Chapter 14
"People speak sometimes about the 'bestial' cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel."
—Fyodor Dostoyevsky
April 4th, 2216
One would think that, being a Commander in one of the most downright feared military units in the galaxy's long, colorful, and assuredly bloody history, one would expect to not be challenged so brazenly by people that one could break apart without any real effort. Of course, Joseph Ducard S1-99, the Commander in question, had never been put in such a position - his contact with the 'real world', that being the civilian one, had been limited at best ever since he'd taken the assignment with the II's. But with John S2-15's actions and Ducard's subsequent reactions, many things had changed in a veritable domino effect.
First, in order to tie up the loose end that had been deploying a battalion of Orbital Dropping Death Dealers, and to cover up the fact that they had all just threatened - and nearly killed - a fourteen year old boy, he'd had to make up a lie that John had been a prototype infiltration mech that had gone rogue. It wasn't entirely a lie, unfortunately, as the Alliance did have such mechs, aptly called the 'Skynet Mechs', a few were even working their way through the Asari Government as he stared at the man in front of him, but none of the machines were children, there was too much hassle in trying something like that. Then, of course, he had to find the witnesses who had seen John's stunt and either silence them or convince them not to speak, which had been easier than he would have considered, given the fact that most people would be frightened to death of a heavily scarred seven foot tall man to begin with, but the same man in powered armor? He was surprised none of them had defecated themselves. Finally, there was the problem with the UN.
John's stunt, and Ducard's subsequent stunt, had ratcheted up the tensions between the Alliance and the United Nations. Some were threatening war, worse, rumors were that Vito Santiago and his Blue Suns would back the Earth, due to many of their operatives being killed as a result of 'unlawful warfare' on the part of the Alliance. The Alliance, subsequently, was having to divert entire battle groups and reconnaissance flotillas from the war with the Hegemony and the Alliance/Council and Alliance/Terminus borders, respectively, in order to quell these threats.
But what confounded the SIGMA more than anything, was the man standing in front of him. Short by his standards, the six foot tall man was staring him down as if the two were equal in size and in stature, the man wasn't thickly built at all, his average frame belying his broad shoulders. His business attire, consisting of a dark gray tuxedo and an eerie, blood red tie would have conveyed some sense of cold superiority, had the man chosen to cover his eyes, two dark green orbs which told anyone who looked in to them that they were right to fear him, that he controlled everything he saw and that he had the power to do whatever he wanted without consequence. He had exercised this suggested power by openly threatening Ducard, whose heart was hammering and his mind was seething at the realization that this man probably could do whatever he wanted, because if it was who he thought it was, then he did have the requisite connections, whereas Ducard only knew the Director for Augmented Affairs, and even then his relationship was cursory at best, not at all like the DfAA and John Doe, who had trained and served together.
"My point was made clear." Said the man, in response to Ducard's continued silence and stone-faced glare. "You want desperately to avoid a civil war between Earth and the Human Systems Alliance. I can provide that. You want to make certain that mankind isn't split down the middle, with Sparta caught in the middle, I can make that happen."
Ignoring the enormity of the man's political power implied by that statement, Ducard held his ground, after all: There was no damned way he'd be successfully threatened by a pale-skinned six foot man whose neck was looking enticingly fragile. "But what you want in return is too steep a price, Mister -"
"I think we will skip the pleasantries." Said the man, his deep voice belying his mysterious request. "You and I both know I am not here in any official capacity. I am here as a favor to you SIGMAs, and as a duty to myself." He reached in to his suit jacket and pulled out a circular device, smaller than the palm of his hand, with wire-thin tendrils that simply hung loose, swaying freely with the machine's momentum. "This is the very machine you shall do the deed with. You are going to augment them in days, regardless. So what is one SIGMA trainee versus what will eventually envelop all of Sparta?" Fortunately for Ducard, he had convinced the infuriating, implacable man in front of him that John was a One in training, and seeing as the man had never gotten a good look at the Two, he'd somehow bought it, showing that while he may claim to be connected, he wasn't as well connected as he thought he was.
"I plan on punishing SIGMA One-Two Fifteen myself. Your suggestion is duly -"
"How about I make myself absolutely, abundantly clear?" Said the man, he placed the device on the table between the two men, before he looked up again at Ducard, the room seemed to darken at the man's emotionless scowl. "I have many ways of intimidating people... But you? You will not be intimidated by me, I am a mere, common, man." He said, "so instead, I will state a fact, that will register with you, SIGMA One-Ninety Nine. I read your charter." Ducard's frown turned in to an outright enraged scowl as he realized where the man was going with this. "I know what the SIGMAs' charge is, and I know what they are capable of under this charter. I know of Protocol Sixty-Six. If I wanted, I could convince the Alliance that the SIGMAs were in and of themselves a threat. Many in parliament do not know of what you are legally allowed to do... But if they did, perhaps they could appease the UN by exterminating the rogue military faction responsible for their unlawful actions upon earth. Perhaps by exterminating the entirety of the augmented elite, the very war you do not want to happen could be avoided."
"You're bluffing." Stated Ducard, "no one is that connected." But he felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck, as he realized that a silver tongued, well connected man - like the one standing in front of him - could convince Parliament to pin the entire thing on the SIGMAs, and worse, it could very easily lead to some kind of counter-operation on Sparta. Many Humans looked up to and respected the SIGMAs, the 'guardians of Humanity', but many more outright feared them.
The Mysterious One stared Ducard directly in the eye, "I am. And you don't want me to prove it to you." He said, the look in his eyes fierce enough to even make the Commander back down. "So you have two options; both avoid this potentially unavoidable civil war. But one sacrifices the memories of one SIGMA, whilst the other sacrifices the lives of them all."
Ducard repressed a livid growl, it instead coming out as a deep sigh, "you're talking about something beyond immorality, here." He didn't note the irony of that statement, given his position.
"You are one to speak." Ducard blinked, did he just -"this device will wipe away all of the relevant memories. What is immoral about something one would not even recall?" The man asked.
"It is evil and so are you." Ducard was cornered and there was no way out, and the man in front of him knew it.
"So is leaving an exaton weapon on the Citadel." Said the man, who didn't even give Ducard a grin when the SIGMA's scowl deepened at the mention of the Alliance's blackest op. He nodded respectfully, "I will know if you short-change me, SIGMA. Sparta will know. The galaxy will know." He made his way to the door but then paused, his hand resting on the doorknob; he perked his head, as if he'd remembered something, and then glanced at the Commander over his shoulder. "And I'm not a monster. I'm just ahead of the curve." He left the room, leaving Ducard to stew with his thoughts.
Ducard looked down at the simple, seemingly innocuous machine laying on the table. Seeing red, the livid super soldier rammed his fist in to the table, leaving a deep dent just an inch away from the device.
Titan Medical Station was one of the largest medical stations orbiting Earth. It was finished alongside the Beijing Space Elavator, back in 2213. It lies in geo-synchronous orbit with Earth, though it is far above orbit, so much so that it can't be seen from the ground, unlike many other Space Stations. It had over three hundred zero-gravity surgery rooms, a mech wing with four hundred AI-Piloted Surgeon Mechs, and an armed guard consisting of United Nations forces, specifically, American, Chinese, and Russian soldiers. Almost immediately after it was opened to the Alliance, it had been used, as wounded warriors from all sorts of wars, from border disputes to pirate raids and Rebel battles, Titan Medical Station was the very best place to go if you were wounded.
