Chapter 10
Miranda wiped a bead of sweat from her face with the back of her forearm as she stepped off the treadmill. It felt good to finally get out of her office and stretch her limbs. She didn't quite have the dedication soldiers like Shepard or Jacob did, both of them religiously getting up at the same time every day to work out, but she normally tried to fit a few hours in the gym into her weekly schedule. Physical exercise wasn't strictly necessary for her to stay in shape – one of the many benefits of her genetic enhancements – but she found it helped her clear her head and allow her to better focus on other tasks. Like dealing with the aftermath of the debacle on Korlus.
Going after the krogan scientist Okeer had been her idea. Shepard had wanted to go after more candidates to fill out his ad hoc squad. She had argued that Okeer might have valuable intel on the Collectors – intel that Mordin and Cerberus would need time to process. The renegade krogan warlord's experience with genetics and bioweapons could also aid Mordin in his efforts to develop a countermeasure against the Collectors' seeker swarms. Shepard had deferred to her judgment. Whether it was an attempt to make up for his questionable decision to recruit Jack over her objections or because genuinely bought her arguments, she wasn't sure. I guess it doesn't matter now.
The mission had been a disaster. They'd been ambushed by the Blue Suns as soon as their shuttle entered the atmosphere, forced to crash land far from their objective. If it hadn't been for Shepard's extensive experience in covert infiltration, they might never have made it past the Blue Suns mercenaries and cloned krogan tearing each apart to the facility Okeer was operating at – where they'd quickly discovered Okeer was even more deranged than the rumours about him had said. Worse, not only had Okeer had no useful intel to share, what little data and technology he'd gotten from the Collectors he'd thrown into one last 'perfect' prototype. They hadn't even had the chance to haul Okeer back to the Normandy for a proper interrogation – he'd stupidly gotten himself killed in a foolish attempt to save his prototype. And now we're left with nothing. Well, that's not exactly true. The prototype, or 'paperweight' as Shepard kept referring to it, was now sitting in one of the Normandy's cargo bays. Maybe one of Cerberus' scientific divisions will be able to get something out of it. Live krogan specimens were rare, the obvious reason being attempting to capture a live krogan was an excellent way to have every bone in your body broken. This one was genetically perfect – a rarity in krogan since usually the genophage caused all sorts of junk to build up in their DNA - and had been 'grown' with Collector technology. Hopefully we'll get something we can use.
Two crewmen entered the exercise room. Miranda smiled in acknowledgment and they returned the greeting with mumbled words and awkward smiles of their own. Neither of them made eye contact. Miranda sighed inwardly as she disappeared into the women's showers. Her father's gift of physical beauty was a double-edged sword, like all the other enhancements he'd bestowed upon her. While being gifted with a face and body that could put a supermodel to shame could be a great advantage in certain situations, it also set her apart. Men were easily distracted by her looks and she could often sense the jealousy of other women. Many people of both sexes assumed she'd gotten to where she was because of her looks. She gritted her teeth as she disrobed and stepped into a shower stall. Even now there were many who believed she'd only gained her prominent position within Cerberus because the Illusive Man's tastes tended towards tall, long-legged, and curvy. Maybe Shepard's disinterest isn't such a bad thing.
She turned on the shower and closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the sensation of the warm water splashing over her skin, the heat acting as a salve for her aching muscles.
"Operative Lawson,"EDI's voice pulled her out of her too-brief escape. "Cargo Bay 2's containment has been breached."
It took a few seconds for Miranda to realize what EDI was talking about. Bay 2. Where the prototype's being stored. The bay had been sealed and an armed guard placed at the door. Only she had access… but as the Normandy's commanding officer, Shepard had executive override codes. Shepard. You. Idiot.
"What happened?" Miranda demanded, narrowing her eyes as she stormed out of the lift, footsteps echoing loudly on the metal deck.
Like the two crewmen in the exercise room, Crewman Thomas was doing his best to avoid eye contact with her but for entirely different reasons.
"Commander Shepard said he was just going in to make sure the tank was properly secured, ma'am," Thomas said quickly. "Next thing I knew, he was deactivating the containment barrier."
"And you didn't try to stop him?" Miranda asked suspiciously.
"He's… Commander Shepard, ma'am," Thomas offered, as if that was an adequate defence for his stupidity.
