Ch. 12: Missing Zeros
Miranda
I woke with a start, immediately groaning and rolling over to push my face back into the pillow. My dreams had been angry and dark with flashes of yelling, my father, and Shepard. Everywhere was Shepard. I turned again and stared out at the thousands of stars blurring across my window, trying to breathe normally as I reminded myself that everything was fine. I'm in my bed. I'm on the Normandy. Everything is fine. I blinked against the lights that were growing brighter in my cabin as the sensors picked up my movement. I almost commanded them off, but glowing orange numbers on my clock (I was already on a new one. I finally broke the last one with a well placed biotic shot the morning after we'd realized Shepard had gone off to Bekenstein on her own.) alerted me that the morning had already started.
The crew of the Normandy had fallen back into their routine with the return of the commander, and I could hear the sounds of people moving around in the kitchen. I glanced at the clock again; morning watch was just about ended, and the first of three shifts were about to head back to their stations. Each team, named Charon, Styx or Hydra, worked a four hour shift before being relieved by the next team and taking an eight hour break. Then there were two "dog shifts" (which I found to be amusing because...Cerberus) that were only two hours long in the evening to fit everything into twenty-four Earth-based hours.
The crew worked hard, but everyone seemed happy to be here, and I had heard no complaints, formal or otherwise. They were paid well and had whole days off when the Normandy was docked at a station or the ground team was on a mission. After several weeks working together, the crewman were all friendly with each other. I'd even heard some rumors of a weekly poker game that started up below decks—only friendly games without monetary compensation, of course. Even when the games did tend to involve money, well, Cerberus could afford to be more lenient on things like that. It was the worst kept secret on the ship, and everyone knew that I knew about it. I continued to let it slide; I could think of worse ways for the crew to entertain themselves. Besides, it was helping to bring everyone together, even better than Shepard's training sessions.
The sound of a crowd of crew members in the morning had now become comforting as I adjusted more and more to life on a ship. I had spent the first week on board cursing the thin bulkhead between my room and the noisy kitchen, but, now, among the clanging of pots and hiss of appliances, there was laughter and joking. It was...pleasant to hear, even if I wasn't really welcome to join.
Finally gathering the willpower to slip out from under my covers, I quickly padded over to my closet and grabbed clothing from the hangars. Today was going to be another travel day, so I passed over wearing my white one-piece for a looser, less battle-ready ensemble. The top was simple, white with a square neckline similar to my suit, and I paired it with snug black pants that I tucked into my usual boots. The pants bore a small Cerberus logo on the hip, but were otherwise unadorned. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I could admit that the full effect was downright casual compared to my usual. I tossed a smile at myself in the mirror, pleased with having a 'day off', even if I could never consider myself fully off-duty. Honestly, it would be a relief to finally have some real down time.
After pulling my hair back and pinning it into a low bun, I grabbed the novel, spine uncracked, from my table and tucked it against my side. I was hoping I might grab my breakfast quickly and eat while I read in the lounge. All in all, it sounded like a lovely way to spend my morning.
A few steps past my doorway and I was met a whole host of people gathered around the tables in the mess hall. A glance back at my clock told me that I had indeed decided to exit right before the shift change, meaning much of the crew was squeezing in breakfast before relieving their morning watch counterparts. So tied up in my thoughts, I had mistimed my exit: a rookie mistake. While I might have found the sound of the crew comforting, I had always planned my breakfast just before or just after the main horde moved through. I couldn't turn back in; several people had already seen me in my doorway.
My eyes roamed over the bodies in attendance, and I stiffened when I recognized Shepard's distinctive hair at one of the tables. Only last night I had yelled at her, called her a mistake. Shame rolled through me in waves as I looked at her, an emotion I'd honestly forgotten I could feel. I hadn't really meant my words, but I was so incredibly frustrated with her attitude. She'd made me feel foolish, a sentiment that was also rarely forced upon me.
I made my way over to the line that was formed in front of the food, thanking whatever powers that be that Shepard was seated with her back to me. I straightened my own back and set my face as I approached the other crew members, prepared for the silence that would accompany their noticing me. They would awkwardly still when they saw me, move away to let me pass. They always shuffled back to put me first, warily respectful but twinged with dislike. I was used to it. Mostly.
The reaction I received instead was certainly unexpected. Crewman Hawthorne caught my eye and actually smiled, waving for me to take the place in front of him in line. I stopped myself from actually stumbling in my confusion, but walked carefully up to him with suspicion.
"Thank you, Operative Lawson," Hawthorne said enthusiastically. I eyed him guardedly now, looking for some sort of trick. Sure, most of the crew had a lot to thank me for. I took care of most of the logistics to run the Normandy from day to day and even handled smaller issues that weren't strictly part of my job, but that didn't mean that they noticed. They surely didn't find it necessary to thank me for it.
"I honestly have no idea what you're thanking me for, Crewman," I answered, stiff and uncomfortable.