It also, unbeknownst to the general public, came complete with a full suite of medical and nano-augmentation facilities. The most recent SIGMA I graduates had come to Titan to get augmented, and the SIGMA II's were due to get both rounds of augmentations here, the first coming within the next few days.
John-S2-15 knew little about the SIGMA I augmentation procedure, primarily because Ducard had always maintained that it wasn't something the II's ever needed to know, but conversely he knew nearly everything about the SIGMA II Augmentation Process. The first augmentations came when the SIGMA II's turned fourteen, they were biological and medical augmentations, designed to increase their immune systems, muscle density and strength, and bone strength and durability. It was also meant to increase their brain's ability to develop, far beyond the ability of a normal Human being, SIGMA II's after their first augmentations were - supposed to be, according to Christopher McGraw, who had made the outlines for the augmentation procedures - to have near perfect memories, an almost limitless capacity to learn and retain knowledge, and should be able to solve the most complex of problems and situations in heartbeats. Furthermore, their growth hormones would be directly stimulated, both to give then an increased height and bone structure, but also to age their bodies from teenaged developing to adult prime. John knew that the First Augs did a lot more, but they paled in comparison to the Eighteen Year Augmentations.
The SIGMA II Primary Augmentation Procedure essentially turned the SIGMA II's from Humans, into cyborgs. The augmentation procedure, among other things, inserted millions self-replicating nanomachine colonies were also into the Operative, which would serve numerous functions, as dictated by a Solid-State Drive that was located deep within the base of their spine; the nanomachine colonies could do anything from medical tasks, like accelerated healing and blood-loss restriction, to helping carry more oxygen through the blood, so the SIGMA would have less of a need to breathe as hard as a normal soldier. Machines were also grafted into their brains, which were essentially 'lite' versions of the very same machines in Christopher McGraw's brain, that gave him a near limitless capacity for knowledge. Carbon-nanotubes were bonded to their bones, these nanotubes were grafted all across their skeletons, essentially turning their entire skeletal structure into an indestructible web.
The SIGMA I's equivalent to the II's nanotubes was a cocktail of extremely durable metals grafted onto their skeletons, accomplishing the same thing, but at a price. Bone marrow is the penultimate producer of blood cells in the body, with lymph nodes and other minor organs producing small amounts and extras on their own. Because of this bones are very porous, being riddled with capillaries allowing new white and red cells out. The first generations of SIGMA I's had been augmented before the scientists had thought of this, and thus they had to go through secondary augmentations which added in nanomachines to help supplement their suddenly removed ability to produce blood cells. Carbon Nanotubes had come around a decade before the Second Contact War, but by the time the SCW Hit, over three fourths of the SIGMA I's had the 'wrong augmentations', the legendary John Doe S1-1 was among them.
Many SIGMA I's with the wrong-augmentations eventually had to retire, due to the simple fact that their bodies couldn't fight themselves anymore, much less continue fighting Humanity's enemies. To date, there were only a dozen 'Original' SIGMA I's left in active service, with the wrong-augmentations, all twelve are veterans of all of the Alliance's wars, and half of them did time in SIGMA Alpha Team. The only remaining Original SIGMA that is still in SIGMA Alpha team was the original, the very first, John Doe S1. He was a legend amongst the SIGMA Program, especially amongst the II's.
John Doe S1-1 was the very first SIGMA Operative to have been made in Alliance History. It was he, and a company of sixty other SIGMA Recruits, that all went through the extremely experimental procedure. Only a quarter of the 'First SIGMAs' made it, but John Doe was the very first one they augmented, so they changed his name completely, so if he died, he was simply a John Doe. Very few knew exactly how the man was still alive, given that he has been serving since 2157, when the first SIGMA Operatives were augmented, and rumors had it that the man was in his thirties when he was augmented, so that put him in his nineties, now. Some rumored that it was his SIGMA Augmentations that kept him alive, some said that when he hit his seventies he donned an experimental set of Titan Armor that would keep his body functional and combat ready, until it simply couldn't handle the stress, some simply said that he kept himself alive out of spite, and out of the raw desire to continue to protect and serve the Human Race with his every breath. The rumors, as varied as they are numerous, all revolved around one fact: The Man was a true living legend.
John-S2-15 had always harbored a desire to meet the man, the myth, the legend, and he didn't expect, when he'd awoken on Sparta the previous morning, that he would get just that opportunity. When he'd been taken from Earth and brought to Titan Station, Ducard had told him that he wasn't to be going back to Earth, and that his 'vacation' would be spent on the station, as they worked out a suitable punishment for him. John's every movement was being watched by a specialized SIGMA AI that was simultaneously helping work the station. John knew that Ducard and the Director for Augmented Affairs were both having a heated discussion about his fate, but that had been stuffed into the back of his mind when he came to view the inside of an occupied surgery room.
Titan Station wasn't at all designed for civilian use, so the viewing windows into the surgery rooms were for surgeons, doctors, and nurses in training to take notes. It was also useful for the bored fourteen year old Child-Soldier to peek inside and see what was going on. Inside, however, John saw something no SIGMA II could claim he'd seen, he saw John Doe. The John Doe! But John wasn't performing some feat of heroic Human ingenuity within, rather, he was speaking to a Doctor, as he put on his Titan Armor's under-suit. The 'Smart Skin' suits were a specific feature of Titan Armor, the N7 and OD3 Powered Infantry Assault Armor had skin suits that could essentially 'grow' into their wounds, but Titan Smart Skin suits did all that and much more. They 'grew' into wounds, checked the wearer's bio-status, linked up with the Titan Armor itself, and had dozens of other features that John didn't yet know about. He did know that Smart Skin suits were a lot more thicker, and had a layer of modern dragon-skin armor underneath them, separating the outer skin from the inner skin, the body armor gave the SS Suit the appearance of being 'rigid', when in reality, its title, 'Second Skin', was all but the truth.
John knew why Doe was only donning the SS Suit, Titan Armor - even the Mark Ones the I's used - weighed several tons, the Mk. Ones brought two hundred plus pound operatives to near a thousand pounds of weight. They required special machinery, not at all unlike what the OD3's had to step into to assemble their Heavy PIAA Suits, to assemble around the SIGMA Operative, which was why they were very rarely seen outside the armor. It looked like Doe had said something to the white-haired doctor in the white lab coat, but John couldn't hear anything. John looked around the window and managed to spy a holographic panel, he hit it and got audio from within.
"- time?" Came Doe's voice.
The doctor sighed, sorrow was within it. "Your body's natural functions are beginning to overpower your augmentations. It's fighting itself to utter exhaustion. Your blood/lymph producers on your bones are your primary culprits, they're trying to make up for lost time, and the BL/Augs we made to counteract the Steel Grafts are taking the increased bone production as a sign that they aren't needed, so they're working less." He explained. "That means that you're not getting enough new, 'fresh' blood through your system. The BL/Augs haven't simply stopped working, but their decreased production is noticeable enough that it has affected your health. The production underneath the steel grafts isn't anything to worry about, the emergency augmentations we made to counteract blood/lymph producers on the bones are still working, the fact that they're being out-worked notwithstanding."
"Can we fix it?"
"In a word? No."
"So how much time do I have?" Doe asked again, looking at the Doctor.
"I would say… A decade at most, before your body's natural functions simply win out, and you make Stephen Hawking look like he'd been an active individual." The Doctor supplied.
"And at the worst?"
"Six months, twelve days."
"That's exact."
