Chapter 7

"Good morning, Commander. "

Shepard groaned as his eyes slowly fluttered open. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

"What time is it, EDI?" Shepard asked groggily as he fumbled beside his bedside for something to wet his tongue. His hand closed around something smooth and cool and he instinctively poured the nearly-empty bottle's contents into a glass and tilted it into his mouth. He winced at the burning sensation of the scotch trickling down his throat. Why don't I keep anything non-alcoholic around here?

"It is currently 0800 hours, Omega time."

I thought we'd have a few more hours until we arrived. Either the mass relay system had gotten faster or he was still adjusting to his reconstructed body. I'm guessing it's the latter. His muscles screamed in protest as he pulled himself out of bed and padded towards the shower. The aching muscles were nothing new. Synthetically enhanced muscles allowed him to run down a gazelle and even wrestle a gorilla with a decent chance of not being torn in half but they had drawbacks. The most annoying at the moment was that they took longer to warm up than the OEM version.

"It won't affect muscular performance, but it will result in some slight discomfort at times," the skinny tech at Arcturus station had assured him before his surgery. Slight discomfort... little bastard's lucky he's half a galaxy away right now.

Shepard stripped off his boxers and stepped into the shower. As the first droplets of water touched his skin, his brain finally processed EDI's answer to his question. He frowned.

"Wait... did you say 0800, EDI? I thought I told you to wake me if I slept in past 0500."

"Operative Lawson thought it would be best if you were allowed to catch up on a few extra hours of sleep," EDI's disconcertingly calm voice answered. Sonova... Shepard couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in past 5am. It should have been a minor annoyance but the daily routine of waking up early, warming up his extensively-modified musculature with a brisk workout, then powering through a mound of paperwork before breakfast was so ingrained in him that having it disrupted was intensely irritating.

Quickly finishing his shower, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. To his pleasant surprise, it smelled fresh. Fresh linens... what's next? Mints under the pillows? Rummaging around the cabinet beside the sink, he found a razor but no shaving cream. Guess they didn't think of everything.

"EDI, what's on my schedule for today?"

"Operative Lawson requested a meeting in her office as soon as you awoke. Engineer Donnelly has something he wishes to discuss before our arrival at Omega. Cerberus Command would like..."

"That'll be all, EDI."

Shepard finished towelling off and tossed the towel in a hatch he hoped was the laundry chute.

As he stepped out of the washroom, he belatedly remembered he hadn't removed the surveillance device from the captain's quarters. He smirked, imagining how uncomfortable Miranda would be watching him strutting around the room in the nude. Grabbing some clothes off the floor, he dressed and headed for the lift.

"EDI, inform Ms. Lawson I'll be right down."

Miranda glanced at the clock mounted on the wall above her desk and sighed. It was a shame she'd had to break their undeclared truce, but if their mission was to succeed, she had to be able to control him and influence him, preferably without his fully being aware of it. To do that she needed to find out what buttons she could push. Tampering with Shepard's sleep patterns had been a part of those efforts. Maybe it worked a little too well. Miranda had expected her provocation to provoke a response, but she hadn't expected him to react like a petulant child.

She called up the Normandy's internal surveillance system on her monitor. Shepard was in the cargo hold beating on a training mech in what she hoped was the last part of his workout. Thickly corded arms propelled his fists repeatedly into the hapless machine, its servos whining as it struggled to recover from blows that would have hospitalized an organic being.

Despite her annoyance, she couldn't help but be impressed. The readings from the biometric monitors showed the former Spectre was hitting with at least three times the force of a normal human with each punch. She had expected Shepard to be stronger than the average man because of his physical augmentations but not to such a degree. Seems the Alliance is willing to break its own restrictions on bioengineering when it's convenient. What a surprise. Miranda's extensive research into Shepard's previous history as a black ops operative had quickly revealed that the Alliance was often guilty of the exact same excesses it so often accused Cerberus of. Hypocrites.