"The improved rations you picked up on the Citadel have worked wonders," he explained. "Rupert used the past two days to finish off the old supplies and just pulled out the new stuff today as a surprise."
I settled my face into my business smile before replying, "Of course, Crewman Hawthorne. I do my best to keep up morale."
He turned his face away, but it looked suspiciously like Hawthorne rolled his eyes at my reply. But then it was gone, and he was looking at me just as genuinely as before.
"Yeah, all of us assumed it was Shepard that arranged it, but she told us that it was actually you. Just thought I'd let you know how much we all appreciate it," Hawthorne said.
I spun in surprise to look at Shepard, but her back was still steadfastly facing me, even though I had the sneaking suspicion that she was listening to every word.
"I don't even think there will be leftovers," Hawthorne said happily, motioning me forward again. "Get it while it's good."
I nodded to him, trying a small smile on for size before deciding it was disagreeable. It was somewhat nice to see most of the crew looking at me like they weren't terrified of me, but mostly just disorienting. That would go away soon at least. A healthy dose of fear was good; it wouldn't do for the crew to view me as anything more than mildly amicable.
I had a small serving of cereal and a muffin balanced on my tray, and I turned to grab a drink when a synchronized beep sounded on every omni-tool in the room: shift change. I heard Hawthorne groan behind me and start stuffing food in his mouth before depositing his tray in the proper place and moving with the others on Team Charon to the elevator. There would be a minor rush around the elevator as Team Styx left morning watch and flooded out onto the third deck, but those crewman typically headed straight for their bunks or the empty crew lounge and ate later.
Another blip sounded from my omni, and the daily budget report flashed for my attention. I reached to dismiss it, tray balanced precariously since I didn't have enough hands, when a row of numbers caught my attention. The omni-tool didn't show the whole message, just a small cut-off window, but the summary in the top right was wrong. It had to be.
My stomach twisted as I set my tray back down on the kitchen serving counter, motioning for the whole message to come up on the display. The top right presented the total for the mission's monetary accounts. It was missing a zero. It was missing quite a few zeroes. I had to lean against the counter for a moment, my mind racing.
I had managed our money meticulously, even budgeting the extra expense for the new food. There was absolutely no reason why our accounts would drop so dramatically. Then I hit the scroll and saw the name that was printed next to the last ten transactions: Shepard, Com.
"Don't race out of the room on my account," Shepard muttered, annoyed, from where she still sat at the table.
Dots blinked across my vision as I tried to breathe and not explode in my anger. The argument from last night still wasn't blown over, and this certainly would make things worse. But, bloody hell, if I'd known this last night, I let an enraged shudder ripple its way down my back, I definitely would have yelled louder. Much louder.
I looked more closely at the expenses. Sure there were some I could justify—gun mods and new armor pieces—but what the hell kind of upgrade was so important it was worth 75,000 credits?
What was worse was the incoming message that blinked into existence right below the budget report.
Miranda,
It would seem your operation is low on funds. I'm willing to authorize a supplemental transfer under one condition: a mission to Lorek. One of our operatives is missing, captured by Eclipse mercenaries. It's unclear what Eclipse has planned, but the data Operative Rawlings possesses is sensitive. It's imperative that it be recovered. I've sent a copy of all the details to Shepard. No doubt she will ignore it. If the Normandy takes care of it, you'll have the money.
TIM
This was the first time I'd ever been sent a message like this from The Illusive Man. I felt like a child being chastised by a parent, and heaven knows I'd had enough parental oversight to last a lifetime. I could feel my jaw twitching as I glared at the back of Shepard's head. Childish, inconsiderate, irresponsible. This was a privately funded operation, not the Alliance, and for God's sake I'm taking her credit chit away. It wasn't as if Cerberus had an infinite amount of money; certainly Shepard remembered the fortune we'd spent bringing her back to life. I mean, I suppose Cerberus wasn't exactly going to run out soon either, but Shepard knows how to manage money, and I swear...
The tirade continued silently in my head for a few moments more, and then I just deflated, throwing an exasperated glance up at the Normandy's ceiling like there was something out there that could help me. So much for a lovely morning off.
"Shepard, we have a problem," I began, settling on the bench across the table from her.
"Back for another round?" Shepard scowled, though even she must have realized how childish it sounded because she sat up straighter and met my eyes.
"I suppose that depends largely on you," I intimated, picking gingerly at the muffin I had yet to eat. My cereal was probably soggy by now as well.
Shepard sighed, rolling her neck out before grudgingly giving me her full attention. "Spit it out, Lawson."
"We have a mission we need to take care of before we fly to recruit Dr. Okeer," I stated, pressing my lips together in an attempt to hold back the slurry of my more impassioned opinions.
"Yeah I saw that in my mail. But I don't work for Cerberus," Shepard retorted. It was her usual fallback, but this time it had a weakness.
"You do when you spend all our money," I corrected, my voice coming out cold and hard. Shepard sat back in surprise.