"I left orders that no one was to be allowed into Cargo Bay 2 without my permission. Do you remember that conversation, Thomas?"
The expression on the big ex-Alliance Marine's face told her he badly wanted to be somewhere else at the moment.
"Y-yes, but…"
Ignoring Thomas, Miranda punched her access code into the console on the door but it didn't budge.
"Open this door, EDI."
"I can't do that, Operative Lawson. Commander Shepard has disabled access through the door to Cargo Bay 2."
"Well, re-enable it then," Miranda ordered.
"I lack the capabilities necessary to comply with that request."
"What do you mean you 'lack the necessary capabilities'? How did Shepard disable the door?" Miranda asked incredulously. Unless Shepard was some sort of hacking genius, there was no way he should have been able to reprogram an access code to lockout a fully-sentient AI.
"He shorted out the servo motors in the door with an electrospanner."
Miranda slammed her fist against the inoperative door angrily. The bastard knew I'd stop him if he tried to access the tank. She thought they'd agreed earlier that the risks of unleashing Okeer's 'perfect' krogan were too great for them to try opening the tank on the Normandy. Stabbing the intercom button to Cargo Bay 2, she pounded on the window overlooking the main cargo deck to get Shepard's attention.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Shepard?"
Shepard appeared at the window directly across from her.
"Checking out our latest piece of salvage."
"It's not a 'piece of salvage', you thick-skulled idiot! It's a full grown krogan warrior that's likely already been implanted with everything it needs to know to tear you limb from limb!" Miranda shouted into the intercom.
"Which makes it perfect to fill the heavy assault role in our little ragtag band of misfits," Shepard answered without a hint of humour on his face. He's actually serious. He's actually going to open the tank.
"At least wait until we can reach a secure Cerberus facility like we agreed," Miranda pleaded. I didn't pour two years of my life into putting you back together, just to have to do it over again when an enraged krogan tears off your arms and beats you to death with them!
"What? And have Cerberus take him into their custody so they can cut him up and study him in another one of your twisted little experiments?" Shepard walked over to the tank and ran his hand over its glass surface but thankfully didn't touch the controls. "How long do you think this tank is going to hold him anyway? I've either got a potential asset on my hands or a ticking time bomb. I intend to find out which it is right now."
"Shepard, he's a krogan and he's been programmed by a madman. You have no way of knowing how he'll react once you let him out of that tank!"
"That should liven things up around here then," Shepard flashed her a cheeky grin. "Wish me luck!"
"Shepard!" Miranda pounded her palm on the glass again but he'd turned his back on her. "Damn it!"
She turned to Thomas so fast the man jumped.
"Get up to the armoury and find Jacob. Tell him to get a cutting torch down here now!"
The smirk disappeared from Shepard's face as he turned to the tank. Defying Miranda and telling her he was going to open the tank was far easier than actually doing it.
"You're a pretty big fella, aren't you?" he said under his breath. That's an understatement. The krogan in the tank had its eyes closed and its bulging muscles were relaxed, giving it the appearance of being asleep. Even unconscious however, Shepard felt a slight tinge of fear tugging at him when he looked at the creature. Wrex was still the biggest krogan he'd ever seen but the specimen in the tank came a close second. Unlike Wrex, its body was unmarked, free of the multitude of scars that covered the old krogan battlemaster. The heavy brow crest, covering its head from the top of its eyes to the back of the neck, was still segmented, the individual armoured plates not yet having hardened and grown together into the single impenetrable shield that gave adult krogan their distinctive tank-like appearance.
Despite presumably never having left its tank, it was clad in thick armour the likes of which Shepard had never seen on a krogan before. Most krogan warriors he'd encountered were protected by crude looking armour that looked to have been roughly cobbled together with whatever the wearer had been able to salvage or plunder. The armour this krogan was wearing looked like it had been custom fitted and appeared to have many of the same features normally found on only the newest and most expensive armoured hardsuit available in Citadel space. How did Okeer get him in that suit?