Her door beeped.

"Come," she called out, turning her attention from Shepard.

"The Normandy's just come out of low emissions mode and our registration says we're a turian freighter operating out of the Fathar system. Joker says he should be able to maintain a flight profile to match our cover - at least until we can lose ourselves in the traffic going in and out of Omega," Jacob said, handing her a dataslate. Miranda glanced at it and set it aside to read in more detail later. She doubted anybody outside of Cerberus was even aware of either Shepard's resurrection or the new Normandy's existence but she still wanted to keep a low profile. Can't be too careful.

"Where's Shepard? I thought he was supposed to meet you for a briefing."

Miranda tilted her head towards her monitor. Jacob leaned over her desk for a better angle and whistled in admiration.

"We heard some of the guys in the other programs were getting juiced with illegal tech but I always thought they were just stories. Why didn't we ever notice this while we were rebuilding him? Wouldn't those augmentations have been destroyed when the Collectors took him out?"

Miranda shrugged. Actually, we did notice it but details on the reconstruction were disseminated on a need-to-know basis only. Sorry Jacob.

"We re-implanted synthetic reinforcing fibres into major muscle groups because they were there before the Collector attack. The increased muscle density is likely the result of genetic engineering rather than simple enhancement of existing tissue as we initially believed," she lied.

Jacob frowned for a moment, trying to understand Miranda's hypothesis.

"You're saying the Alliance rewired his genes to turn him into the Incredible Hulk?"

Miranda smiled at Jacob's allusion. She'd accidentally discovered his fondness for comic books when a shipment of them had been mistakenly delivered to her when Jacob first started officially working for Cerberus. It still struck her as an odd pastime for the handsome, athletic ex-Alliance marine. Jacob looked more like a professional athlete than a comic book geek.

"Minus the green pigmentation and comically bloated physical appearance, yes."

Jacob chuckled and turned to leave.

"Then let's hope we haven't done anything to piss him off."

Shepard glanced at his chrono and smiled smugly as he walked out of the lift. 1000 hours. Two hours after he'd informed EDI he was going to see Miranda. Feeling much more relaxed after his workout, he walked over to the ship's mess and grabbed a tray.

"What's on the menu today, Rupert?"

Mess Sergeant Gardner snorted.

"Same as yesterday. Chef's surprise. Until I get some better ingredients, that's what's going to be on the menu tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and the day after that," Gardner responded, subtly reminding Shepard of his earlier request to visit the Citadel for better provisions.

Shepard's stomach growled. I'm so sick of chef's surprise. "Just give me a half dozen reconstituted protein bars then."

Gardner looked at Shepard as if the latter had just sprouted horns. Each ration bar contained a thousand calories, a quarter of the recommended daily caloric intake for an Alliance Marine. Most ration bars tasted more like cardboard than anything that could be called food but Shepard was famished, another of the unpleasant side effects of his augmented body.

"What flavour? Beef or... beef?"

"Surprise me."

Tearing one package open with his teeth, Shepard ravenously devoured the brownish bar contained within as he nonchalantly walked into Miranda's office, not bothering to knock or buzz first.

Miranda pointedly glanced at the clock in annoyance as he entered but he ignored her.

"Had a good workout?" she asked with mock politeness.

"I would have gotten here sooner, but for some reason I slept in. Somebody reset my alarm," Shepard answered with an innocent smile. The smile disappeared as he continued, "I don't usually sleep past five and I don't normally need an alarm to wake me up. What'd you do? Drug my food?"

The Cerberus agent didn't flinch at the accusation.

"Nothing so dramatic. I lowered the oxygen level in your quarters slightly. You haven't been getting enough rest and it's my responsibility to ensure your wellbeing, even if you don't consider it yours," she scoffed.

Shepard leaned against her door frame and crossed his arms.

"You weren't worried about inducing hypoxia?"