"Surely we can't be that low?" Shepard asked, her eyes growing worried, and the anger in my chest melted slightly, very slightly.
"We don't even have enough to buy the small amount of fuel necessary to get us from the mass relay to Okeer's location. And the planet is even in the same system," I informed her, finally taking a few bites of my breakfast in the silence that followed. I flushed when I realized Shepard was watching my movements with fascination, but then she realized as well and turned away until her face fell stoic once more. The silence stretched on as she seemed to think while pushing around the remaining scraps of her breakfast.
"Not much of a choice then," Shepard reached a decision, and irritation rasped against my chest again. She'd had plenty of choices when she'd spent our money in the first place. "How do we get to Lorek then?"
"The travel cost will be included in the payment we'll receive after the mission is completed. I'll have to ask the cost be advanced," I admitted, my annoyance seeping through, and Shepard glowered back at me.
"Alright," Shepard agreed, looking done with the conversation. Or maybe finished with my presence. "Is that all?"
I stood, ready to toss my barely eaten breakfast in the trash, when I saw something that gave me pause. There was a cuff wrapped around her upper forearm that I had never seen before. It looked impossibly thin, almost like it was part of her skin, and an intricate geometric pattern danced across its length. The thin cords it was composed of looked slightly metallic, and they ranged in colors from gold to white as they wove in and out of the complicated plait.
I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me, "What is that?" at the same time Shepard abashedly turned and said, "I need a favor."
We both stared at each other a moment before I broke in, "You first."
I had meant for her to tell me her favor first, but instead she said, "They call them nara. It's an asari thing; Liara taught me how to make it. Each color represents a person, and you pick the color based on what that person means to you."
I expected her to stop her explanation there; it seemed like such a personal topic. I was surprised when, almost with a hint of excitement, she continued, "A component in the cords is element zero—just a small amount—which is why they look iridescent. I started it two years ago, but it's always possible to add onto it. See," she brought her arm closer for inspection, and I held my breath, waiting for her to realize what she was doing, who she was revealing this to, "The white is Chakwas. I added Garrus in as royal purple, and Anderson is the emerald green.
"The gold is Elise," Shepard's voice hesitated on the name, like she was reluctant to even say it aloud to me, but then her eyes lit up in a way that made my chest ache when, with obvious adoration, she said, "and the cerulean is…"
"Liara," I guessed, cutting in.
She nodded, her eyes snapping to mine. I'm not sure what she saw there but it had her pulling her arm back to her side. I thought I could reasonably guess what the colors might mean—or, at least, I'd know for sure when I researched it later—but I found myself wanting to hear more. There were still more colors woven in: a zigzag of bright red dancing with a wave of yellow, an earthy brown, sunset orange. But Shepard already had a hand covering it protectively, and the moment was over. I wonder what color I'd be, traitorous thought that it was, flashed through my head.
"Where did you get it? It wasn't something I tracked down for your cabin," I asked, and the joy faded so quickly from her eyes I wondered if I'd ever seen it at all.
"Anderson had it for me, along with my old N7 jacket," Shepard admitted. Her tone told me everything, and I knew, just knew, that Shepard was thinking the same thing: Liara must have been on the Citadel recently. It was the puzzle piece that told Shepard Liara had been there, had known she was alive, and hadn't stayed, hadn't waited. And as much as the selfish part of me secretly rejoiced, the rest of me hurt with sympathy at Shepard's unmistakeable pain.
"You had a favor to ask?" I quickly switched topics out of the dangerous territory.
Shepard snapped to and nodded. I fought a smile at the obvious relief that spilled over her face.
"One of the upgrades I bought isn't exactly a self-installing kind of thing."
And with that, my body tensed with dread and worry. No doubt this was what Shepard spent 75,000 credits on. So help me if it's a worthless piece of junk…
"It's a skeletal lattice medical upgrade, so I was thinking you could help me with it since you're my builder person," and I couldn't help but mouth the words 'builder person' again with amazement before Shepard continued, "the instructions say it's about a two day recovery, so after Lorek, you could install it and I'd have plenty of time to heal before we go get Okeer."
"Install?" I repeated incredulously. Honestly, install a medical upgrade like her body was some kind of mec. "What part of the name 'skeletal lattice' made you think you could implant it yourself?" I asked instead.
Shepard just shrugged. "Shouldn't be too difficult for you, Lawson," Shepard said almost sarcastically, but she also followed with a hesitant, "that is, if it doesn't make you uncomfortable or something."
"That's not exactly a favor; it's part of my job. Plus," I smirked, "it isn't anything I haven't seen before."
And I meant that it wasn't a complicated medical implant, that working on Shepard wasn't something that was new, but then Shepard actually flushed and I found myself biting my lip.
Recovering quickly, I finally took a step away to make my exit.
"I'll inform Joker we're making a fuel stop and then changing course to Lorek," I relayed, breathing easier with the extra foot of space. Everything around Shepard was a heady cloud of intoxication that seemed to pull me in even when only 12 hours ago I was screaming in her face.