Taking a deep breath, Shepard placed his palm against the holographic palm reader Miranda had had fitted on the tank when they'd first brought it aboard and punched in his executive override codes. A warning klaxon began blaring as the sealed tank hissed open. The amniotic fluid the krogan was suspended in began to drain out of the tank, some of it splashing onto the deck and pooling around Shepard's feet. As the tank slid open, the krogan fell to its knees, collapsing onto the metal surface of the deck with a loud thud that reverberated loudly in the cargo bay. For a moment, Shepard thought it was dead but then one of its eyes opened, darting around in bewilderment. It wretched a few times, coughing up more fluid before it seemed to notice Shepard. Its entire body seemed to tense as a baleful malice filled its eyes.
Oh fuck me…
"Damnit Shepard, why don't you 'hero' types ever use your heads for anything besides bludgeoning things?"
Shepard wasn't a small man but the krogan he was facing absolutely dwarfed him in every respect. Already towering over Shepard by almost a full head, it looked almost as wide at its shoulders as it was tall. It reminded her of one of the hulking reptilian monsters from Jacob's comic books brought to life. Where the hell is Jacob and that cutting torch?
She pounded her fist on the door one last time out of frustration as the beast rose to its full height and roared in unadulterated animalist rage. She saw Shepard begin to reach for a pistol he'd stuffed in the back of his waistband. She cringed as the krogan began its charge. No way he gets it out before he ends up pasted against the bulkhead. Shepard seemed to arrive at the same conclusion she did. At the last second he managed to just barely propel his body out of the path of the onrushing krogan. Rolling on his shoulder, he reached for his pistol but the krogan had already stopped and turned to charge again, its agility completely belying its size and bulk.
"I got down here as fast as I could."
Jacob grunted as he struggled to manhandle a heavy-duty cutting torch out of the lift.
"I need this door opened yesterday, Jacob," Miranda said, pressing a hand against her forehead and massaging her temples. She felt a headache coming on.
The blue flame of Jacob's cutting torch roared to life as he pulled down his protective goggles and went to work. Miranda looked away as the krogan lowered its head and prepared to charge again. You'd better not die in there, Shepard. I'm not going back to the Illusive Man to ask for another four billion credits to restart the Lazarus Project.
"How long is this going to take?" she asked impatiently.
Jacob had barely begun working but already she could see beads of sweat pouring down his face from the intense heat of the thermite torch.
"I'm working as fast as I can, Miranda," Jacob shouted back at her over the hissing of the flame. Despite the fiery intensity of the torch, it seemed to be doing nothing except burning off the paint on the door. "These doors are meant to seal off the rest of the ship in the event of a hull breach. Getting through it's gonna take time!"
The sound of the krogan roaring again drew Miranda's attention back to the horrific scene unfolding in the cargo bay. Baring its teeth, it lowered its head and thundered toward Shepard. I wonder if there'll even be enough left of Shepard for us to piece together this time. Shepard had more space to react this time however and when the krogan was almost upon him he sidestepped it and stuck out his knee, clipping its leg as it passed. Somehow, the impact didn't completely shatter Shepard's knee and the krogan went airborne, smashing into a stack of heavy metal munitions crates like a wrecking ball. Miranda felt a sense of relief washing over her and she saw her emotions reflected in Shepard's face. No way the krogan's getting up from that. It had landed awkwardly on the back of its head. By the way it was lying amidst the pile of crates, a crumpled mass of muscle and armour, Miranda guessed it had broken its neck. As Shepard turned toward the door however, the crumpled mass of muscle and armour stirred. Oh my god…
The krogan pushed itself to its feet and beat both fists against its armoured breastplate like an enraged gorilla.
"I AM… KROGAN!"
As Miranda watched helplessly, the krogan picked up a crate like it weighed nothing and hurled it at Shepard's head.
The expression on Miranda's face was what saved him. As her eyes widened, Shepard instinctively ducked and barely managed to deflect the crate.
"I AM… KROGAN!"
He wasn't able to bring his arms back in to protect his body before he felt something slam into his chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs and launching him hard into a bulkhead.
"Yeah, I can see that," Shepard wheezed as he tried to stagger to his feet. His entire body felt like it was on fire. "Got any other earth-shattering revelations, big guy?"
The krogan approached, slowly and purposefully this time, like a predator cornering its wounded prey. Its bared wedge-like teeth did nothing to dissuade that comparison. Do krogan eat their defeated enemies? When the krogan reached out toward him with its huge three-fingered hand, Shepard tried to duck out of its grasp but pain flared in his knee and a vice-like alien hand clamped around his throat, lifting him to his feet.
