intuitive Man' character, it all simply proved too much for her. With the data pad clutched tightly to her chest, she fell into a deep sleep.
Miranda's last few days on Sparta, with the SIGMA II's, were largely uneventful. Ducard had chosen to work them all thrice as hard, to send the woman out 'with a bang'. By this time she was more or less used to it, but her discoveries still weighed heavily on her mind. Few noticed anything, aside from her general silence, but fewer still made attempts to discern what was wrong. John had tried, but Miranda had shrugged it off as bad dreams. She hated lying to him, but she didn't want him to know about her - and, apparently, her older sister's past, not yet anyways.
So now, here she was. There was an Alliance shuttle in behind her. The shuttle was an enormous, powerful piece of machinery. It was designed to function as a tilt-wing helicopter, when in terrestrial flight mode, and as a thruster-powered aircraft when in thruster mode. It could, under its own power, reach escape velocity at half of its engines' full power. It was also heavily armed, four rocket pods - two guided and two unguided - on each side of the shuttle, and one heavy machine gun capable of spewing out thousands of rounds per minute.
Miranda was not paying attention to the shuttle, though. She didn't hear its bay-like door open, signifying that the shuttle's pilot was ready for her to get on. She was focused on the eighty-kid long line of SIGMA II's, each making their way to her to give her a firm handshake, a few words of advice, and a farewell. She felt like she had truly bonded with these men, during her month long stay here. Her many drills, training sessions, and education days with them had instilled within her a familial sense the likes of which she had never felt before. She felt happy with them, and she felt deep sorrow leaving now.
John was at the end of the line, his words were quick, as if saying them quickly would help relieve the pain of essentially losing a family member. "It was fun talking to you, Miranda." He said, with a nod, before he extended a hand. Miranda noticed there was an object in it, and instantly took his hand in hers and shook. John's voice was lowered, "you need anything. Call. I'll bring the cavalry." He said.
John hadn't expected Miranda's response, she took him into a tight embrace. The child-soldier couldn't honestly recall the last time he'd been embraced in such a way, and thus had no earthly idea what to do in response, other than to prepare a few choice remarks for Justin and George, who were no doubt doing the same for him.
She let go of him, and with a sad look in her eye said, "I'll miss you." A beat, "all of you."
John grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "We'll always be here if you need us." He said, as Miranda was led into the shuttle.
Upon entering it, the bay-like door was shut, and the cabin environmentally sealed, so they could travel through the void safely. Miranda looked out of the window as she heard the heavily muffled 'whomp-whomp-whomp' of the helicopter blades pick up speed. What she saw, as the shuttle lifted off the ground, warmed her heart and brought a tear to her eye.
Assembled in formation, each and every one of the SIGMA II's in Delta Company, all had their hands next to their heads, in a crisp, uniform salute, that wasn't broken until the shuttle itself had disappeared from view entirely. When the helicopter blades retracted into the rotary-engines, and the thrusters fired brightly, the shuttle disappeared from view. As Miranda rocketed towards what would either turn out to be her father's personal ship, or an Alliance vessel on its way to Earth, she couldn't help but begin to weep out of sorrow and of joy. She was extremely sad that she was leaving what essentially equated to her only true family in this galaxy, but happy that they had respect enough for her to honorably send her off.
She knew it would prove a long trip home.