"The money?" Shepard queried, and there, there was the flash of guilt, though it shouldn't have made me feel so smug.
"I'll take care of it," I assured her.
"No doubt," Shepard said, and if the response was only a shard of confidence in me surrounded by walls of bitterness and sarcasm, I pretended not to notice. Or maybe I was just surprised there was that note of confidence at all.
Miranda
The shuttle landed with a thump on the abandoned landing pad. A cursory glance told me there were no enemies here, but I released my gun from its holster before hitting the shuttle door control. A hop down from the vehicle and still no gunfire. It was...suspicious.
"No greeting party?" Garrus joked, looking around with exaggerated movements. "Now I'm just offended. It's like they didn't even remember we were coming to visit."
I rolled my eyes and looked to Shepard, whose eyes were just as wary as they drug over cargo boxes and anything that could be use for cover, by either side. The commander gripped her shotgun firmly before giving the wave to move out. Her ground team fell in, consisting of just myself and Garrus this time. Due to the sensitive nature of the mission and the tight quarters we were expecting, Shepard had agreed that a small group would be best.
We moved through the front door, which was unsurprisingly unlocked. If the mercs were trying to draw us in, they were hardly subtle. If we weren't hoping to recover both Rawlings and the data intact, I would have suggested just destroying the whole facility with the Normandy. Alas, things, of course, would never be that easy.
When we reached the interior door, everyone paused to listen. I could just barely make out the sounds of movement on the other side, and the three of us raised our guns in tandem.
"Alright, everyone, gird your loins," Garrus warned seriously. Shepard made a face and punched him in the armored arm, probably hurting her hand more than it hurt him.
"Gird my what now? The hell did that come from Garrus?" Shepard whispered heatedly.
"Hey! Turians can consume human media too. I'll have you know that is a very popular human phrase," Garrus whispered back.
"From what? A hundred years ago?" Shepard retorted, letting a hand off her shotgun to wave it in disbelief. Garrus' face fell, looking momentarily stumped.
"Maybe. What of it? Turian history goes back 15,000 years; One hundred years ago is like yesterday. It's not my fault human history is so short," he argued, his nose wrinkling.
Shepard's eyes widened and then she was waving a finger in Garrus' face.
"You watched 'The Devil Wears Prada', didn't you? Didn't you?" Shepard accused, and Garrus' mouth shut guiltily.
"You two, this is hardly the time," I intervened. Shepard's mouth fell open again, and she started waving vaguely in my direction, speechless.
"You...you've been making 'Miranda' comments for days, and I've been so confused!" Shepard exclaimed, now even less quiet. For heaven's sake, the mercs would definitely know where we were now. "You just wouldn't shut up on the comms during Hock's party. I thought you were losing it."
"I might've watched it once...or twice. It was on a list naming the best movies to watch to understand human culture," Garrus admitted sheepishly. "The quotes seemed to...fit."
Shepard began waving at me again excitedly. "Miranda Priestly, and her name's Miranda! You are brilliant, my turian friend!" Shepard exclaimed before rounding on me. "Say 'that's all.'"
"What? I have no idea what you're talking about," I said confused. Apparently there was a movie with someone named Miranda? I had no idea how else that was supposed to apply to me.
Shepard's mouth twisted in disappointment, and she gripped her gun again. Still, she grinned at Garrus before saying, in a falsely low voice, "Details of your incompetence do not interest me."
The turian snickered, and I stared at the both of them.
"Although, Garrus, I should probably warn you that, while a classic, that movie is not a great indicator of human culture," Shepard continued, still amused. "You should really be less trusting of everything on the extranet."
Garrus just shrugged with roll of his eyes, and I remained completely lost. I'd have to watch this movie so I could figure out what they were talking about. Shepard, however, didn't give me more time to think on it, stepping up to the door control finally.
"Now that the enemy knows exactly where we are…," I muttered as Shepard moved to open the door.
Shepard turned, quirking an eyebrow. "Were we ever under the impression that this was something other than a trap? They knew where we were anyway," Shepard pointed out, and I sighed in acquiescence. Turning from me, Shepard hoisted her shotgun into position and hovered her hand over the control. "Alright, eyes sharp and be ready for bullets the minute this door opens. I'll give us an initial barrier, open this door, and then we move for cover immediately. Ready?"
Garrus and I both nodded at Shepard and her red striped arm rose towards the controls. Her fingers snapped across the green lit button, and then we were rushing forward, bullets immediately exploding yellow against the swirling blue of Shepard's barrier. There were several mercs straight ahead of us, crouched behind crates, so I threw out an area warp, satisfied when it ate through their shields and left them breathless with the impact. The three of us moved forward as a unit. The biotic barriers were holding against the onslaught aimed at us from the upper level, but not for much longer. We made to move for the lower level cover that the first group of mercs were still behind, but before we even made to shoot at them, they were retreating back and towards the upper level stairs to join their comrades. My stomach gave that twist that told me something was wrong; they had given up position too easily.