"Human. Male," the krogan stated simply, as if it was reciting random trivia.
"I usually prefer 'Commander Shepard'…" A menacing sounding growl emanated from deep within the krogan's chest. Shepard locked eyes with the krogan. "But since we've gotten off to such a good start, you can just call me 'Shepard'."
The krogan just glared at him for what felt like an eternity before finally speaking again.
"Before you die, I need a name."
Shepard cocked his eyebrow. Great. He's either deaf or brain damaged. That should make establishing a rapport easier.
"The name's Shepard, John Shepard. Like I said."
The krogan shook its massive head, a distinctly human-like gesture that somehow only made him look more alien.
"Not your name. Mine. I am trained, I know things, but the tank... Okeer couldn't implant connection. His words are hollow." The krogan scrunched up his face. "Warlord, legacy, grunt… grunt… 'Grunt' was among the last. It has no meaning. It'll do."
A self-satisfied expression spread over the krogan's face as it tightened its grip around Shepard's throat and lifted him until the tips of his toes were barely touching the ground.
"I am Grunt. If you are worthy of your command, prove your strength and try to destroy me."
"Can't we just settle this with a drinking contest or something?" Shepard asked. The krogan looked at him quizzically. I guess humour's probably lost on this guy. "You want me to kill you?"
"Want?" Grunt looked even more confused by the word than at Shepard's attempt at a joke. "I do what I am meant to – fight and reveal the strongest. Nothing in the tank ever asked what I want. I feel nothing for Okeer's clan or his enemies. The imprint failed. Okeer has failed."
The confused expression left Grunt's face as his light blue eyes hardened. Shit… Shepard slipped a hand behind back to reach for his pistol. He'd noticed a weak point in the krogan's armour, a gap underneath the shoulder plate. If he could get the pistol out, he might be able to get a shot straight through that gap into the krogan's primary heart. That should put him down – I hope.
"This isn't working. We need another way through this door. We could try explosives." Jacob suggested. "There should be something with enough kick in the armoury…"
Miranda shook her head. She heard the roar of the torch intensify as Jacob attempted to increase its cutting power by feeding it more fuel but it was already at its maximum setting.
"Anything powerful enough to breach this door will likely blow Shepard through the hull too."
"Then what the hell are we gonna do? Just wait here until the krogan's done and find some baggies to collect Shepard with?"
She could hear the apprehension in Jacob's voice as his words began to spill out faster. She took a step back, warily eyeing the torch he was waving around.
"Getting excited isn't going to help the situation, Jacob," Miranda admonished him. He shot her an angry look but appeared to relax.
There's got to be a solution we haven't thought of. An image of a biotic explosion tearing through a ship's bulkhead appeared in her head, giving her answer. Jack!
She'd seen Jack rip through the bulkheads of the Purgatory like they were made of paper in her escape attempt. The Normandy's blast doors were significantly thicker but maybe if she added her strength to Jack's, they could force their way through with brute force.
"Get Jack," she ordered Jacob. He turned off the torch and looked at her with a puzzled expression.
"What for?"
"Just trust me." Jacob looked at her strangely but did as she ordered, running through the doors leading to the reactor core. Miranda studied the cargo bay door. Her biotic training had always emphasized control and finesse over raw power but she knew she wasn't lacking in the latter. If she could just focus her biotic abilities the same way Jack had, the two of them together might just be able to do it. This might just work…
"What the fuck you want now, cheerleader?"
Jack was looking at her with her arms crossed. Miranda gestured to the door.
"Help me break through this door."
Jack looked at her as if she'd gone insane.
"Why? What's on the other side?"
"Shepard and he's in serious trouble. We need to get him out of there," Miranda said quickly. He might already be dead. She pushed the thought out of her head. Jack walked over to the monitor showing the video feed of the cargo bay.
"Why the fuck would I want to help you do that? Looks like Shepard's got all he can handle." Jack smirked. "Should make for a good show. Hope he puts up some kind of fight before that krogan snaps his fucking neck."
Miranda felt a rush of static electricity wash over her skin as she turned to face Jack.
"If Shepard dies, Cerberus will no longer have need for your services. I will personally escort you out an airlock," Miranda threatened. "While we're in transit."
Jack stared angrily back at her but finally relented.