Miranda turned off her console and leaned forward with her elbows on her desk, her chin resting against the back of her hands.

"Commander, I have master's degrees in xenobiology and human physiology as well as a doctorate in bioengineering. This is in addition to a degree in medicine I earned from the University of Sydney at the age of seventeen. If I were to induce hypoxia in you, it wouldn't be by accident." She was speaking slowly and deliberately, deep blue eyes locked on his, her tone like that of a patient teacher dealing with a particularly slow student. "You've been having trouble sleeping since your... recovery. Perhaps you should requisition some sleeping aids from the infirmary."

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "I don't self-medicate," he shot back. He instantly regretted his response as he realized Miranda had probably seen him consume the half bottle of scotch before turning in the previous night. Fortunately, she passed on the chance to call him on it, the faint glimmer of a smirk at the corners of her mouth the only hint she had caught his gaffe. Damnit.

"It was only a suggestion, Commander."

Miranda handed Shepard the dataslate Jacob had given her a half hour earlier.

"We're scheduled to arrive at Omega in six hours. I took the liberty of arranging for a covert approach, seeing as you were indisposed." Shepard bristled but she continued, barely acknowledging his irritation with a smile. "But I thought you might want to review the final details."

Shepard gave the dataslate a cursory glance before tossing it back on Miranda's desk, allowing it to clatter loudly on the smooth surface. You could have sent this to my PDA. Why am I really here?

"You didn't call me here just to tell me you'd already done my job for me while I was knocked out," Shepard stated bluntly. Miranda's cheeks flushed as she unconsciously brushed a strand of silky brown hair out of her face and furrowed her brow. She bit her lower lip for a moment, seeming to be searching for the right words.

"We lost track of our targets. Our intel wasn't as... reliable as I'd previously believed," Miranda finally admitted.

"Both of them?" Shepard asked unnecessarily, enjoying Miranda's discomfort. "Archangel I can understand, but the salarian was supposed to be running some sort of clinic in the slums. How hard could it be to track him down?"

Miranda glared at him but chose to pretend his questions were innocuous.

"Shortly after we were given a lead on Professor Solus' whereabouts by an informant, the slum we were directed to was obliterated with some sort of tactical nuclear weapon by the Blue Suns mercenary group."

"So... Professor Solus is dead?" Shepard said slowly, processing the implications of what Miranda had just told him.

"We'd better hope not because..."

Shepard finished her sentence for her. "Professor Solus was the only freelance scientist in the Terminus systems with the expertise to develop a countermeasure to the Seeker swarms."

"I'm glad to see you read at least some of the briefings I send you." Miranda smiled wanly. "Omega has been particularly chaotic and anarchic as of late, even more so than usual. Many of Cerberus' usual sources of information have gone quiet. Most of our informants are either in hiding or on the run."

"Or more likely dead," Shepard added pointedly. Miranda nodded sombrely.

"According to your file, you ran a number of deep cover surveillance operations on Omega during your time with the Alliance. I was hoping you might still have contacts we could use. I admit it's a long shot given that that was five years ago, but..."

Christ... is there any part of my career Cerberus doesn't know about? Shepard thought back for a moment and smiled.

"I know someone who I think could help. She owes me a favour anyways and I think it's time I collected."

"Aria T'Loak? What part of 'covert approach' did you not understand, Commander?"

Getting into the Afterlife nightclub, Aria's unofficial seat of power on Omega, hadn't been easy but given a choice between a two thousand credit 'tip' or having unspeakable acts of violence inflicted on his person, a turian bouncer wisely chose the former and allowed them in through a back door.

"What?" Shepard shouted back, cupping his hand behind his ear, trying to hear what she was saying over the loud, thumping music.

"I said you're an insufferably stubborn idiot who wouldn't understand the meaning of subtlety if it hit you in the face!" Miranda smiled. The pounding bass of the music was like nails on a chalkboard to Miranda's refined tastes and it felt good in a juvenile way to get in a shot at Shepard when he couldn't respond.