Shepard saw it at the same time I did and was already shoving Garrus and me ahead of her in a mad dash to avoid the explosion that erupted out of the crates. I felt searing heat scorching across my back, my neck, and my thighs, and then suddenly I was flying face forward into the nearby wall.
I must only have been knocked out for a few seconds, but when I came to, Shepard had already managed to drag me a few feet where we hid behind a few tables she had pulled over onto their sides. She and Garrus were alternating popping out of cover, keeping the enemies from converging on us while we regained our wits. My ears were ringing, and my head screamed like my brain had just been put through a blender. My chest pinched uncomfortably as I reached a hand and prodded gently at a gash on my forehead that ran the side of my face back into my hairline. My fingers came away with a lot of blood, but nothing felt overly painful. It seemed like my barriers were able to hold out against the brunt of the explosion and consequential encounter with the wall, but the indicator on my omni-tool showed my kinetic barriers hadn't recharged. My biotics were drained as well. I swore internally.
I tried to turn over so I could push to my knees, but let out a gasp when I tried to move my left leg. I could barely get it to react, but even the smallest movement shot pain rippling through my muscles until I was biting back a scream. A slowly increasing pool of blood was now visible underneath me, and I cursed lowly.
Shepard shifted to look back at me, and her eyes widened before motioning to Garrus to keep us covered. None too gently, she positioned me on my side to get a look at the back of my leg, muttering along the way something about 'real goddamn armor.' I was inclined to agree with her. Usually, the benefits of having free movement outweighed the heavier weight but superior protection of full armor, but today a few more layers between myself and that blast could have come in handy.
"Hamstringed," Shepard said gruffly, using a hand to put pressure on my wound while she fumbled at a pouch for an application of medi-gel. And if I thought that the pain was bad before, it was nothing compared to how it felt when Shepard's palm pushed down hard. "One of the crate shards must have sliced through in the explosion. Must not have cut through everything back there if you can still move it, but I'm not sure you're going to be able to stand."
I nodded at her with clenched teeth, and Shepard's fingers finally found the medi-gel I needed. She ripped into the top of the pouch with her teeth before pouring the translucent goo into the laceration on the back of my thigh. The breath I'd been holding broke forward in a sigh of relief as the gel molded where it was needed and quickly hardened. The area numbed slightly as well, enough to keep the pain from being distracting, and Shepard prodded at the covering a few times to make sure everything was holding.
"All good," Shepard assented, before lending a hand to get me onto my good knee.
A quick assessment of our position showed us backed into a poorly covered corner, with at least five enemies in an advantageous spot above us on the second level. This is just bloody spectacular.
"What was that about a trap?" I asked, and Shepard grunted out a laugh.
The mercs were frustratingly covered by a wall and at an awkward angle for us to shoot at, but they were having a field day with us. A smear of red at Shepard's shoulder showed where a bullet had made its way through her barriers and sunk into the flesh there. I saw the shiny top of the medi-gel that her suit had automatically dispensed to the area, but the the movement of her arm was noticeably slower. Garrus seemed to have escaped anything major, only shaking his head every few seconds, likely trying to clear residual ringing from the blast.
I realized I was only going to be a help to this fight at range; it was very unlikely I'd be moving from this spot. I spied a merc getting careless and leaving the top of his head exposed over the side of the wall and caught Garrus' eye, to which he gave a nod and reached for his sniper rifle. Once his gun was fully extended, I hit the wall with an overload. It managed to catch the top of the one merc's head, and he jerked up as the electricity traveled to his muscles. His head was gone a second later with the twitch of Garrus' finger against his trigger.
Blood sprayed out and coated the visor of a vanguard next to him, and she went stumbling to the side, wiping frantically to clear her vision. The moment she moved from her cover I sank a bullet in her shoulder, giving Garrus enough space to launch a shot into her skull as well.
We got lucky with those two mercs down, but the remaining three were more fortified than before, having edged to where the wall around the level made a corner and protected them from two sides. One of the merc's arms reared back, and then Shepard and Garrus were both grabbing my arms, pulling me with them as we escaped a grenade that arched across the room and stuck to the floor next to our table.
"Who the fuck uses this many explosives in a place as small as this?" Shepard swore angrily. "This whole thing could come down on top of us. It's not exactly sturdy construction!"
"You know we'd be using them if we had them. Too bad you decided against bringing the rocket launcher, eh Shepard?" Garrus wheezed out a joke through the smoke filling the room from the latest explosive.
Shepard ignored him as she yelled out her plan, "Alright, my singularity isn't the best, but I think I can get it to pull at least one of them up from behind that wall. Think you two can be fast enough when it does?"
"Looks like it's the only thing we can do," I agreed after eyeing the scene. "We can't possibly get close enough for anything else." Shepard made a noise like annoyance my input, but didn't otherwise respond.
