Chapter 46: Bait
Insomnia and a near constant migraine stained Shepard's eye-sockets like soot, the events on Horizon ensnarled her mind, the visions of the Cipher the memoirs moated and endungeoned her. Meditation helped give her at least some modicum of rest. In fact Shepard was relying more and more on them to settle her mind.
Harbinger taunted her dreams, boasting that he brought her naught but pain. But pain could be overcome; it could be channelled, just as the nightmares and memories creeping in from the Cipher were pushed back via the meditations. Even though Sam's mind was closely linked to an asari she was not one of them, anymore than she was Prothean. Sam could not - unlike Samara subsist on solely meditations rather than true sleep. At some point she had to lay head to pillow.
When she did sleep her dreams were a torment. Centred within a dead forest, endless black trees whose gnarled bony limbs reached out for Shepard as she ran through it always hunting, always searching. The forest floor seeped in oily fog and fires clogged the air around her. Their flames reaching ever higher making music like a cacophonous choir, echoing voices laced with of all her failures. Failure to save all the civilians on Elysium. To those lost on the Citadel, like Erinya's two daughters: the one that worked for the Embassies and the other who worked for the Consort.
Her failure to Kaiden. Shepard loathed having to sacrifice his life on the AA tower so that Ash could protect the A-bomb and insure that it went off. But there was so little choice; ultimately the mission had to succeed. All soldiers know this when they sign on, all good commanders know this painful truth—people under their command may die. They may have to issue the order that lead them to a direct death. Of course above it all was her ultimate failure to save the life of her daughter—Secura.
Throughout it all Ash hissing at her as a viper, accusing her of being a traitor, of playing with her emotions because of the incident with the CS—that she wasn't in her right mind since that first beacon. Sam now belonged to the Reapers—to Harbinger.
Most of the time the dreams ended with Shepard and Ash in a stand off, their guns pointed at one another. There was hesitation in Shepard's hand, before her was not an enemy but a friend however misguided. Ash wasn't going to back down and as he had with Captain Wasa, Garrus took the shot. The stunned expression clear in her dead eyes as Ash fell to the deck dead, a neat clean kill – one bullet directly between the eyes. The last words out of her mouth were 'I was only doing what you trained me to do, Skipper.'
Of all the nightmares Sam hated that one the most and tried desperately not to think of its hidden implications.
Samara shared a similar peripheral commonalty with the Spectre. Both were seeking answers, both devoted to hunting down and ending the existence of a fiend, both taken by old and far too familiar nightmares that clung to the mind like an unwanted houseguest overstaying their welcome.
Ardat-Yakshi reaped the lives of their lovers, their victims with gluttonous compulsion. They did so without remorse. Their addictions drove them to seek out more and more lives to fuel their hunger. The asari spoke so little of the true existence of the ardat-yakshi they became creatures of myth, cautionary tales of the dangers of pureblood mating. They were an embarrassment of asari culture, a great shame. No outsider knew the truth of them.
The Council seemed to be playing a very similar game with the existence of the Reapers as the asari did with the ardat-yakshi. Theses terrible and most powerful monsters were classed only as xenomorphic beings of mythology. Shadows conjured by scaremongers nothing more.
Making investigations of her own Samara had learned a great deal from High Command. A Justicar's request was never denied even by the Matriarchy. When Samara discovered that Matriarch Benezia had joined Saren not as a conspirator but to temper his actions, to change the course of his path, she was surprised. This of course came not from the Matriarchy but the acolyte that knew Benezia best, Mistress Shiala. Benezia T'Soni: High Priestess, the most respected of all Matriarchy, of Sari and Athame spoke of a great and terrible danger coming from Dark Space. Her words were unheeded and so she had taken it upon herself to do something about it and it cost her everything.
Even Matriarch Aethyta spoke out for years for the daughters of Thessia to forgo their wild maiden years dancing in strip joints or running in merc bands, that art and philosophy were all well and good but in the end it would only lead to disaster. The daughters had to be prepared, to be ready for something that was stirring beyond the edges of known space. She was humiliated by the Matriarchy and so she abandoned them to become a bartender on Illium. Or so the story went.
Of course the Matriarchy allowed Samara to know a bit more of the details. Aethyta was placed in Nos Austra to keep an eye on her daughter. Should Liara T'Soni give any indication of becoming like her mother the matriarch was to intervene. Saren had gone rogue and apparently as the rumors spread by the nefarious acts of Saren it seemed that Shepard once galactic hero was now following the same path as he.
Saren had know of something terrible and believed that slavery—indentured servitude—thatsynthesis was preferable to alienation. But he had made warnings that had been ignored. He was a poor deluded fool plagued by memories of his brother lost not by some sabotage by human insurgents or martyrdom but by something far darker, something that Matriarch Benezia had hinted was the true cause: the Reapers.