"Your former team mates have suffered from similar side effects. The 'original twelve'? They're beginning to wash out, I've seen six of them the last decade. The Six Months, Twelve Days, was the shortest amount of time from when he'd began showing symptoms similar to yours, and when he had to retire completely, or risk body-crippling injuries." The Doctor explained.
Doe sighed deeply, he looked up to the window. John made a cautionary step back, his eyes widening as Doe's met his. Doe looked youthful, his pale white skin wasn't sagging, despite his advanced age. He had a shaved head and dark, red eyes, but his eyes were what told John the story of Doe's life; they were filled with sorrow, pain, suffering and loss, but bubbling beneath all of that was a sense of determination, of conviction, they seemed to inspire John simply by looking at them. Doe sighed deeply again and looked at the doctor, John realized that the window must be one-way.
"Are you going to recommend -"
"I know you, John. You wouldn't stop fighting even if your body did. I won't recommend you leave service… But I won't lie." The Doctor interrupted the legend, "just… Don't let your sense of duty override basic Human instinct… You are dying -" John felt his heart skip a beat, John Doe on his death bed? Was such a thing even possible? "- don't you think, after over sixty years of straight service, you deserve to retire?"
"Battle is what I know, doctor." Said Doe, "the Human race, despite what the Quarians will have us believe, is alone in the galaxy, in the universe. The second we met extraterrestrial life forms, they started killing us. I was there for First contact, the Quarians fired first, we almost went to war with them!" He said, "Earth was our first test. Everything on it tried to kill us, but we made tools, clothes, armor, armies, cities, to protect ourselves. Then Eden came, its tame biosphere gave us our first break in millennia, decades went by in a peace that we didn't know what to do with. But then we met the Quarians, and our century of peace ended. The Turians, the Rebels, the Mercenaries, now the Batarians." He continued, "everything is against Humanity, here. The Alliance doesn't want our people to know, but it's the truth, Humanity is alone, and therefore, we need everything we can get. Every able-bodied man must be willing to take up arms and fight for his species… And I intend to fight for as long as I possibly can, and then a year longer." He finished, raw pride and determination was leaking from his tone; he looked down to the ground as he spoke, his eyes wide and his face wearing a pained, almost sorrowful scowl.
The doctor sighed, "alright then. If you truly wish…"
"I do."
"Then I will not recommend you stop fighting. But do think about what I've said, you deserve a break… You've given your species everything."
"Not everything." Doe stated firmly, "not yet." With his words, and a small grunt, he got to his feet.
John only had a second before it registered what was happening, but by that point Doe had already reached the door, and was coming out of the room. John reacted on instinct and sprung to attention, waiting to be spoken to or ignored, but Doe's words were what nearly broke seven full years of constant military training, simulations, and indoctrination.
"Come with me." Said Doe, as he made his way to the station's nearest observation room.
"Yes sir" John said quickly, as he fell in line behind Doe. Thoughts were flying through his mind faster than a ship would fly through the warp, what was Doe going to do to him? What did he want? Did he want anything? How did he even know to expect John?
It entered John's mind to ask these questions, but Doe had every look about him that he wanted their trek to be as long and as silent as possible. Many a time, as they walked through the station's long, rectangular corridors, Doe looked over his shoulder to look John over, but never did he make any decisive grunt or remark, he simply gave John a look, and then continued walking forward. John could feel a cold sweat beginning to form on his buzz-cut forehead and in his suddenly clammy hands, but he fought back the feeling of terror as they entered the main Observation room.
Doe led John to the window, out of which, they got a perfect view of the Earth. They were currently orbiting above North America, and John could see, near the continent's North Eastern edge, a building he'd only ever heard of. It was the New York Space Scraper, a building so enormous, so tall, and so magnificent, that it could be seen clearly from Space. John knew a little about it, that it had its own American National Guard presence, that its oxygen and power were both supplied from ground-based facilities, and that it was the single largest man-made building on the Earth, bested only by the single largest man-made object on the Earth, the Beijing Space Elevator.
The view of Earth was majestic, in John's opinion. The ever since the Great Orbital Cleanup of 2176, the Earth's lower and outer orbit had been wiped clean of over ninety four percent of the space debris that had clouded up the orbit ever since the late twentieth century. The GOC allowed space-farers to see a nearly unpolluted and unblocked view of the Earth, as it was meant to be seen; the lush greens and healthy blues of the grass and oceans, the pure whites and dull grays of their clouds, and the shining gold of the cities at night, it all painted a picture that nearly everyone interpreted differently. Some saw the Earth's health and thought of the Human capacity for healing, in direct spite Humanity's thirst for war. Some saw Earth's lights and thought of Man's aptitude for technology and rapid advancement.
John, however, saw it all simply: Earth wasn't a symbol of anything, save for Humanity itself. Earth was a wild planet, full of plants and animals that would kill if they were given the chance, and yet despite the odds being stacked against him, Man rose up to power and conquered his Earth. Man was smart, so he gained sentience. Man was weak, so he made tools to do what his body could not. Man was creative, and he used his tools and his sentience to hunt and farm. Man was powerful, so he fought himself to prove it. But above all, Man was a survivor, everything from meteors to volcanoes, from bombs to nuclear and chemical weapons, and everything in between, was used and thrown at Mankind, but they lived, either through stubbornness or through sheer force of will, was up for debate. Earth was a symbol not of Human power, strength, or healing capacity, but it was a symbol of Humanity in and of itself.
"It's beautiful." Said John Doe, pulling John from his reverie. "Isn't it?"
"Yes sir."
"I was born on Titan, the moon, believe it or not." The original warrior mentioned. "I never saw Earth until my three-day, pre-aug leave. I didn't see it again until the Second Contact War. I've only seen it once since, and that was to attend the Second Contact War memorial service, in New York." The man said, his tone calm and his voice somberly reflecting his past, his voice hoarse, no doubt through his lifetime of servitude and battle. "but despite it all, I consider... I believe Earth to be my home." A pause, "what do you believe, John?"
"I believe Earth is a symbol… But also a sacrificial lamb, for which rebel forces and corrupt politicians will use to validate horrific actions." John answered, "but I know why we fight… 'Never Again, Earth.'…" He quoted an Alliance Marine who had survived the New York bombing, the Marine in question was reported to still be in service. His words had essentially become the unofficial motto for the SIGMA Program.
"Numquam Iterum, Terrae." Said Doe, in Latin. "Why do you think that is?"
"Because, where Soldiers see Earth as a fortress, SIGMAs see Earth as the homeworld. The only thing more important than the Earth is the Human race itself." John supplied, "to allow the Earth to be invaded, even by a single alien being, is a failure on our part that requires exact vengeance." A pause, "a thousand corpses for every drop of Human blood spilled on the homeworld." Another quote, but this one by a SIGMA, who had died due to Element Zero poisoning after the recapture of Tokyo.
Doe looked at John for a moment, John only noticed now how Doe's eyes were a deep red color, with flecks of synthetic looking blue. "Why do we fight?"
"For Earth, her colonies, her children, and her interests." John said it automatically, it was drilled into his mind since day one, it was a phrase he could never forget, that and 'Grenade, Get Down!', in over a dozen languages, including Kehlish and even Palsdan, the Turian language.
"Why do you fight?" Doe asked specifically.
"For Earth -"
"You specifically."
John paused, "I…" His true reasons for why he fought were among the only things of his old life that he held on to. That and his last memory of his mother, of the last hug they shared, of the scent of space, and the warm feeling in his chest. "I fight so others don't feel the pain I felt before joining the program." He uttered slowly, "my mother was killed by alien mercenaries. I felt an indescribable pain when I learned this, and originally I powered through the program to make they who killed my mother pay."