A pointed look asked Garrus and me whether we were ready, then a sound like a slap pealed through the room as a singularity was forced into existence. One unlucky merc was nabbed by the leg, and she was hauled up with a shout. Garrus let off a clean shot that pierced through her helmet after my overload handled her shields, and then her body floated limply with the quickly fading singularity. A percentage of my biotics were now back, so I took aim and threw a warp with my remaining strength at Shepard's flickering singularity. The biotics exploded out violently on contact, blasting the two remaining mercs against the wall they were behind.
Shepard took off. Storming up the stairs, she took advantage of the disorientation of the blast to get in close, Garrus hot on her heels to give her backup. Once Shepard was close, it was all over. Her charge snapped one merc's neck immediately, and the other followed quickly after when Shepard shoved the nozzle of her shotgun right underneath the woman's helmet. When the trigger pulled, the mercenary's neck disappeared completely in a splattering mess, and both body and severed head thudded to the ground.
Garrus grimaced in disgust. "Must you?"
Shepard just shrugged, unconcerned, and turned her back to trot over to where I was still kneeling awkwardly behind a crate. I managed to push myself up cautiously, leaning heavily on the crate, and swept my eyes along our trail of carnage. Biotics scorched against every surface, providing the backdrop for the smears of red that trickled down the crates. The multiple explosives had left a thin layer of black on most of the room as well. It was actually gruesome how much gore the three of us were able to create together. My eyes followed Shepard's path up the stairs and onto the upper deck where the remaining bodies were strewn, and I frowned at the pulp that used to be a body before it met a shotgun. That really is repugnant. I'll take pistols any day, I thought to myself.
Shepard arrived next to me, having pulled off her helmet to try and wipe the blood clouding the visor, and offered her arm. Proudly, I scoffed at her and tried putting weight on my bad leg to walk on my own.
I ended up making a fool of myself when my leg gave out with pain, and I stumbled forward into her arms. An overwhelming feeling of closeness followed. I spent so much time being surrounded by people on the Normandy, yet actually so removed that feeling Shepard's armor digging into my sternum was like shock that traveled all the way up to my throat and made it hard to breathe. First, the crew smiling at me this morning and then this. I didn't even know what to do with this.
Shepard's fingers were cutting into my arms from where she caught me to hold me up, and I was pressed so close to her that I could feel her chin brush the top of my head when she turned to try and pull me fully onto my feet. I was still leaning on her when I lifted my chin and her face was right there above mine. She was watching me with those dark, emerald eyes, and it was like I could physically see the battle waged behind them. It was look I'd become used to over the past month, the one where she asked herself: friend or foe?
I wanted to reassure her, to tell her that I was, of course, on her side. But was I really? I already held secrets from her. If the Illusive Man ordered me to act against her, I think I would do it. But even the fact that I wasn't absolutely sure scared me. A month ago, no matter that I had spent two years building Shepard, if the Illusive Man had ordered me to dispose of Shepard, I would have—without thinking, without blinking.
I jerked my face away from Shepard in a movement that made her flinch, and she quickly rearranged us so that she had an arm supporting under my shoulders. Her usual scowl was back on her face by the time she had maneuvered me up the stairs, but she helped me get into position behind the wall with an uncharacteristic gentleness that had me staring up at her in confusion.
Shepard didn't notice. She was already posted up into front of the computer, scanning through the files to find our man, Rawlings. Garrus crouched down next to me, balancing his rifle on the top of the wall as we both watched warily for any more enemies.
"Alright," Shepard hummed. "Looks like Rawlings was protecting the fact that Cerberus was performing experiments on the Rachni. Well, shit, I could have told them that. I killed enough of those buggers running clean up for multiple Cerberus facilities." She eyed me with a smirk. If she's waiting for me to thank her on Cerberus' behalf, she has another thing coming.
"Also looks like he didn't crack," Shepard continued. "And they weren't able to decrypt the data on their own. Which, by the way, is not on this server; I can't get anything from here. My guess is we find Rawlings—or, you know, what's left of him—and we'll find that data too."
Shepard looked like she meant to continue talking, but I interrupted with a shout to warn her of new enemies pouring out of the opposite door. She dropped quickly, but still caught the glancing blow of a biotic shockwave on her shoulder. Shepard crunched onto the ground a ways from me, out of breath and hissing at the pain. Her helmet was gone, stupidly removed at the end of the last wave, and I could see it from where it sat just down the steps, the dark, reflective visor facing us. Shepard's hair stuck wetly to her forehead in its absence, already pulling out from the hair tie.
I saw the mercs disappearing through a door, and realization caused me to turn in panic towards the door on our platform. I tried to yell the warning at Shepard, but, either because she was still dizzy from the shockwave or because it was too loud with the gunfire, she wasn't responding. Snapping to a decision, I held two fingers at my ear and connected over to Garrus, whose helmet was still in its proper place on his head.