Shepard shrugged and continued making his way through the crowd towards the elevated dais from which Aria looked down, literally and metaphorically, upon the great seething masses below.

Pushing their way towards the back of the club, Miranda was well aware of the number of eyes watching her. As an attractive woman, she knew very well the attention her appearance drew. Here on Omega, where humans were relative newcomers, the leering, groping, and catcalls were even worse than usual. Humans, particularly attractive females, were new and exciting to alien fetishists and sexual deviants and there was no shortage of those on Omega. No matter how many times she had been forced to visit Omega, she always shuddered at the stories of young women disappearing in clubs like Afterlife, kidnapped by slavers to live out the rest of their lives serving in nightmarish alien brothels – and that was if they were lucky.

This time however, the watching eyes seemed content simply to leer and the catcalls were kept to a minimum. The combat shotgun Jacob had clipped to his belt and the heavy assault rifle Shepard wore on his back likely had something to do with that.

An overfriendly nightclub patron, probably too drunk to notice her heavily armed companions, placed a clawed hand on her butt.

"Mmm... why don't you come over here and keep me company for a while, sweetcheeks?"

Miranda was about to teach the owner of the claw about the consequences of harassing a combat-trained biotic when she felt a human hand on her hip, steering her away. To her surprise, the hand belonged to Shepard. The ex-Spectre fixed a spine-chilling glare on the batarian, his cold grey eyes hard and unblinking.

"She's with me."

"For now," the batarian sneered lecherously. With his right hand still wrapped protectively around Miranda's waist, Shepard grabbed the batarian by the collar with his left and slammed his head into the alien's face with a vicious headbutt. The batarian crumbled to the floor, shrieking and grabbing at his shattered nose. Finally releasing his hold on Miranda's hip, Shepard nudged the crumpled alien with the toe of his boot and spoke a few words in batarian. He tilted his head to the right as he did so, a gesture she recognized as an insult in batarian culture.

"Don't get up if you want to walk out of here with your kneecaps intact," Miranda translated to Jacob. He's more fluent in batarian than the Lazarus intel suggested. The batarian whimpered and nodded weakly. Miranda struggled to suppress a smile as they finally reached the base of the stairs leading up to Aria's dais. She was used to fending off unwelcome advances but... It's nice to have someone else do it once in a while.

"You were never one who could resist causing a commotion, John. Still obsessed with being the centre of attention?"

Miranda was speechless for a brief moment as she first laid eyes on Aria T'Loak, the so-called "pirate queen of Omega". She's even more beautiful in the flesh than in the vids. Wait... did she call him John?Miranda wondered just how intimate Shepard's connection to the asari crimeboss really was given that they were apparently on a first name basis. Maybe I don't want to know.

"Pot. Kettle. Black," Shepard muttered in response.

Aria arched an eyebrow, unfamiliar with the expression. Shepard shrugged. "Human idiom, don't worry about it."

A batarian bodyguard, much better armed and heavier set than the one Shepard had so easily dispatched by the bar, produced a portable scanning device.

"Stand still," he grunted. Miranda was about to surrender her hand cannon but the batarian moved right past her and began sweeping it over Shepard. Shepard unclipped a pistol from his belt and flicked the safety switch on and off a few times before holstering it again.

"If you're scanning for weapons, you're not doing a great job."

Aria shook her head and momentarily turned to look over the crowded dance floor below.

"DNA scanner. Can't be too careful with dead Spectres. That could be anybody wearing your face."

The scanner beeped and the batarian nodded up at Aria to indicate he was done.

"Satisfied?" Shepard asked. Aria smiled. Miranda felt a slight shiver go up her spine. She looks like a cat eyeing a canary.