"But?" Doe correctly predicted, his eyes not leaving John's, who had already broken eye contact to gaze back at the Earth.
"But then Mindoir happened. Not a day goes by that I don't think of the little Quarian girl trying to stuff her mother's gore back into her headless neck, smearing blood onto her bubble." John explained, "I realized that I wasn't the only one who felt pain at the hands of Humanity's enemies. I realized as I fought there, that I didn't want anyone to feel the pain I felt, that she felt. So now I fight so no one else will feel the crippling, all-consuming pain of loss."
"I saw the satellite footage of the Lawson Mission." John suppressed a sigh, "why did you fight there?"
"Because Miranda Lawson S2-106 is a SIGMA II Operative, Sir. She is as much a sister to my and the Twos, as I am a brother to them, and they to me. I'd give my life for her as fast as I would for any of the Twos." John said, "not only that, but she was soon to feel the very same loss I felt, just in a different form. She had a sister on the way, that her father was going to enslave much in the same way he had done, her. So aside from the fact that I wouldn't hesitate to help a fellow SIGMA, I had to make sure she didn't feel that pain. I had to." He stated firmly, though still unaware of the point of this conversation.
"You killed Humans to make sure she didn't feel that pain. Men with families. Families who will feel that pain, because of you, Two Fifteen." Doe pointed out.
"And I regret every moment of their families' suffering." John stated sincerely, "I regret the suffering of every family I ruin, with each bullet I fire. But the fact is, the Human families I ruin can get over it, millennia of warfare has dulled us to the pain and agony of loss through battle. But not when faced with alien threats, it still hasn't sunk in that we truly aren't alone, and the galaxy isn't as peacefully empty as we thought. So when aliens kill Humans, Humans grieve far longer than they would if Humans killed Humans. Therefore, I must fight Humanity's enemies, to make sure Humanity's families do not feel that unending, all-consuming pain."
"Your logic has holes, Two Fifteen."
"But it makes sense."
"Sure it does." Doe nodded, his haggard face not betraying the thoughts behind his eyes. "You've seen more true, live-fire combat than every other SIGMA II in existence." He stated, John nodded silently as a response, "you've also done what no other SIGMA II has considered, you ran away, but you did so to help your own. You've shown leadership qualities not entirely unheard of amongst your generation, but of an entirely different caliber. When your company was dropped on Sparta's north pole, you rallied them to survive for more than two weeks." John remembered that with a sense of somber fondness.
When the SIGMA Kids had turned ten, and after six months of Army Training, the SIGMA Instructors had told them it was time for their first round of SERE Training, and for the first two months, they had focused primarily on 'Survival', by dropping the companies in several, varied environments. Delta Company's hardest trial had been the Arctic Trial, but John had rallied them all to work against the cold, to huddle together to conserve heat, as their branches dried to provide fire. He had helped them learn how to break through several inch thick ice to get to the fish below it, and for over two weeks they had survived, better than they had in the Forests, and in the Deserts. John said it was because of their unity, Delta Company said it was because of John.
"You've shown combat prowess beyond anything your fellow Biotics could hope for, by being the driving force behind Vi-Contactus." Doe continued, as he reached into a pocket on his Smart Skin suit. "When you are faced with a challenge, you overcome it. When you are given a task, you accomplish it. Mindoir showed us this in spades." Doe explained, as his fist clenched over something in the pocket, before he removed his hand. "And when you make a mistake, you own it without hesitation. The Lawson Mission exemplified this." A pause, "I've spoken with Ducard and with Director Trent. A punishment is still coming." John repressed a sigh, Doe still had something to say, "but you've shown us that you possess the necessary qualities to be better than the best." Doe extended his hand to John, and opened it; John's breath caught fast in his throat. "John… Welcome to SIGMA Two Alpha Squad."
In Doe's hand was a pin. The SIGMA II Program's symbol was an Eagle, clutched in its left talon was a Rifle, an ancient blunderbuss, and in its right was a bundle of grenades. Behind the Eagle was the Greek Letter Sigma, Σ. This pin had the SIGMA II Program's symbol, but the Greek Letter was layered underneath another letter, Alpha, Α. The same symbol for SIGMA I Alpha Squad, the very best squad of the very best SIGMA I's, of which, the man, the myth, the legend, John Doe S1-1 was, and is, a part of. John had heard rumors of SIGMA II Alpha Squad being considered in the wake of SIGMA II Deployments in the Batarian War, but he'd never thought he would be a part of it, let alone be leading it, as shown by the Sergeant's Bars underneath the SIGMA II Symbol.
"I…" John stammered, wide eyed and slack-jawed, as he took the pin and held it reverently in his left hand.
"Remember what responsibilities come with being a part of Alpha Squad. Failure is not an option, even in the face of extreme adversity." The Original SIGMA reinforced, "you are among the best your class can provide. You will, as Squad Leader, be leading two other men into situations and missions that would require entire regiments of marines to do, otherwise." A pause, "I'll leave the choice of who else gets put into the squad, to you. Ducard and Trent left me that decision." Doe said. "But remember your numbers."
John nodded absentmindedly, SIGMA Squads had decreased from five-man numbers to three, in the wake of the Second Contact War. When the Turians had deployed their versions of the SIGMAs, the 'Ghosts', their vastly superior numbers had forced the Director for Defense's hand, he'd spread the SIGMAs who had survived Earth, out as far as possible. It only took them a day to learn that too many SIGMAs to a battle zone was a misuse of precious, augmented resources, but too few risked the Operatives' lives. Soon, it was learned that three was the magic number, three SIGMAs to a squad were effectively able to hold off the Ghosts, long enough for Human forces to regroup, and for Hand of God satellites to position for a mass-bombing, Satellite weaponry and enormous explosives were the primary reason there was such a disproportionate ratio of Ghost to SIGMA casualties. Three men squads were how SIGMAs functioned, and three men squads were how the SIGMAs dominated.
"I…" John shook his head, and clenched the pin tightly; composing himself, John spoke clearly, "thank you, sir!" He said, "for such an honor." He fired off a salute.
The Legend, S1-1, fired off a salute as well. "Remember what you fight for, John." He said, his augmented ears picking up the footsteps of another Human being, the sound of the footsteps suggested a heavy weight, he assumed it was Ducard. "And remember, you'll be leading those you choose into the toughest battles Humanity can possibly find. You won't simply be a three-man army, you'll be a three-man military, Two Fifteen." A quick pause, Doe needed to wrap this up, "you'll be upholding every single value the Alliance has taught you." A nod, "don't disappoint."
John nodded, as did Doe, before the latter turned. Ducard came to a stop in front of Doe, and fired off a salute. "S-One."
"Ninety Nine." Doe returned the salute, "go easy on the kid." A shadow of a grin graced the legend's face, but Ducard's only darkened with a single, solitary nod. Ducard focused his serious glare upon the SIGMA Teen. "Come with me."
John followed without hesitation.
"What?" John couldn't stop himself from shouting his words, nor could he help the utterly befuddled tone in which they had been shouted. "I mean…" He caught himself, "Commander Doe just told me I'm in the Alpha Squad… And now you're making me Battalion Chief for Delta Company?" John truly failed to see where the punishment was in this, and that was what was terrifying him.