"Garrus, I need that door shut quickly. Incoming down the hallway. Try overloading the circuits to make sure they can't get through it. Then post up in that corner over there and force their heads down with that rifle of yours," I ordered. Garrus eyed me for a moment, before nodding hastily and running in a crouch towards the door. I watched him until he sank quickly at the base of the door before setting to work on the illuminated controls.
Shepard was finally bouncing back, catching her breath enough to reinforce her own biotics and disperse the residual effects of the shockwave. She roughly slid into the half wall next to me, and she was very obviously favoring her left shoulder. Oh, I realized, that shockwave hit the shoulder that was already wounded. I grimaced in sympathy, noting, at least, that the medi-gel was holding, and Shepard hadn't begun to bleed again.
Without Shepard's helmet, I was now privy to all the Commander's little noises that were usually blocked by a layer of ablative ceramic during battle. It seemed obscenely intimate, the way I could hear her breath coming out in harsh bursts around the pained twist of her mouth, when before I had been faced with a smooth expanse of black. Her eyes screamed at me now, shouting all the emotions of battle that had previously been shadowed by the tint of her visor.
I looked away. Garrus had done as I'd ordered and positioned himself in the corner to keep our enemy from advancing on us. But neither his gun nor mine would be useful against the contents of the distinctive little box the mercs opened.
"Shepard, give us a barrier. Make it a small dome around us three. I'll throw a straight barrier out a ways, but I don't think I'll hold past the first few hits. My biotics are too tired," I directed, motioning for Garrus to shuffle in closer.
Shepard's cheek gave an angry tick, but there was no time to argue, not when I'd given the right order. A shimmer of blue wobbled into existence a few feet from us, leaving a farewell present in the form of blossoming pain behind my eyes. I quickly wiped at the trickle of blood seeping from my nose, but I felt Shepard's eyes on me before I could get rid of the evidence. One, two, three grenades exploded against my barrier before it flickered out, and then Shepard molded her own biotics around us as another lobby of grenades flew towards us.
"Maybe your biotics wouldn't be so drained if you hadn't tried to put your barrier around all three of us for that first bomb. We were too spaced out; I'm not sure how you held it," Shepard scolded, grudgingly approving while disapproving at the same time. We both flinched as another cluster of grenades violently detonated against the barrier, but it held.
I looked at her in surprise; I hardly remembered pushing my barrier out beyond myself. Did I really throw out a barrier around all of us? It didn't really sound like me, but, then again, much had changed in the space of a month.
Finally, our enemy threw out an array of grenades in a last ditch effort to break through, but Shepard held, throwing up yet another barrier, even when her face went pink from the effort. Soon she was pulling her rifle from her back, and goodness how does someone make sweaty and blood-splattered look attractive? I shook myself quickly into focus and joined Shepard in a quick pop above cover to scan the situation.
It was clear that the enemy had been trying to regain control of the situation, but, without the element of surprise and their supply of grenades seemingly exhausted, it was too late. The three of us were in superior position this time, and, thankfully, the battle was a far cry from the foxhole we'd previously been in. We were able to keep adequately covered behind the wall, but the enemy had good cover, too, resulting in a stalemate as both sides took shots from behind walls and thick pillars. To top it off, an engineer was holed up nicely in a corner, jumpstarting the shield regeneration of his nearby comrades with a modified overload function and sending a drone out regularly to attack for him. Shepard was soon growling in frustration.
The enemy still managed to have numbers on us, until they tried sending a few men down the lower level to get at us. Garrus and I occupied the mercs up top, while Shepard took care of those unfortunate souls once they got close enough, but then we were right back where we were before: an impasse.
That was when I saw the still half full box of grenades that had been shoved underneath the computer desk by its previous residents. I pointed it out to Shepard, and she responded with a wicked grin.
"And just what are you smiling about, Shepard?" Garrus called out, ducking down after a shot. "I thought you didn't want to do this anymore."
"I meant I was tired of being a hero, you ass!" she yelled back. Her face was smudged now with red, making a gorey type of battle paint across her face, but when she smiled it was like she was on stage for an award, blinding and brilliant and gorgeous. "Doesn't mean I don't still love a good fight."
Then she was shoving two grenades at Garrus because he was our best aim. Pins clicked out, and then they were soaring across the room, bouncing against the back wall to explode a magnificent ten foot radius along with several mercenaries that hadn't seen the danger in time.
We focused on what was now our last enemy, the salarian engineer whose combat drone had already managed to shock me. He was several meters away from me, and, still frustratingly hidden. Garrus remained on the platform with the computer we had accessed, and Shepard took a bullet against her barrier as she wedged herself back up next to me.
"What's it look like?"
"He's just behind that pillar, successfully out of both my and Garrus' line of sight. Keeps sending that drone out, but it goes down easily with one overload," I muttered, annoyed.
"Revenge. I like it. Serves the thing right for shocking me in the ass earlier. It's still tingling," Shepard replied. She laughed and smiled over at me, though it twisted and fell when she realized. She hurriedly turned forward again.