Always it was the Reapers. The cause of the Rachni Wars which had led to the Krogan Rebellions. If this was so then the Reapers were the ultimate strategists. Wars and rebellions a true and tested way to weaken infrastructures and cripple the greatest military might the galaxy has.
Samara agreed with Shepard: the Rachni Wars were created to test just who the mightiest warriors were, who were the greatest strategists and who had the willpower to overcome. The krogan were the mightiest of all warriors. And so they had to be crippled, they were pushed into Rebellion. Thus the greatest strategists emerged: the salarians who would not act unless they had won the war already. They won it be creating something so devastating it was a war crime. The genophage. The will to carry out such harsh totalitarian measures were the turians. While it was the asari who were left to put a balm on the rest of Council Space and tender peace just as they had during the Rachni Wars. Ensuring that the genophage was sold and wholly bought as a tragic necessity.
Shepard had gone on to theorize that these wars and rebellions were tests just as the plague on Omega had been. The plague was used to see which species succumbed and which adapted. And overall how the afflicted reacted to the plague as a whole, band together to fight or strike out at one another, which measures were taken to see to it that the plague was not spread. Such reactions would tell the Reapers via the Collector's documentations how this cycle's populous dealt with a major crisis.
It also told the Reapers which races would not be missed if gone, who had alliances and who did not, vorcha and batarians made the top of the list. Vorcha were hardy souls but gullible and aggressive. The batarian government was so omnipresent and paranoid it had no alliances of any significant note outside the Hegemony. It was to be Khar'shan's greatest downfall when the Reapers finally came. Their destruction would be swift and complete.
Samara completely agreed with Shepard's military assessment. During the Omegan plague the batarians proved they had no value as an ally to their neighbours: either as carers for the sick or to band together against the Blue Suns. They isolated themselves even then. To the Reapers they were to be crushed upon arrival as the living machines made their way to far more significant and fortified united galactic fronts.
Samara found herself more and more intrigued by the young human's thought process and strategies. So much so she had taken up reading Shepard's reverence for Sun Tzu's the Art of War. It seemed to have as many sutras for every conservable aspect of war as the Code had for any situation a Justicar may encounter.
The Matriarchy of Thessia was utterly surprised to learn the Third Oath of one of their most esteemed Justicars had been sworn to Commander Shepard. More so that Justicar Samara utterly believed in the quest Shepard was on. When asked if Samara believed the words of the Spectre about the Reapers, there was no diplomatic response that Samara 'believed that Shepard believed it' as Councilor Tevos had always responded. The Justicar said she absolutely believed Shepard's warnings. They were nought but true.
Councillor Tevos tried to deny Shepard's claims, saying the young human maiden was charismatic, heroic, vibrant and fevered; it was easy to fall to her passionate guile. Samara very coldly reminded the Councillor just who and what the Justicar was. To play such a dangerous game on the chance that young human was wrong was not a gamble worth taking.
If the Reapers were indeed simply phantoms of Prothean memories locked in Shepard's mind and the galaxy had made ready for a war at best they looked foolish. But if however Shepard was correct and the galaxy was not prepared to face this menace how much more dire would the consequences be? Err on the side of caution, it was better to be made ready and not need it, than to be caught up short when the lines were drawn.
The Collectors raged through the cosmos harvesting human lives for their masters with no more thought than the compulsion that drove the Ardat-Yakshi to hunt. But to what end? Who was next? The Collectors had already concocted a plague that had a hundred per cent rate of attrition.
To avoid seeing the great cities of Thessia razed to the ground by the Reapers or worlds like Illium glassed was it worth the risk of maybe looking foolish for listening to a very passionate and driven human maiden, one Samara added that was a Spectre.
Knowing how N7s were forged, Samara believed she was getting to know the young tenacious human woman more and more. Shepard would never ring that bell. She would fight the Reapers with every last breath in her body. Her course was righteous and true, so much so that Samara's oath to her extended not to the stopping the Collectors, but to the Reapers. Though Samara had yet to say this to Shepard, personally.
As of right now, in this moment the Collectors were the clear and present danger. But beyond them were the masters, they must be felled, the Code demanded no less of Samara. No less of any Justicar, they were uniting as one readying to face this coming threat. Their unification was more than enough for the Matriarchy to grow concerned that the public denial of what Sovereign truly was and the Council's active denial of Shepard's warnings was growing more costly. No one tempted a Justicar and lived. Making claims a Justicar's imaginations got the better of them, or they were on the brink of mental instability as the Council had done with Shepard, just to save face was not a viable option. It was a very good way to end up not just dead but very dead.