Ducard was quiet, as he sat opposite John on the ovular table, in Titan Station's one main meeting room. "John, we won't just be throwing you to the dogs when you get your preliminary augmentations. Like it or not, you're still children, and therefore, you must be tested before you can go through the trials and tribulations of warfare." Ducard explained, "this test is something you will receive no information about. It will be as brutal as war itself, and if you do not pass, your company will not participate in the Batarian War." A beat passed, "Alpha Squad will, but Delta Company will not."
Realization dawned on John as he figured out what Ducard was implying. He was responsible for the well being of his company, if they passed this 'test', it would be because he led them to victory, but if they failed, it would be because he failed them, personally. It was a punishment, because, if they failed - if John failed - the only ones that would be losing would be the members of Delta Company, unless he chose someone from Delta Company to be a part of Alpha Squad, which was as likely as it was unlikely.
"Does this come with rank?" John asked stupidly, he knew that they technically weren't enlisted in the Alliance Armed Forces, but this had been a question plaguing his mind ever since the Batarian War had begun, and it had been rumored that the II's were going to participate it.
Ducard shook his head, "not until you hit eighteen." He said, "you won't be working with our enlisted forces for this reason, and others." John nodded at this, though he couldn't help but wonder what his rank would eventually fall to, he didn't even know where the SIGMA's ranking structure lay. Did it lie in the Navy, in which case the highest NCO position he could get would be Master Chief Petty Officer? Did it lie in the Marines, in which it would be Sergeant Major? Or perhaps it lied in the Army, in which it would also be Sergeant Major?
John pushed the thoughts out of his head, Ducard had mentioned one other thing.
"Finally, your punishment." He stated, his face set firmly. John could already feel his tired, sore back begin to ache. Of course they wouldn't let him get off with implied punishments, that would be too easy. He thought he noticed Ducard exhale, as if he were steeling himself for something. "We're taking them away."
John blinked, "what?" He heard the sounds of foot steps, metal on metal, armor plated boots.
"You nearly caused a war between the Earth and the Systems Alliance. You have no idea the amount of trouble you've caused, literally no idea." Said Ducard, slowly, the speed at which he was speaking seemed to speak of a considerable effort to merely force the words through his throat. "Your brash actions in rushing to the defense of one girl, not even a SIGMA at that, put in danger the lives of a battallion of OD3's, myself and two of my squadmates, not to mention the millions that very well could have died in the war you may have caused." John heard the door open, his head whipped around and he saw two SIGMAs, fully decked out in their armor and combat gear, enter the room, they were headed straight for him. "I had to call in favors with people the likes of which you don't want to get involved with, boy. So I'm going to do to you something that will stay with you for the rest of your mortal life. I'm going to take from you that which you obviously cherish above all else." John was in combat mode now, but the two SIGMAs had the upper hand and had him restrained in the instant it took for him to reach down for his gun. "John, I'm telling you all of this because you won't remember it. We're taking them away. All of your memories of Miranda Lawson, anything even related to her, you're losing it." John wanted to scream in protest, but one SIGMA had his armored hand over his mouth, forcing John to settle for a cold, furious glare at his teacher.
There is no way they can do this. Thought John, as his eyes gleamed dangerously, everyone in the room had seen this look before, it was the look of a man who wanted nothing more than to kill his way out of whatever situation he was in.
Ducard was unfazed. "You need to realize that your actions have consequences boy. You risked a war that would have broken all of Humanity, for one girl. She is not a SIGMA, she is not worth what you risked." He stated, "but you don't care, and for that reason, we're taking them all from you." John tried to break free, but his frail Human strength was nothing compared to the augmented strength of the SIGMAs holding him, one removed his hand, John took his chance. He knew that to fight would be useless, he knew that they would kill him if he tried. Of course, he also knew that if they weren't lying, if they weren't bluffing, they would take from him a promise he'd made, not to Miranda, but to a fellow SIGMA.
Damn what they think... And damn them! John did the first thing he thought of. Every model of Titan armor had a similar weakness, that being the lack of armor around the fingers, so when the hand came back, he bit it as hard as he could.
His bite couldn't possibly have broken the SIGMA's bones, or even break the SIGMA's skin suit and subsequently draw blood, but the sudden, sharp pain on the man's fingers caused him to rip his hand out of John's mouth. John took the opportunity to rip his hand out of the SIGMA's grip and, with its mass increased, he slammed it into the golden face-plate of the other SIGMA, but before he could do anything else, Ducard's hand was gripped tightly around his throat, with barely enough room to breathe.
"Restrain him." Ducard said blankly, his stony face and steeled gaze directed at the red-faced teenager in his iron grip.
John, as his hands and feet were bound, squeezed as many words out of his throat as he could. "One day." He wheezed, "you'll regret this." His threat was laced with as much hatred as seven years of involuntary military training could muster, lesser men would have backed down, perhaps even urinating themselves in the process, even Ducard was slightly surprised at the amount of raw malice the boy was showing. "When that day comes... I'll kill you, and everyone in my way."
Ducard showed no reaction as he tightened his grip, "that is no way to speak to your superior officer... John." He said, as he let the SIGMA Teen drop to the ground, thoroughly bound and fastened. Ducard hauled the II to his feet, and withdrew the device that man gave him. Without a word, without a gloat, without even a solitary moment of peace, he jammed the device in John's ear as he'd been instructed, and watched silently as the machine came to life, slithered in to John's cranium, and began its job.
When the fourteen year old conscript began seizing, Ducard wondered if this was what a first-class ticket directly to hell looked like.
Miranda Lawson awoke with a start; her dreams had been plagued with death, failure, and possibly worst of all, her father gloating about her weaknesses. The last thing she remembered before collapsing onto the bed McGraw had provided her, was entering his ship and making sure her sister was safe. Now awake, she felt so tired, and so drowsy, that she honestly didn't know what day it was, let alone what time it was. She knew that both were irrelevant, due to the slightly accelerated feeling beneath her, where the ship's gravity well was located. The feeling of acceleration in the stomach, similar to the feeling one got when going down a long drop on a roller coaster, was common in warp-transit, which meant that they were still traveling. This confused Miranda, where in Human Territory was there a location that wasn't less than a day's warp?
She knew that, currently, the outermost Colony in Alliance Space was Mindoir, but that was barely 400 Parsecs from Earth. Alliance Space in and of its entirety stretched to just over 520 parsecs, which translated to just under 1,700 light years, thirty eight light years shy of the maximum distance per-day a Warp Engine could propel a Human vessel. Though that was the limit of her own knowledge of the Warp, the Alliance knew far more about the engine's specifics, but their knowledge on the warp itself was extremely limited, as all attempts to deploy Deep Space/Communications satellites or drones within the warp were met with utter silence from the machine, and every AATF Scientist that voluntarily sent his ship into an entry-point with no exit, was never heard from again. The Alliance couldn't study the Warp, but ever since Eden had first gained Human settlements, they had experimented heavily to make up for it. They knew that, in a single day, the Warp Drives could travel exactly 1,738 light years, which was near 533 parsecs. In a month, that distance was extended to 52,140 light years, or nearly sixteen thousand parsecs, and in a year, a modern-day Alliance Warp Drive could travel 634,370 light years, or over 194,500 parsecs, which was over six times the length of the galaxy, from end to end. Conversely, Citadel Ships had a much slower travel rate, at 12 light years per day, 360 per month, and 4,320 per year, which was approximately 4, 111, and 1,325 parsecs, respectively. Though Miranda didn't know it all by heart any more, the only reason she knew the Alliance travel rate, and their territorial limits, was because her father had posed to her a challenge, years ago: To figure out how many times a Human ship could travel the length of the Galaxy in one year, she had it at 6 times, or three round trips.