"We better fucking get started then."
Jacob's hands flared with biotic energy as he moved toward the door to help them but Miranda stopped him.
"Go up to the armoury and get those explosives."
"What about what you said before? The part about spacing Shepard?"
Miranda bit her lip.
"If this doesn't work, we'll just have to take that chance."
"Without a reason that's mine, one fight is as good as any other. Might as well start with you," the krogan said in a matter-of-fact tone as he started to crush Shepard's windpipe. Shepard's hand began to tighten around the grip of his pistol but then he stopped. Maybe there's still a way to salvage this. Not like this situation can get any worse.
"You might want to rethink that."
Grunt looked at him suspiciously.
"How far do you think you'll get? You might kill me. You might even be able to kill my crew. But did those tank imprints also teach you how to fly a frigate by yourself?" Shepard asked.
"What are you talking about, human? Speak plainly," Grunt growled.
"I have a proposal. You were bred to fight. I need a warrior. You need enemies. I have no shortage of enemies," Shepard said, watching the krogan's face carefully. "Join my crew and I will give you a cause to fight for."
"You think your cause and your enemies are worthy of me – of my blood?"
"You think slowly dying of starvation on a ship you can't fly is a more worthy end for you?" Shepard challenged. "I'm starting to think you're just like all of Okeer's other rejects – perfect physical specimens… but with all the brainpower of a mentally challenged varren."
A low, menacing rumble sounded from Grunt's throat but he tilted his head as if considering Shepard's proposal.
"And how are you worthy to lead me?"
Shepard blinked. He suddenly realized how accustomed he'd grown to being able to use his reputation alone to make others listen to him. The thought had never occurred to him that he'd ever encounter someone unfamiliar with the legends that seemed to follow him like a second shadow. Shepard narrowed his eyes.
"I know war. I've been fighting nonstop for twelve years. I've prevailed over odds you can't even imagine – survived ordeals that utterly destroyed other men," Shepard snarled.
"You claim to be a warrior, human? Let's see you back that up with something other than words," Grunt scoffed.
"Be careful what you wish for."
One shot at this. Shepard rammed his fist into the soft, fleshy part of Grunt's neck between the collar of his armour and his jaw, stunning the krogan. As Grunt hand fell from his throat, Shepard put all his weight on his good leg, locked the krogan's arm, and straining his muscles to capacity, threw the krogan to the ground.
"You can either agree to follow me…" Shepard drew his pistol and pressed the muzzle between Grunt's eyes. "Or I can put you down like a crippled vorcha."
It seemed to take a moment for Grunt to realize what had happened but when he finally did, he let out a guttural laugh.
"Hah! Impressive, Shepard. Your offer is… acceptable. I'll fight for you."
Shepard holstered his pistol and extended an arm to pull the krogan up. As Grunt took his outstretched hand, Shepard was able to fully appreciate how much the krogan weighed. How much tech did Cerberus juice me with?
"If I find a clan, if I find what I… want, I will be honoured to eventually pit them against you. But if you're weak and choose weak enemies, I'll have to kill you," Grunt warned ominously.
Shepard walked over to the cargo bay door and ripped the electrospanner out of the opening mechanism.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Shepard said dryly.
Miranda focused yet another biotic blow against the door, trying to time the impact of the blast exactly with Jack's. She could feel her hair and clothes starting to cling to her body from the exertion but when she looked over at Jack, the other woman barely appeared to have broken a sweat. The door was beginning to buckle under their combined efforts but she was starting to regret sending Jacob back to the armoury. He wasn't nearly as strong as either her or Jack, but his added power would still have made a difference.
As she prepared another attempt, the door suddenly slid open. Miranda grabbed Jack's wrist before the other biotic could launch another warp.
"Wait!" she cried.
Shepard limped through the door with a giant smirk on his face. Miranda wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh in relief or slap it off his face.
"Didn't think I'd be able to talk him down?" he asked, nodding at the heavily dented door as it closed behind him. Jack snorted and shook her head.
"Looks like a false alarm, princess. I'll be downstairs next time you're looking for a workout buddy," she said sarcastically, disappearing back into the bowels of the ship. As soon as she was sure the younger woman was gone, Miranda shoved her palm into Shepard's chest. The corners of his mouth tightened slightly but he managed to avoid showing any other outward signs of having felt her hit him right where the krogan had.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Miranda demanded.