Samara shared time with the young woman guiding her through the meditations as she had once upon a time with her own daughters. Rila and Falere were always compliant and very competent in their skills and abilities as biotics.
But it was her eldest; Mirala who always pushed what her body was capable of, how deep within the self she could reach. Mirala was always the bravest, the smartest of her daughters. And yes Samara had favoured her. She didn't love her other two girls any less, but there was a special pride in Mirala.
She lost her beloved little girl, her daughter when the maiden had turned forty. A monster had taken her, took possession of her soul. And though that same daemon of the night winds touched Rila and Falere they had submitted to will of the Code. They went to Lesuss—to the Monastery. Mirala denied the Code, The Way of the Goddess and her infinite divinity and wisdom. Mirala had forsaken all to chase the hunger of the demon of the night winds. Samara's daughter died that day. Samara never forgave the monster that snatched her baby away, anymore than Samantha Shepard forgave those that assassinated her own babe.
The hurt and loss lingered in those expressive blue eyes, the same that lurked in Samara's. Morinth destroyed Mirala. and as Shepard had waged war on the merc guilds that took up the bounty against Liara so too had Samara taken to war—on the monster that brought low her child, her dear sweet brave Mirala.
There was another war waging in Shepard. One that was deep and extremely personal. The mother that still was a whisper in the old warrior's heart even after four centuries of neglect, reached out for this young maiden to be her guide. Perhaps it was the side of her that had never diminished, a side which in Samara was a mentor. That role came much easier to her than her maternal side. If she was being truthful to herself, Samara had never been that motherly or at least the sort that coddled their babes. Perhaps if she had been Mirala would have submitted to the Code and went to the Monastery rather than become a fugitive and forcing Samara to become a Justicar.
There was no room for sentimentality any more than there was room for curiosity in the life of a Justicar. Even still Samara could not deny a growing fondness for the human maiden and a deepening trust.
A trust so marrow deep that Samara knew without doubt she could rely upon the young woman with a deep and very personal dark secret. It was a trust that gave Samara the courage to ask for aid that only someone like Shepard was able to grant.
On the eve of their weekly meditations Shepard found Samara not sitting in her normal spot in the middle of the observation lounge but rather the matron was standing before the large bay widow. Her eyes hypnotized by the blue shift of the mass-effect corridor.
"Commander," Samara's voice took on a deep whisper. "I must ask for your help. That is not easy for me."
Shepard paused a moment before speaking but she kept walking until she was standing right beside her team-mate and friend. "It's all right just tell me what you need."
"When we met on Illium, I told you about a very dangerous person I was pursuing."
Shepard nodded. "I remember the ardat-yakshi. That Eclipse kid...Elnora said it was from an ancient asari dialect, something about demons and the night."
Samara inclined her head. "Yes. Demon of the night winds. Using the information you obtained I've located her. Actually I should say your bondmate did that. Dr. T'Soni is a very proficient information broker."
"She is that." there was no mistaking the pride in Shepard's voice at the mention of Liara's skills. "What did she get for you?"
"The fugitive is going by the name of Morinth. I would like to apprehend her before she disappears again."
"I can take it that Liara found her trail." It was not a question though Samara answered as though it was.
"Yes. I know I told you I would resume my hunt for her after our mission against the Collectors was concluded but I know where she is right now. In a month she may be gone. This is the best opportunity I ever had." there was hope and desperation in the Justicar's voice and the tiniest bit of resolution of a four century long hunt.
Shepard crossed her arms over her chest, her weight on her right foot that was slightly behind the left. "Where is she?"
"Omega. A nightclub Afterlife. Which seems like a perfect place for her to hunt."
Shepard let out a humourless dry chuckle. "Can't say I'm all that surprised your demon of the night winds running to Aria's domain. I take it this is important to you."
"This hunt has been the focus of my life for four hundred year's It is the most important thing in my life. And the reason I became a Justicar."
Shepard was intrigued. While Saren was the reason the Commander became a Spectre, this fugitive seemed to be far more than a rogue on a destructive run. Shepard sensed a very deep connection to Samara. Watching the older woman's body language Sam pressed on in her line of questioning. "Tell me about her."
The Spectre recalled what she had heard on Illium about the ardat-yakshi the two bigoted crones near the Nos Austra's Port Authority Office said they were a pureblood throwback. Elnora didn't even think they were real and Captain Wasea had called this fugitive a 'filthy creature'. Even Liara was leery of them and more than hesitant to speak of them as if the very mention of ardat-yakshi was disgraceful and as shameful as the term pureblood.
Shepard's curiosity was more than piqued and certainly wanted Samara's take on it.
"Ardat-yakshi ...its old world meaning is mythology. She is simply a very dangerous woman who kills without mercy." Samara said gravely.