Bearing what she knew in mind, and also considering that she had to have been sleeping for hours, perhaps even days, Miranda couldn't help but wonder where on earth McGraw was taking her, if they were still in transit. Surely he had a much more advanced Warp Drive, so it should have taken much less time to travel, so why were they still moving?
A soft sigh from her right shook Miranda from her thoughts, Miranda rolled over to find her baby sister, softly and peacefully napping next to her. One part of her mind wondered why she'd slept so soundly through the night, if she were only a few hours old; she knew enough about children to know that they screamed. Why hadn't this one, then? What had happened?
The thoughts quickly cut through her drowsiness, she propped herself up on her elbows and glanced around the room, the covers slipped down her still dressed form, revealing the very uniform she'd gotten from Sparta, dirty and sweaty as it was, from her excursions the previous night. As Miranda took in the details of the room around her, she noted the odds and ends, the display case with multitudes of firearms, the android standing sigil in the corner, the bundle of clothes in the other corner.
Wait... Miranda looked back at the android, it was a stock model, it had no outward male or female features, and was certainly not like the ones used by AI's who chose to cast off their Data Disks to live as 'SynthSapiens'. The way it was positioned, simply standing sigil, made her wonder why it was there in the first place. Did McGraw need his own android? She knew he'd made his own AI, and that may explain why there were bodies laying around, but why was it in his room?
Hearing Oriana stir to her left, Miranda's attention was stolen from the android to the infant; she couldn't help but allow a smile stretch its way across her face. She focused on Oriana, the baby's dark brown hair was matted onto her head, but was soft and thick to the touch. Her small sighs as she inhaled and exhaled in deep sleep told Miranda that the infant was blissfully unaware of the reality surrounding her, of the father she'd been rescued from, of the world she'd been born into. Oriana was currently wrapped up a small, smooth towel, which she had been found in in the lab. Miranda wanted nothing more than to remove and space the towel, and remove anything that could possibly remind her of the horrid place, but she had nothing to dress her sister in, and she knew that, even if McGraw would laugh at the opportunity and accept it graciously, neither she or her infant sister would appreciate her being dressed in any of the numerous baggy T-Shirts McGraw liked to wear; Miranda knew what 'Heavy Metal' was, but she couldn't honestly understand McGraw's fascination with it, it was just mindless noise!
"I see you are awake." Said a synthetic voice.
Miranda's hand flew to the pistol on the nightstand, but the firearm was suddenly enveloped in a blue-white barrier. Miranda blinked, it couldn't be what she thought it was, could it? Hardlight technology? She had only ever read theories published by the Alliance Advancement Task Force, with modern advances in energy protection, Hardlight Tech was certainly possible, but improbable, Powered Infantry Assault Armor - like that used by N7 and OD3 special forces - would need a Fusion Pack twice as powerful to power such technology, perhaps even an antimatter battery, once they existed. Miranda had only been able to recognize the barrier for what it was, because of videos she'd seen on the internet, about tests involving HL Tech. So how did McGraw have it? And where were the field generators?
"Hardlight Technology, as I am sure you have guessed by now." Said McGraw's AI, before its avatar appeared in the air above the blue-white barrier. It was orange colored, with the soft glow of Alliance Hologram tech, it had the appearance of a middle-aged, but still youthful woman wearing a scientist's overcoat, her hair in a bun, and glasses on her face, which - despite the asininity of it - drooped every now and again, causing the AI to have to 'adjust' them. "It was something Mister McGraw made, relatively recently, as a matter of fact." It supplied helpfully.
"How -"
"It draws power from the backup fusion engines on the ship. Should the antimatter power sources need to be vented, Hardlight Tech gets its power from fusion batteries." The AI interrupted.
"Why doesn't the Alliance have these?" Miranda rapped her knuckles on the shield; unlike Energy Shields, which had a liquid feel to them, this Hardlight Barrier felt like glass, but ringed like steel.
"They do. Did you not receive a smart-watch from the SIGMA Twos?" The AI asked, with genuine curiosity.
"No."
"I see." The AI paused, "I am Gladys, by the way. Nice to meet you."
"Miranda." She paused, "why are you speaking to me with your avatar, and not through the android?" She turned around to look at the machine.
"I have spent the last twenty three hours utilizing that body to keep the infant satiated... I felt you would rather speak to something that was not covered in various amounts of vomit and urine."
Miranda blinked, "how long have we been asleep?"
"You, have not moved in twenty three hours." Said the AI, "she, has not moved in the last quarter of an hour."
"Twenty three? Where is McGraw taking us? Anywhere in Human Space is within a single day's warp." Miranda mentioned.
A two second pause, "he wished me quote him exactly." A quick cut from the AI's voice to McGraw's much less elegant tone, "well, lady, that's true for Human territory. But we're not going to anywhere in Human territory. Problem with the colonists and explorers is that they think two-dimensionally. Space is as vast as it is infinite and directionless. So, in other words, you're not in Kansas anymore."
"I live in Australia."
"You poor, poor, uncultured, SWINE!" A pause, "come see me in the cafeteria when you've changed your clothes. Be thankful, I had to give up a few Motorhead T-Shirts and two pairs of pants to the Synthesizers, to make you some 'acceptable' clothing..." A pause, "you owe me six thousand bucks, by the way. Do you know how much vintage 20th century clothing costs? I'll see you in a bit."
Miranda blinked, and only then did she notice that in the corner of the room there was a small pile of clothing. She nodded, thanked McGraw, and went to change. A quick look around the room denied her a shower, and she didn't want to ask where it was, due to the fact that she honestly didn't think McGraw would keep his eyes out of the room if she started, so she simply stripped herself of her SIGMA Fatigues and donned a non-descript uniform, black, white, and gold trimmed. She blinked and smiled despite herself, when she noticed the onesie at the bottom of the pile. Its design wasn't as bold and creatively colored as the clothes Miranda had adorned herself with, this one was a simple pale sky-blue, but it had a single picture on its chest.
"When I was fifteen minutes old, I saw eighty men dead. Grow the hell up." Was written on the chest, Miranda knew it was because of McGraw, but couldn't help but laugh at it.
She took the onesie, flipped it inside-out, and discovered another message inside it.
"My sister didn't like the surprise on the other side, so she ignored it." Another chuckle from Miranda, but this one was a bit more annoyed than the amused last one. Still, this was better than dead men, so she took it to Oriana.
It took her a few minutes to coo Oriana out of her rest, and a few more to get her dressed in the 'decent' clothing. She took Oriana in her arms and slowly rocked her back to sleep, Miranda only knew one nursery rhyme, and it would be stupid of her to even think she couldn't sing, so she lulled the baby to sleep in a few minutes, her accented voice helping greatly to soothe the infant. When Oriana was asleep, she took her with her to the cafeteria. The ship was large, but it didn't at all scream of military design, like the Frigates she had taken to and from Sparta had. Its corridors were lit by warm, light blue light, and were actually carpeted, though only lightly. There were a few paintings, pictures, and other such things lining the walls at random intervals, she stopped just before the cafeteria when she spied one of McGraw standing next to two other men.