"For now." Aria gestured them towards the overstuffed varren-leather loungers beside hers. As he sat down, Miranda noticed how tense Jacob looked, eyes constantly scanning his surroundings, his every muscle coiled and his left hand resting on the butt of his folded shotgun, as if he was expecting to be jumped at any moment. You were never much good at masking your feelings, Jacob.

Shepard was the complete opposite. His athletic frame looked relaxed, with one leg resting across the other, arms draped across the back of his lounger, his hands far from his weapons. If this is an ambush, we're already dead and he knows it. Nonetheless, Miranda's survival instincts, honed by years of cloak-and-dagger work, directed her mind to unconsciously begin picking out possible escape routes.

"So, what brings you to my little queendom?"

"I'm looking for two individuals: a turian vigilante who goes by the name 'Archangel' and a salarian doctor, Mordin Solus."

A scantily-clad asari dancer came over with a tray of drinks and set them down on the table. Concealed in the flimsy fabric under her left arm, Miranda could barely see the outline of a small pistol. Seems things haven't changed since I was last here. Everyone's armed on Omega.

"Nothing is free on Omega, especially not information. You know that, John," Aria said, picking up one of the drinks from the tray and taking a sip.

"Cerberus can have funds transferred to you directly," Jacob offered. Miranda admonished Jacob with an icy glare for revealing their affiliation. Never offer your opponent any information they didn't have before. Aria looked at him in surprise, as if she had forgotten he was there, then threw back her head and laughed.

"It's not a matter of credits. The Commander has... a special skill set I wish to make use of again."

The asari looked strangely at Shepard as she spoke. Miranda arched an eyebrow. So that's how he knows Aria.

"It's not what you're thinking either, Lawson. If it was, this would be a lot easier," Shepard growled, as if he was reading Miranda's mind. He turned back to Aria. "I'm not here to play games, Aria. I'm here to call in a favour, not barter."

"And what favour would that be?"

Shepard rose to his feet and leaned over Aria until their faces almost touched.

"Remember the stolen data from that incident with the Alliance diplomats?" Aria's eyes narrowed as soon as the word left Shepard's lips. Shepard continued. "Those files you wanted gone aren't gone forever. You didn't really think I'd just destroy something that potentially valuable without making a copy for myself, did you?"

Aria's mouth curled into a cruel smile.

"What's to stop me from killing you and erasing those files permanently this time?"

As if on cue, Aria's bodyguards suddenly all drew their weapons. On reflex, Miranda drew hers and pointed it at the nearest guard, a heavily tattooed human. Ten on three. They'll cut us down before we can even make a dent in their barriers.

Shepard didn't even flinch at the hand cannon being pointed in his face by the big batarian who had scanned him earlier.

"Because you don't know where I've stored them or whether I've set up something to send the data to someone who can use it in the event of my death."

High stakes Shepard, I hope you know what you're doing.

Augmented muscles suddenly firing into action, Shepard ducked under the barrel of the batarian's hand cannon and grabbed the alien's wrist in one hand while ramming his opposite arm into the bodyguard's elbow, snapping the joint like a toothpick. The batarian howled in agony. Before the other guards could react, Shepard had the firearm pressed against the bottom of Aria's jaw, too close for her kinetic barriers to stop the round if he pulled the trigger.

"And because you know somebody with my 'special skillset' could do a lot of damage before your guards finally put me down."

Miranda cursed Shepard's impulsiveness as she began to focus her biotic abilities. Maybe if that idiot can stall them for a few more seconds, I can fire off a singularity as a distraction to get us out of here.

"This is why I like dealing with you, Shepard. You're direct and you always get right to the point." Aria nodded to her bodyguards and they all stepped back, holstering their weapons as they did so.

Shepard ejected the thermal clip from his borrowed hand cannon and discarded the weapon, stepping over its previous owner's body to return to his seat.

"Very well, I'll tell you what you want to know. For old time's sake," Aria said, the seductive smile returning to her face. Shepard smiled thinly back and took a glass from the tray, tipping it to the asari. "For old time's sake."