"I get the feeling that ardat-yakshi is more than some deranged serial killer. They have something to do with pure-breeding, doesn't."
The surprise on Samara's face was paramount; she quickly turned her head away from the blue orbs of Shepard to her own reflection gazing back at her from the darkened window of the lounge. "Morinth suffers from a rare genetic disorder. When she mates with you there is no gentle melding the nervous systems. She overruns yours, burns it out, haemorrhages your brain. You end up a mindless shell, and soon after you are dead."
Shepard frowned. "Why isn't this ever mentioned in asari literature or art?" Humans had a great deal of art, and literature and more vids-sims and old fashioned cinema filled with monsters in the closet, vampires, succubae, fiendish mad-dog killers the list went on and on.
"When we were primitive, there was much fascination with ardat-yakshi. Some cultures worshiped them as gods of destruction. Now the asari have a place in the galaxy and we do not wish for this defect to be widely known. In recent history three ardat-yakshi have emerged with the most lethal form of the defect. Two chose a life of seclusion, the third ran."
"Morinth."
"She ran and I am sworn to kill her." the words were flat, cold—certain.
"Can't say I blame her for running." Shepard looked out at the void. "I would have too. Something passed to me through genes, something I have no control over. Back in the twentieth a villain did that to his country when he became their Führer. Hitler ordered that anyone with a disability, mental health sickness, genetic defects, homosexuals, be rounded up and placed into death camps. And that was way before he started in with an entire race of people; mainly Jews but also gypsies and political prisoners. What he did was a crime against all humanity being passed off as 'purifying' the human race. He was the monster, he and his whole regime, not those they placed in the camps.
"I would not tolerate being placed in one of those places. I'd rather die trying to be free than locked up because of my DNA. I don't care how poshed up it might be called today. A death camp is still a death camp." Shepard's voice became tinged with moral anger.
"The Monastery is not death camp, Samantha. It is an elysium not an asylum as others may believe. It is a place of healing, temperance and serenity. When Morinth ran she proved her addiction. She was not taking a great moral stance in example of your people's history. She simply wants to keep killing. She is a tragic figure not a sympathetic one."
Shepard closed her eyes trying to fathom just was an ardat-yakshi. A genetic defect that leads to compulsory killing...like alcoholism-the murder gene? She could not judge if she did not understand. Her earlier anger deflated, this was obviously something far deeper, far greater than being different...a freak of nature.
"Can't she abstain?" it was a contrite whisper.
The asari shook her head. "Each encounter gives her strength. The effect is a narcotic. The more she does it the more she needs to do it. She will never stop. She can't." Samara said in a voice of empty and detached more clinical and academic. As if she was in desperate need to divorce herself from the topic.
"So you hunt down these asari just because they are born with a genetic condition." Shepard's frown became deeper. Killed for something they could not control, not their fault. Even if it was an addictive-murder-gene it still sat wrong. Maybe she was being racist placing human morals and expecting them from another race that clearly was not human.
It was barely perceptible, but Shepard could have sworn that Samara flinched, no not a flinch, it was a wince like when you accidentally bite down on a cavity. Then in a fraction of the time it takes to blink the expression was gone.
"The condition manifests at maturity. When one is diagnosed she is offered a chance to live in a life of seclusion and comfort, if she refuses it shows her addiction to the ecstasy she gains when killing her mates. There is no redemption for such a person." the voice became chilling cold, resolved and unmoving.
It was the same tone of voice Samara used when she spoke of having to kill Detective Anaya and the cops in her precinct because of the demands of the Code forbade her incarceration for more than twenty-four hours by any authority.
"They have to choose prison or death." Shepard shook her head, what kind of choice was that? Her mind still churned over it like a clogged drain. Even if it was seclusion and comfort the Commander still could not take her mind away from the Nazis death-camps.
Samara saw the look of confusion and distaste reflecting deep in the human's azure eyes.
"It is an addictive condition. Remember how adaptive we are. If Morinth does not want to be cured she won't be."
"So it can be cured? This...condition...it's treatable?" there was hope in the question.
"It is controllable. With dedication and perseverance ardat-yakshi can control their conditions if they go to the monastery. While it is a cloister, the monastery is it is not wholly a prison, not like Purgatory at least not in the way you know of them. And as I have said before it is not a death camp.
"The ardat-yakshi live in dormitories not cells. Their 'guards' are priestesses who help them find peace in private meditations, toiling in gardens, orchards and vineyards. They tend the bee hives and work in the meadary and winery. They are given an education and even minor martial training.
"The compulsion to mate is always there but with diligence it can be controlled. With supervision some ardat-yakshi maybe allowed to visit Thessia, because all asari should know the homeworld. However only those who have proven suitable may be granted this privilege." Samara did not say that both her daughter Rila and Falere had been granted this privilege. In fact they were two of the most trusted inductees-model students the monastery had.