"Okay, give me some covering fire. Keep him behind that pillar. I'll get it from there," Shepard ordered, running in a crouch towards the stairs. Garrus and I both took useless shots at the cement support, but it forced the salarian to stay put. The drone appeared regularly, but I took it down before it could get close to Shepard as she snuck as close to the enemy as she could.
When she was in position, I motioned for Garrus to move up behind her, ready to come to her aid if it was needed. Shepard's biotics flared, and then she was a blur moving forward. The salarian grunted as she bowled him over and into a wall, ending with an arm at his neck that she pressed and pressed and pressed until the salarian slumped over. She let him drop with a heavy crunch.
Shepard stared at the body for a moment longer, and, without a word, she and Garrus turned back to me. They each gave me a shoulder for support, and we walked for the last door in the facility. Rawlings had to be through there.
Shepard hit the switch and the door reluctantly creaked open to reveal a room covered in gore. There was a body to the side that could only be Rawlings, and his blood was spattered across the wall where it wasn't dripping down the chair holding him. My stomach churned, but I swallowed hard to keep it under control. I tried to take a steadying breath, but that was a bad idea. Rawlings had been here long enough for there to be a smell. I attempted to cough out my discomfort as subtly as I could, and, luckily, neither of my teammates said anything. Honestly, Garrus wasn't looking too peachy either, his eyes darting quickly away from the mess everytime they accidentally landed on Rawlings' body.
Shepard was as steady as ever, walking briskly up to the computer while ignoring everything else. Fingers flew across the hepatic keyboard until she paused and read intently. Briefly, she looked over her shoulder at me with a look I couldn't decipher before continuing with the computer.
With a sigh, Shepard turned to face me and Garrus.
"The data is here," Shepard said bluntly.
"That was the point wasn't it? We'll take it back to the Normandy and send it on to Cerberus," I said, wondering why she seemed so hesitant. This was a job, and we needed the money.
"You don't want to give it to Cerberus," Garrus intoned quietly, reading her correctly and avoiding my glance.
"This is probably the only proof there is that Cerberus experimented with the Rachni. There might be something on their experiments with husks, too. I found both creatures in one facility two years ago, a facility where those experiments cost the lives of too many people. If I send it back, Cerberus will either bury it or destroy it," Shepard explained, agitatedly pacing back and forth in front of the computer.
I remained quiet. I could...reluctantly understand her point of view. The cells operating those experiments had been careless, and it had cost the lives of several Cerberus members. It wasn't a section of Cerberus I was particularly proud of.
On the other hand, the Illusive Man promised the addition funding in return for the acquisition of Rawlings' data.
"Seriously, Lawson? We've spent weeks arguing about Cerberus, and now you decide you don't have an opinion?" Shepard demanded, drawing me out of my thoughts.
"Did you have some other plan for the data? We need the money," I reminded her. Shepard's eyebrows drew down, and she kept pacing with a dramatic sigh.
"I could send it to the Alliance," Shepard said grimly. "Cerberus should be held accountable for what they've done."
"The Alliance isn't exactly the galaxy's judge and jury. If you want them to be held accountable, send it to the Council. But I think you and I both know what will happen with it: nothing," Garrus pointed out. "No one exactly needs a reminder of how horrible Cerberus is. If anything, sending this might just make you look worse for working with them right now."
"We could…"
Shepard interrupted me before I could finish my thought. "Yes, yes, Lawson. I get it. We'll send the data along for the money. I suppose morals don't matter when the galaxy is at stake," she mused bitterly.
"No, I was thinking we just take the data onto the Normandy," I corrected her. Shepard looked at me in exasperation, and I elaborated, "Only to the Normandy. She's technically a Cerberus vessel, so we technically turned the data in. I'll send a report saying we decided to give the data to EDI to decrypt. She's likely better than the Cerberus cyber division anyway."
"The Illusive Man still has direct access to the Normandy's systems though," Shepard noted. "If he wanted to delete it, he still could."
"So EDI makes a copy," I explained. "EDI is an AI; I'm sure she has places to hide a file that would take a human forever to find."
"And if I don't trust EDI to actually hide it? She is shackled with Cerberus protocols, after all," Shepard pointed out.
I frowned before settling on a shrug. "It's not a perfect plan, but it gives you a better shot than handing it over directly."
Shepard looked at me with the barest flicker of a smile.
"Good. Excellent thought, Lawson. We'll do that," Shepard decided.
"Of course, Shepard," I said wryly. She rolled her eyes at me. But she also wrapped a careful arm around my waist and helped me back to the ship.
Aaaand that's a wrap! Sorry for the longer wait, but I did make the chapter longer! I know there isn't a Garrus section in this one, but this is just the way the story was going. He'll have his time next chapter! How is Miranda doing in this story? Do you think I've captured her well enough from the game? She's the one I fret most about, so I'd love to hear your opinions!
Of course, thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, followed or fav'd. It makes my day! Thank you to my guest reviewer that I couldn't respond directly to, and special thanks to snusnu13, whose encouragement really pushed me through this chapter.