Edward Spokane, Christopher McGraw, Jack Harper, Summa Cum Laude, Maxima Cum Laude, and second runner up (respectively) graduates of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
She recognized McGraw instantly, his hand-brushed, unkempt brown hair always seemed to be shoulder-length and borderline matted down. The young McGraw had his organic arm around the man to the right of the picture, a blue-eyed brown-haired man with a tan skin-shade. He wore his cap-and-gown, though he was missing the cap; conversely, McGraw was wearing exactly what he had been complaining about 'sacrificing' mere minutes ago, a 'Motorhead' T-Shirt and a pair of jeans. The man on the left side of the picture, that was someone Miranda couldn't recognize.
Edward Spokane… She stared at the man for a moment, trying to recall the name. It was frequently revealed that McGraw knew many famous, or at least recognizable, figures in Human society, he knew Leonard Trent, the Director for Augmented Affairs, Jason Whyte, the former Director for Affairs, Greg Faulken, the current Director for the Advancement Task Force, and rumor had it he even knew one or two Hollywood stars, Joanne Delhoun and Jack Sal came to mind, though Miranda wasn't sure. Edward Spokane, though, that wasn't a name she couldn't readily recognize.
Spokane had jet black hair, that contrasted heavily with his pale white skin. He seemed almost like an unhealthy ghost, next to the tanless McGraw and the tanned Harper. His dark green eyes contrasted heavily with his skin, which seemed to be made all the more paler by his choice of attire, business-casual gray clothes. He wore a thin-lipped smile, as opposed to McGraw's toothy grin and Harper's ear-to-ear smile. Something about the look in Spokane's eye, and the way his smile seemed forced onto his face, both unnerved Miranda. He looked like he had complete and utter confidence in himself, but something beneath the confidence seemed to be bubbling to life, in the lit picture screen; Miranda couldn't identify it, if she had to guess, she would assume it looked like malice, but who would Spokane be angry at? He was graduated at the top of his class, - on second glance, she realized he'd graduated higher than McGraw! - next to his two best friends. Perhaps there was someone beyond the camera that he'd noticed, before the picture was recorded?
"Who is that?" Miranda thought aloud.
"My buddy, my other buddy, and a dumbass. Care to be specific?" Came McGraw's deep, but lightened voice, causing Miranda to jump, nearly waking the infant in her arms.
"Jesus McGraw, you scared me!" Miranda snapped, a pause, she shook her head and then spoke, "I was referring to Edward Spokane... Knowing you I'm rather surprised I've never heard of him."
McGraw smiled in response. "You know... You would be amazed what I don't hide from people, when I'm asked." He said, looking from Miranda to the picture, "a Council Citizen once asked me if I could make a bomb that could destroy the Citadel. I told him that the weapons on my ship could do that at half their potential, and followed that up by saying that it'd only take me half a Citadel Standard Day to make such a weapon, using things I could find on the Citadel itself, with minimal effort." A pause, "I was detained, and was about to break out of my cell out of sheer boredom, before C-Sec wised up and realized which Human they were looking at, but I digress. I was once asked if I was capable of converting a stellar mass the size of Luna to a massive hunk of antimatter, I assured him that there was nothing no one who lived in this galaxy could make, that could do something similar." He chuckled.
"How -"
"Someone also asked me if I could split an atom from my hotel room. I was on Sur'Kesh at the time. I told them I could fuse an atom from my hotel room, and the fool challenged me to do it." A pause, "I did. I hand-delivered the reactor to the guy. Last I heard, STG took the hotel, the reactor, and the poor shmuck's house. Still haven't figured out how I did it.
"Hell, some guy even asked me if I'd ever had sex, and I told the motherfucker!" He said, proudly, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke.
"Really?" Miranda sounded repulsed and incredulous at the same time, though still confused as to the point of the man's rantings.
"It's on Youtube, check it out. 'McGraw's still a virgin!', six billion views, and half a million women saying they'd jump me if they got the chance..." His grin faded, "for... Some... Reason..." He chuckled, "but there are a few things I hide from people. My AI's origins and personality basis, the Crucible, Shangri-La, and Edward Spokane are those things."
All of those things piqued Miranda's interest, but she felt she had to press for information on Spokane, it was what she'd asked about in the first place. "Who is he, though?"
"A husk. Once a man, still a friend, but forever a husk." McGraw got a distant look in his eye for a fraction of a second, before he shook his head. "So I guess you're wondering where we're headed." He said, motioning for her to follow him down the corridor.
Miranda's mind was abuzz, trying to figure out what McGraw's cryptic statement meant. But she did nod and respond to him, as they walked through the ship. McGraw's cane went click-click-click as he stepped through the ship, they got to the starboard observation room after a few seconds, and he opened the window. Outside was the pale blue-gray of The Warp, but suddenly - and rather anticlimactically - transitioned to Real Space. Outside, Miranda saw an awe-inspiring sight, it was an enormous space-station, aesthetically similar to the ancient station, the ISS. It was floating in the middle of the dark, blank void, and it had countless warships - flying colors Miranda didn't recognize - protecting it.
"It's called the MSS: The McGraw Space Station; but some people just call it the Moose. Unlike Kronos, the nondescript black obelisk that it is, this thing's got class. It's clearly separated into wings -" He began pointing them out as he mentioned them "- Living Quarters, Exercise Wing, Research Labs, Construction Wing, and the gravity well."
"Where's the Gravity Well?" Miranda looked where McGraw pointed, but couldn't see the slight distortion of the light that Alliance Gravity Generators.
"It's somewhere... I'd explain how it works to you, but I doubt I'd be able to dumb it down enough for you to understand." McGraw explained.
Miranda grinned, cheekily. "If you can't explain it simply you don't understand it well enough."
McGraw went silent, his eyes wide behind his glasses, as he slowly turned his head to look at the teen standing next to him. "Oh... You and I are going to get along just fine..." He said, a grin stretching far across his face.
Several moments passed by in silence. "So… Why are we here?"
"You're going to talk to someone via Quantum Entanglement. Mister Timmy doesn't want any pesky timelags, after all."
"Quantum Entanglement? That exists?"
McGraw grinned, as the ship oriented towards the station, built its momentum, and then began the process of slowing itself down. "It does now." A chuckle.
Fifteen minutes passed as Miranda and McGraw waited to dock at the station. Miranda nearly fought McGraw when he suggested leaving Oriana in Gladys' care, he told her countless times to 'trust her', but she didn't want to leave the infant in the further care of an Artificial Intelligence created by Christopher McGraw, especially since he offered up no answer as to why she should trust the machine; so she ended up carrying the infant with her, through the station. The air here, unlike in McGraw's ship, had a distinctly sterile taste to it, that wasn't entirely foreign to the adult, but was bewildering to the youth, who had lived on Earth all her life, and only had taken a few journeys in the sterile environments that were spaceships.
Miranda couldn't deny the appealing aesthetics of the station, massive as it was. On the outside, it looked like an extremely outdated, archaic design, but on the inside, it looked like McGraw had simply built a community in space. The two had passed by what he called the 'den', but to Miranda looked more like a park, with a small grassy field, a few palm-trees, and benches in which scientists sat and socialized, and even a café - which McGraw had stopped in to grab a doughnut, citing that 'no one in the universe can beat Noriega's doughnuts.'. The corridors were long, and the ceilings were high, but despite her knowledge to the contrary, and the sterile, almost metallic tasting air, Miranda didn't feel like she was in space, with only a thin membrane of metal separating her from the outside, unforgiving void.
Minutes more passed, and finally McGraw brought her to his own room on the station.