At the time of their visit to Thessia Samara was not on the homeworld to greet them, their childhood home was no longer in their family name as Samara had sold it when she went into Justicar training. It was the same day Samara had given up her family name as well. The matron was not jesting when she said she owned nothing save for a few weapons and her armour.
Samara continued "Morinth is different. She draws in her victims, confuses them, dominating them, her victims will do anything for her. Sacrifice anything for her, anything to her."
"This is definitely worthy of your full attention." Shepard looked out of the window watching the streaming stars streak by in white ribbons. "I'll help you stop her. I'll set a course for Omega."
"There are no words to express what this means to me." Samara reached out and placed a hand upon the young woman's arm. "There is one thing more. This creature...this monster, she is my daughter." the last word was self-condemnation.
Shepard froze. Daughter? Samara hunted her daughter for the past four centuries—meaning only to kill her? She turned slowly and retraced her steps so that once more she was she was standing beside the Justicar. "You said this is genetic...How many children do you have?" she felt like an ass for asking the question.
"Three. And there are three ardat-yakshi with the most lethal versions of the disorder. It is as it sounds. ...Morinth was always the brave one." Samara had a sad smile of nostalgic recollection. "She was happy and free but selfish."
"I..." Shepard started but stopped. Her mind flashed back to the day Secura was lost to her and Liara. In Shepard's arms was a tiny barely formed babe, her tiny blue body covered in her mother's blood. There was so much of it. Purple coated everything in a lilac-wash. A life snuffed out before it had a chance to live. "I can not fathom what to say. You know I lost my own child; her death lies at my feet. What you must feel Samara..."
"I don't want pity, Shepard. I do not accept it. My daughter's condition is my fault. And my redemption lies in killing her. Do not pity me; just try to understand my situation."
"How did all this happen?" Shepard asked rather than give any affirmation to the Justicar that she understood. She knew of course the asari took 'Sins of the daughter shall be visited upon the mother' very seriously a mother must answer for the actions of her children. With Samara there was no limit, no lengths she would not take to rectify Morinth's sins.
"I spent my youth on the move, adventuring." Samara said evenly not unlike Zaeed when he was he said 'waxing goddamm nostalgic' I've killed people, mated with them, or just danced the night away. I've learned so much, lived so much then my matron days came." her voice became softer than Shepard had ever heard it. "I could finally sit back and bask in my family. But in one moment it was all taken away. I sat in a med-lab while some doctor droned on and I learned nothing was as I thought it would be. I gave up all I that I possessed, I own nothing, claim nothing. All my knowledge will die with me. Now my purpose is to destroy my own children."
Shepard closed her eyes, that tiny life in her arms, all that blood and though it was not her shot that nearly cost Liara her life, it was because of Shepard she had been hunted It was because of her –the CS and the bond created by the gestalt and Sam's inability to monitor it that caused Secura to be lost.
"Those moments change you." The raven-haired human said dully.
"And I have hundreds of years left to live with that." Samara returned in a self-condemned tone.
And I have decades came Shepard unspoken thoughts, thoughts the Justicar must have sensed.
"I say too much, forgive me. Just help me find my long lost daughter-and kill her."
Shepard nodded hating that she had already pledged to do just that. But Morinth wasn't Secura. Morinth wasn't an innocent, not anymore. What was it that Samara called her? A tragic figure but not a sympathetic one. No the sympathetic ones were the daughters Samara had living in the monastery who had submitted to the law and sought treatment for their disorder.
"I gave you a promise Samara to help you track down and stop this killer. I keep my promises. It's not pity I have for you Samara. It's simply sorrow. You know I lost my own child; her death is on my hands more than it has ever been on the hands of the trigger men who were sent out to hunt my wife.
"No Code, no dedication to duty can ever erase the guilt we feel when we look into the empty eyes of the child we killed. You said your daughter is going by the name of Morinth, I know that is not the name you gave her at her birth.
"I don't need to know the one you uttered to her at night when you told her you would see her with the dawn. I don't need to know the name you cooed to her when she had nightmares and crawled into your arms to chase away the nightly terrors, or the name you spoke to urge ungainly feet to come to you when she first learned to walk. Or the name that melted your heart when she uttered in a drooly smile Nan for the first time. Or the pride you held for her bravery when she performed some daring feat.
"I know you buried that girl four hundred years ago. I buried my baby girl in space; her ashes are now mingling with stardust. I asked the Goddess Athame and the Spirits my ancestors worshiped to look after her soul. Secura, my Little Sparrow lives on in my heart. She always will even as Liara is now pregnant with our twins.