"It seems to have worked out. We have a krogan on our side," Shepard said calmly, as if she'd just asked him about the weather. "I can tell you from personal experience a half ton of angry krogan can be a useful asset in certain situations."
"And if it hadn't worked out, what then?" Miranda glared at him, fixing her blue eyes directly on his.
"Then you'd be free of me and you could go back to whatever the hell it is Cerberus had you doing before all this," Shepard answered. Again his voice was perfectly even. The fact she was almost shouting at him and he was responding in the same tone a teacher would use on a troublesome student only infuriated her more.
"Did it ever occur to you that Cerberus brought you back – I brought you back for a reason? The galaxy needs you. Humanity needs you," she said, trying to bring the volume of her voice back down but only succeeding in turning it into a hiss. "Your life doesn't just belong to you now."
Shepard recoiled as if she'd struck him. Damnit. Probably shouldn't have worded it that way.
"Really? And here I thought Cerberus brought me back for purely altruistic reasons," he said. His voice was completely humourless despite his words. "If you need me I'll be in the infirmary."
He limped past her into the lift and pounded his fist hard enough into the control console that she could hear it. The doors hissed shut and Miranda was left alone in the corridor. Miranda sighed. Half step forward, three steps back.
Lina Salassi's eyes darted rapidly around the restaurant. As usual, she was seated in one of the corner booths, her seat inclined at an angle so she could see the mirror mounted behind the bar so she could see all the entrances without looking like she was watching them. Illium had plenty of far more affordable establishments with menus more suited to salarian tastes but she wasn't here for the food. Marciano's was owned and run by a human chef from Earth and its clientele consisted of mostly wealthy humans who visited it regularly. Humans being relatively rare on Illium, she could recognize most of the other patrons, making it difficult for those with potentially less-than-friendly intentions to sneak up on her.
She resisted the urge to glance down at her chrono again. It felt like an eternity since she'd last checked it but she knew it couldn't be more than a few minutes. She gulped down a mouthful of bitter tea to calm her nerves and grimaced at the taste. Under normal circumstances, she'd have gotten up and walked away already. Every client who contracted her and wanted to meet in person got the same instructions – an additional twenty percent to the total fee, they came alone, and they couldn't be even a minute late. Break the terms and she'd disappear with their deposit. The information brokering business could be deadly to those who didn't take the necessary precautions. The secrets traded were too sensitive and too valuable for any of the parties involved – buyers and sellers – not to.
This client was different though. Instead of contracting her through an intermediary, as most clients did, this time she'd been contacted directly and been offered four times her usual fee. The amount alone was large enough for her to be willing to bend some rules but the fact the client had been able to track her down was what was keeping her rooted to her seat. She needed to know how they'd tracked her down, both for curiosity's sake and so she could ensure it wouldn't happen again.
A human male walked into the bar. Lina felt her pulse quicken. Although he was well-dressed, the human looked completely out of place in the establishment, enough so that some of the other patrons glanced at him out of curiosity. Even buried under his tailored suit, his heavily muscled frame bulged through and there was a deep scar running over one of his eyes. The eye itself didn't look like a normal human eye and it took a moment for Lina to realize it was fake – a poorly disguised prosthetic that clashed with his expensive clothing.
The man scanned the room for a moment before fixing his gaze on her and walking directly toward her table. He was either the client or an assassin. She hoped it was the former but loosened the catch on her small holdout pistol just in case. Not that it'd make much of a dent in this human. As he neared her, Lina could make out several more painful looking scars crisscrossing his muscular neck.
The man brusquely pulled out the chair across from her and settled into it. He took off his sunglasses and let them clatter on the table. So not an assassin. In her many years as an information broker, Lina had been fortunate enough to avoid angering too many people but she guessed an assassin would have just walked up to her and started shooting.
"Lina Salassi?" He had a strange accent that her universal translator picked up. She wasn't very familiar with human languages, but from the accent she could tell he wasn't from Illium.
"Yes?"
"My employer wants to meet you at another location," the man said, waving the waiter over. "Get me a pint of Sullivan's Red."
The waiter nodded nervously, his eyes briefly flickering over the Blue Suns tattoo adorning the side of the man's neck before he scurried off to get the drink.