"Just got to make a quick pit-stop." McGraw said, reaching into the inner pockets of his jacket, Miranda couldn't tell what was within. "Give me two minutes…" He entered the room, and Miranda waited a moment before she sat down against the wall.
Her last few days had been hectic, full of excitement, and bullets. She'd left everything she knew, she'd left Earth, and she'd left anyone she'd ever called a friend, or an acquaintance. It seemed bad, but she'd also seen John again, she'd saved her sister from a life of ever-present failure, and she'd finally scored a victory against her father. She felt great pride in that, but couldn't help but feel bitter as well, she'd only proven her father right, by scoring this victory, she was so perfect, her genes had given her this victory, she couldn't take credit for what her nature forced her to take. What was more, she practically hung off of John the entire time, she might have had the plan, but he executed it and made sure she made it out, even at the threat to his own life. She bit her lip, she did not like that feeling, having to depend on someone else. Her father had made her perfect, and despite this she hadn't been able to do a thing for herself, during the escape. Even if Cerberus turned out to be temporary, she knew she would change this about herself, even if she had to go to the Alliance.
"Alright! We leave!" Came Chris' voice, as he zipped past her, moving in the direction they had been heading in originally.
"What did you have to do?" Asked Miranda, hauling herself to her feet and catching up to McGraw.
"Updated my map."
"Map?"
"Yup." A split second, "my ship's always scanning, even now. Whenever it hit's the warp, it scans everything. Aside from the Quarians, who have an extensive map of the relay system, I've probably got the most detailed map of the Milky Way, this side of the AATF." He grinned.
"You don't lack for modesty, do you?" Miranda asked rhetorically.
"Here we are." Said McGraw, after a few minutes passed by in silence. "He's waiting for you, just stand in the circle."
"Okay…" Miranda said, entering the room McGraw designated.
It was dark inside, there was only a small, metal circle with bits of tech jutting out in a few ends. It practically screamed 'stand on me!', to the girl, so she did. A second passed, and then a holographic interface began extending from the ground, orange in color, and holding the iconic 'dust' appearance of Human hologram technology. In a second, the hologram surrounded her, and she was treated to a new sight entirely. In front of her, off in the distance, was an enormous, albeit dim, star. Surrounding her were computers, monitors, a table, and holograms galore. Sitting in front of her, smoking a cigar, was a man cast in detail-masking shadows.
"Miss Lawson. The Intuitive Man has told me much about you." Said the man, his voice deep and professional sounding, though not entirely unfriendly.
"You seriously call him that?" Was all Miranda could bring from her mind to her mouth.
"Security is a very serious thing, Miss Lawson." Said the man, "the only reason you know his name is because you know his face. And you know his face because he - by choice - actively broadcasts it. Taking attention away from me."
"And you are?" Miranda couldn't fault the man's logic, even if it was as full of details as a children's book, or, in other words, completely bland and blank, only getting its point across barely.
"You can call me The Illusive Man."
"Tim and Tim?" She noted quickly, adjusting her grip on the infant as she spoke.
"Another conscious choice."
"Were you the one I spoke to?"
"You spoke to an agent in my Cell, but I did personally respond to your plea for protection." A pause, "your father knows, by the way. He says that if you don't return with Oriana, and the Data, he'll pull funding from our organization."
Miranda unconsciously backed up a step, and clenched the infant closer to her chest. "What do you plan to do?"
"That rests with you, Miss Lawson." Said The Illusive Man blankly, his cybernetic eyes staring deeply into her own.
"I want to make sure she stays safe." Miranda said, her tone clear who she was referring to.
The Illusive Man took a drag from his cigar, his glowing eyes studying Miranda intently. "I can arrange for a family to take her." He said, "but… Payment for this will not be easy."
"I'll be willing to do anything to ensure her safety." Miranda said determinedly.
"Make not promises you shall not keep." The Illusive Man advised her, with a wag of his finger, "simply put, Miranda, I want you working for me. Or, more specifically, McGraw."
"Why?" Miranda asked bluntly, she hadn't not expected this, but she didn't think McGraw would request her specifically.
"McGraw knows potential when he sees it. He also knows that you've suffered an upbringing fairly similar to his. He insisted that, should you join with us, I give you to him."
"What will joining Cerberus entail?"
"A strict training and education schedule." The Illusive Man began, "not unlike your time spent with John-S2-15 and the SIGMA Twos, but less strict. You won't be a soldier, but an agent. More of a focus on education and training will be made, not just on performance." He explained, "as well, McGraw is - despite all appearances - a ranking member of this organization, and he does from time to time have assignments he must complete for us. Seeing as he's taken special interest in you, you will accompany him on the assignments he deems worthy."
Miranda waited, that couldn't be all. It sounded so simple, she'd become an agent for Cerberus, she'd be educated by Cerberus Tutors, and she'd have to follow McGraw on his assignments. She's survived a month of the grueling SIGMA Training, so she was certain she could handle whatever Cerberus threw at her, and her father's tutors had become increasingly strict the last year, to the point where a single wrong answer was an automatic failure, so she knew Cerberus' tutors couldn't be worse than that; and McGraw was McGraw, his assignments couldn't be hard at all.
"What would becoming a Cerberus Agent mean?"
"You'll be a part of McGraw's cell, and seeing as how McGraw and I work closely on many things, you will occasionally receive work from me, as well as McGraw." A pause, "your assignments, once you've grown older and have proven you can handle them, will be anything from spy assignments to wet-work assassinations."
"I'll be killing people?"
"If the situation calls for it, I would expect you to." The Illusive Man stated bluntly.
Miranda's gaze faltered, as that thought entered her mind. She had fired her weapon, but she knew she hadn't actually killed anyone at the mansion. If she joined Cerberus, it would be like joining the Alliance Marines, killing someone was all but a guarantee.
The stirring of the infant child in her arms reminded her of what she was working for. With her jaw set, she made her decision.
"I'll do it."
"Excellent." Said The Illusive Man, "McGraw knows what to do next. Oriana's foster parents should be arriving within the week." He explained, "remember, Miranda. The Alliance fights for Earth, her colonies, her interests, and her children. Cerberus, like the SIGMAs, fight for Humanity itself."
"Can I ask you a question, sir?" Miranda asked, before he could cut the communication link.
The Illusive Man paused, his hand hovering just above the dusty hologram what would have severed the link. He considered Miranda for a moment, before he lowered his hand. "You can certainly ask me your question, Miss Lawson. Whether or not I choose to answer it is what matters."
A pause, she steeled herself for this, rationalizing that the man in front of her may know more than she did. "I noticed a name, in McGraw's ship." The Illusive Man's shadowy face tilted the slightest bit to the right, Miranda assumed he'd already figured out what she was asking about. "Next to it was McGraw's and one other's. Your profile suggests that you're the second man in the picture, you don't even have to confirm it, I can tell." She couldn't tell at all: even if it were in its death throes, the man was sitting in front of a sun, that made some details hard to see; but fortunately for her his answer came in the form of silence, suggesting to her she was correct, so she pressed on. "Who is Edward Spokane? Why is McGraw so secretive about him?" She couldn't help but ask the question, it was something that had been plaguing her mind ever since McGraw had denied her the information.
Cerberus' leader didn't even offer her a contemplative silence, his answer came almost as soon as Miranda had finished speaking. "I'm afraid, Miss Lawson, that you are mistaken." He said, simply, almost kindly, despite the cold stare gave, before the communication was cut.
A/N:
You guys wanted him punished... So, I took from him the only damn thing that could keep him human.
:)