"I don't envy what you had to do to separate the memory your daughter from the monster she became. For the memory of that child you lost, I will help you, Samara. We'll stop Morinth. When she is ended we can commit her body to the stars if you wish. Maybe something of what is left of your daughter will return as it did with Matriarch Benezia."
Samara nodded and said no more, her eyes followed the star-stream once again. Before Shepard crossed the threshold she did not turn around, she could not at this moment look upon the woman she had held in high esteem. Instead she spoke to the empty hall before her, "Your other daughters the ones that submitted to the will of Code and went to this monastery did you bury them as you did your firstborn when they were diagnosed with this disorder? Or do they still have a mother who still loves them?" She didn't wait for an answer before she left.
When the door closed behind the Spectre, Samara felt her heart shatter just a little. Not for Mirala's memory certainly not for the creature now calling herself Morinth or even for the twins she had left at the monastery on Lesuss but for Samantha, for what must Samara had to ask of her. What memories might be dredged up and made manifest. She didn't accept nor want Shepard's pity because she didn't deserve it and the Code forbade it. There was no pity for carrying out one's duty, there was danger in curiosity, and there was failure in remorse. There is only the Code. It was cold, hard unyielding and ruthless and above all it was just.
And though the Code demanded she preclude any commitments to anything but the Code, it did not forbid romance or that she divorce the love in her heart for her children even though she must be separate from them.
"Yes, Commander, Falere and Rila still have a mother who loves them very much. Who is proud of them but I cannot be apart of their lives. Not now. Maybe upon my retirement if I live that long I can reclaim that honorific, but I can not truly ever be apart of their lives, again. Ardat-yakshi cannot live outside the monastery; they can not be permitted to become apostates. A Justicar can never permit it.
"As a Justicar I cannot be the mother to them I was when they were younglings, Shepard, that woman doesn't exist anymore. She died four hundred years ago when her best beloved firstborn ran and became a monstrous corruption of abhorrent existence. Falere and Rila have accepted it as have I."
Only the stars heard the confession. It would never be uttered again.
ME~ ME~ ME~ ME~ ME~ ME~ ME~ ME~ ME
"We're headed to back to Omega." Jack said crossing her legs at the ankle as they were stretched out before her on Miranda's bed, one arm folded behind her head pillowing it while the other held up an old fashioned dog-eared tattered copy of 'On the Road' by Jack Kerouac:
'You have absolutely no regard for anybody but yourself and you're damned kicks. All you think about is what's hanging between your legs and how much money or fun you can get out of people and then you just throw then aside. Not only that you're silly about it. It never occurs to you that life is serious and there are people trying to make something decent out of it instead of just goofing all the time.'
Jack had read the passage three or four times now. Each time she was trying hard not to think too hard about how much the words struck a chord with her, that they began to resonate with her. The convict couldn't help but wonder if they meant something to the owner of the book as it was underlined.
Jack didn't know what to make of Kasumi. The woman seemed to be all about the thrill of the heist, not just the take but the whole planning of it. The thrill of the planning, the thrill of job-how to make it come together and the escape those aspects appealed to the Japanese woman. Jack got that. But there was something...something off...like she was all feng shui. That Jack didn't get. Thing is the little thief didn't bother her much and that suited Jack just fine.
Another thing Jack didn't get was how come she found the Kerouac novel on the Cheerleader's bedside table. Guess Precious wanted some light reading, it was how she got a hold of Kasumi's ratty ol'book. Funny how Jack landed on the same page Cheerleader was reading. Fucking kismet or some shit.
Jack didn't want to think about that either. So she changed the way her head was taking her. "Word is that ol'Samara found her convict lurking around Aria's crib. Weren't you part of that chase going after that ship's name and all?"
Lawson looked over to the younger woman slightly perturbed that Jack hadn't taken off her boots before she plopped down on the mattress. Saying something about the carelessness would only exasperate Jack, which was something for the moment Miranda wanted to avoid. Their relationship was cordial for the moment and the operative wanted to keep it that way.
"I was."
"Took out some big-shot blue."
"Captain Wasea of the Eclipse Sisters." Lawson said. "She challenged Shepard but it was Garrus that took the final shot."
"So that's why the Queen of the Girls Scouts calls Cat Face her Archangel."
"Pretty much, I think it's a little deeper than that. Other than Liara I don't think Shepard trusts anyone more than she does Garrus."
Good way to end up dead, you trust someone like that, to let people get that close...
It never occurs to you that life is serious and there are people trying to make something decent out of it instead of just goofing all the time.'
Jack turned to the Cheerleader and saw the same weariness reflected in those gray eyes. She saw something else very familiar because she saw it in her own reflection, envy. Envy that the fucking QotGS had someone she trusted so completely, fully and knew without any doubt Garrus wouldn't ever turn on her. Dog-legs wouldn't turn, Blue sure as hell wouldn't. And fuck her silly but Jack knew she'd never turn on the Queen of the Girl Scouts either because Shepard would never turn on her. It felt fucking weird to trust someone like that. Jack didn't know what the hell to do with that sorta thing. Damn Shepard.
And it was all kinds of fucking wrong for what was brewing between Jack and the Cheerleader. The ex-con pushed that aside too. The bitch was hot, nice rack, the perfect ass yeah totally fuckable. Ain't nothing wrong getting a little wet over what's there. Jack saw something else familiar in those grey eyes too, Cheerleader liked bad-girls, even if she ain't said nothin, it was all there.
"Think she trusts Dog-Legs—no questions." Jack said ignoring her hind-brain's lusting.
"Tali is ..." Mirada hesitated; her mind flung itself to Oriana. To their new connection, a connection created because of Shepard. "... more of a little sister to Shepard than a subordinate if I understand their relationship correctly. Since meeting the young woman, Shepard's been a champion of the quarian people or at least their young ones that run afoul on their Pilgrimages."
"Yeah, well Shepard's a dumbass trusting peeps like that. Take that bitch on Horizon. Wasn't she like supposed to be close to our Commander and all a sudden she goes and flips on her. You trust that deeply you're gonna get burned."
Miranda nodded in complete agreement Shepard trusted her crew- those she called friend too easily. Was it any wonder Williams had the Commander's head spinning, looping back on and on itself, eating itself over guilt that didn't belong to her. Shepard was doing what was necessary to save the lost. Williams was too tied up in the past to see the truth of the real mission- which was to save the colonies from being harvested by the Collectors.
Miranda found herself surging and she could not if asked later if her next words were meant for Jack, Shepard or for Lawson herself. "Perhaps there is some bankable qualities to the Commander's methods. She seems to have gathered the loyalty of many on the crew."
"That include you Cheerleader?"
Miranda smiled coyly. "You first."
"Got no beef with the Queen of the Girl Scouts. And maybe she gets your boy Kerouac; yah know...being all serious about life because she sure as hell has a hard-on for trying to make something decent out of it. Take us zipping off to Omega to catch this so-called badass crazy asari bitch that's some sort of night-wind-demon or some shit. Why? Cuz Samara asked her to. That's it. Shepard ain't getting anything out of it save maybe that stupid warm-gut feeling of doing a good fucking deed by offing some asari serial killer.
"Now you Cheerleader, you trading up loyalties? You do and TIMmy ain't gonna like it."
Miranda stayed mute for so long that Jack turned to check on the brunette. There as nothing on that perfectly portioned face to give anything away of what was on her mind. It intrigued the ex-con enough for her to sit up, drop her legs to the floor and take a second look.
"Holy fuck! You are thinking of trading up, ain't ya? The Bastard for the Queen!"
Lawson only realized she was scratching her left collarbone when she dropped her hand. Goddamn tell! Still she said nothing but she did not remain still. "You and I both know how Shepard works. She wants us to be a united band, a real team of comrades."
"No shit eh? Fuck she wants us to be friends—all buddy buddies. Thing is that's not gonna work with this crew. That old goat Zaeed, Grunt, that little thief, and two hard-cold killers like Samara and Thane we'll never be the 'family' Shepard is trying to make out of us. You, me we're nothing like Dog-Legs or Cat-Face and we sure as hell not like Williams, we're more honest than that cunt in how we stand with Shepard once more she knows it too. Makes us more trustworthy."
Miranda's lips pulled back into a smile. "To her or to each other? Because if it comes to you, I don't trust you."
"Smart, because as I sure as hell don't trust you, Cheerleader. You're still too hot for your Boss."
"And you're far too unpredictable."
Jack smiled like she was given the greatest of compliments. "Being predictable gets you killed. Hell even Shepard knows that. Why you think most of her crazy 'I got an idea' plans are never planned out. She knows being unpredictable keeps her alive and how come she's so good at what she does."
"Are you comparing yourself to Shepard?"
"Nope, just saying you don't mind the unpredictable when it's all wrapped up in N7 armor."
The dark haired woman smiled softly. "To tell you the truth, I didn't trust her. I didn't believe she was up to the task that The Illusive Man placed her on. When she had my sister, I was in a rage. Shepard had only taken her to get to me, to flush me out. And she only wanted me because of my closeness to my boss. And even though I knew Oriana was safe, that she would never be harmed by Shepard, I wanted nothing more to make the Commander fall."
Jack listened to the narration. She had heard bits and pieced of how Shepard got Lawson, how she used the kid to get the Cheerleader to come to her and turn herself in. Shepard used some sort of Cerberus monster flick to turn the kid, to turn Lawson against TIMmy. But Jack still didn't know a lot of the details.
"Shepard wanted me to second-guess everything Cerberus has ever done by using some of Cerberus's more covert tactics—to be on the other side of it." Lawson said this quietly.
Jack felt her ire rise not against Shepard for taking the Cheerleader's little sister but for the admittance that Cerberus abducted kids. Using them as tool, as bargaining chips against a target to make them do something they sure as hell didn't want to do. But seeming the look in those grey-eyes, the pain there the remorse the ex-con felt her rage wither. She couldn't be pissed at Lawson for this.
"Doesn't taste good does it?" the tattooed woman finally said. "Being baited like that"
"No."
"Funny...I was baited more than a few times by your fucking group just so they could recapture me, their precious Subject Zero. Made sure my rap-sheet made it to that fucking skull-face Warden Kuril who ran Purgatory. Got his Blue Sun goon-squad after me. Went into the fucking Cerberus facility to blow the shit out of it only to find it full of biotic kids, …they were called students. But I knew the truth, they were subjects and your people were doing experiments on them. Wanting a more powerful biotic but ones loyal to the Cerberus to fucking TIM..
"Got there not only were those turian fuckers there but two assholes from Cerberus were there to take me in. Some wiry shit with a sword and a dark-haired cunt." She got a gleeful little smile. "Sent him flying when he thought he could do some ninja shit on me." she laughed. "Wish he had. The asshole has more lives than a fucking cat."
"Kai Leng." Miranda said the name was if were the foulest syllable ever conceived by man. "You know he was a former N7."
"Like Shepard."
"Skills like hers yes. All that training she had, he has. Like Shepard he's a survivor. He was classified as a Shadow-good with tech and melee skills. Prefers his blade over guns, just like Kasumi. Like you said wiry and as deadly as Thane. I'm surprised you got the jump on him." Lawson smirked. "Can't say I'm sorry you did. Though admittedly, I do wish you had managed to eliminate the bastard."
Jack was surprised to hear this admission and more than a little pleased. "You do?"
"I absolutely despise the man. But he seems to be Mr. Illusive's golden-boy. Even though he befouled the mission with Grayson, and was caught short by Councilor Anderson when he went after a bunch of biotic kids at an Alliance institute. He is still an asset to the Illusive Man. A highly valued one"
"Wait a minute...Anderson as in Shepard's Anderson?"
"The same."
"So a retired N7 drops a fallen N7."
"Something like that." Miranda nodded her dark locks. "But Leng lived even if he had both knees shot out. We see it in Shepard there's something special in those chosen to be N7s. They live by wits, a particular set skills and instincts and above all an unwavering tenacious perseverance."
"You respect this Leng fucker?"
"I respect what he can do, as for the man himself...as I said Jack I wished you actually had killed the cur."
"No love in the family?"
"My sister is my only family, Jack. For her I'd do anything."
Jack heard those rumors to. The only reason Lawson became a Cerberus Cheerleader was not for humanity, not because she was xenophobic but for little baby sister. And somewhere along the way she ended up drinking the Kool-Aid. A true believer in the rhetoric Mr. Illusive spewed out.
"Yeah? But now that the Queen of the Girl Scouts got your Oriana out safe and shit with her family, the one you gave her too. You don't owe Cerberus for shit. Admit it Miri if you wanna do good for humanity why not just become a permanent member of Shepard's crew? She just asks us to work as real team not for your soul. You fuck up on her team you don't get 'liquidated.'"
"Are you recruiting for Team-Shepard now?" Miranda smirked ironically.
"Nah, I don't do warm-fuzzy girly-girl tea-parties."
"Of all the things I can say about Shepard being a girly-girl isn't one of them."
"Is that you like? Girly-girls, or you like 'em tough-take-no-shit. If you're into the femmies I'm sure Red will spread 'em for you."
Miranda rolled her eyes, she knew Jack was toying with her, trying to wind her up, more predictably because it was getting a little too soft for her. "Chambers isn't my type. Far from it."
Jack let out a dry knowing chuckle. "And what is your type?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Jack got closer to Lawson. "Cuz I'm asking."
Miranda couldn't stop looking at the fullness of Jack's bottom lip. When it touched her own she jumped but did not pull away. To her own surprise she pushed into the kiss. She wanted it. She deepened it wresting control over their passions with the younger woman. Jack wasn't going to give in or up, she was not the submissive type. She pushed Miranda back towards the bed the ex-con had only just vacated. Lawson hands went to Jack's bony hips pulling her in, mashing their bodies together, when the back of her knees hit the mattress Jack landed on top of her.
"You want what comes next Cheerleader?" Jack straddled the brunette her breasts pushing up against Miranda's, her lips inches close to the other woman's.
"My bed, I'm on top." came the answer.