"The agreement was that I would meet your employer here, face-to-face. I'm not going anywhere," Lina said, summoning as much courage as she could and trying to keep her voice from wavering.
"Yes, you are," the man stated simply.
"You can tell your employer the deal's off. I'm leaving."
"No, you're not." The waiter returned with the beer and quickly walked away, avoiding eye contact with either her or the tattooed man. The man took a sip of the beer. "My instructions were to get you to the meeting place with my employer. Nothing was mentioned about getting you there completely unscathed."
"I'm armed," Lina warned, her hand tightening around the grip of her pistol.
"I'm wearing a kinetic barrier generator," the man said. "You'll get off one shot – two maybe – before I break all your extremities."
He tossed a key fob across the table.
"There's a car parked outside with an address programmed into the navigation console. You're going to take the car to the programmed coordinates. Someone will be there to meet you."
"And if I decide to run?" Lina asked, dreading the answer.
"I was paid very well to pass on these instructions." The man leaned in slightly, forcing Lina to look into his one good eye. "I'll be paid even better to track you down and bring you in."
Lina took the key fob and slid it into her pocket.
"I'll… I'll be there."
Miranda crinkled her nose as she walked the short distance from her quarters to the lift. After weeks of being subjected to merciless ribbing by the rest of the crew for his cooking, Gardner had begun a series of culinary experiments, utilizing combinations of everything he could find in the Normandy's stores. Too bad it hasn't improved the quality of the food any. All Gardner had succeeded in doing was turning the normal fare of the Normandy's mess from 'barely edible' to 'completely inedible and possibly toxic'. Hearing Hawthorne's distinctive hyena-like laugh, she looked up in annoyance from the datapad she was trying to read. Hawthorne and Matthews were seated at one of the tables with Shepard, who had evidently just said something that the two crewmen found absolutely hilarious. Shepard looked perfectly at ease with the two Cerberus crewmen, entertaining them with war stories as if he'd known them for years.
Miranda knitted her eyebrows. Shepard may have been in overall command of the mission, but she was still the head of the Lazarus cell and thus the Cerberus personnel on the Normandy supposedly all reported to her. In theory. Any illusion that they were 'her' staff had ended practically from the moment Shepard had stepped onto the Normandy. They were his crew now and she was merely his executive officer, her official role as project director seemingly forgotten by everyone save herself. He seemed able to traverse the gulf that normally separated a commanding officer from his men without even appearing to try. He never had to resort to pretending to be everyone's best friend, trying to act like 'just another of the boys'. She'd encountered commanders like that before and they inevitably lost the respect of their subordinates as their efforts to ingratiate themselves with the latter resulted in a blurring of the lines separating leaders and their men. Shepard obviously doesn't have that problem. The crew of the Normandy liked him and respected him. They respected her too but she doubted their affection for her was anything like their affection for Shepard. That could be a concern if we ever end up in a situation where they have to choose between their loyalty to Cerberus and their loyalty to Shepard.
She stepped out of the lift and entered Mordin's lab. The salarian was hunched over a table, looking through an electron microscope at a number of what looked like small squares of some sort of fibre. As usual, he was talking rapidly to himself, completely engrossed in his work. Miranda cleared her throat to get his attention. Mordin looked up at her.
"Operative Lawson. How can I help?"
Miranda set her datapad on the corner of a countertop. As soon as he'd settled in, Mordin had completely rearranged everything in the Normandy's science lab. She couldn't even recognize it anymore. At first glance, it looked like a disaster zone, with equipment scattered everywhere and at least a dozen experiments going on, all of them at differing stages of progress. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought there were at least five or six scientists working in the lab. Now that she'd had time to get used to Mordin's working style though, she realized that despite its appearance, there was order controlling the chaos. A very peculiar, alien kind of order, but order nonetheless. I wonder if all salarians think like this or if it's just Mordin… She'd always prided herself in her ability to multitask, but the salarian scientist took the word to a whole new level. Barely sleeping even an hour a day, he always seemed to be working on something. She imagined it would be as difficult for him to work on a single project at a time as it would be for a less talented researcher to work on his dozen projects. Thanks to his extreme efficiency, Mordin was probably capable of outdoing an entire team of the most gifted human scientists.
"I… had some questions about the seeker swarm countermeasures," she said, trying not to gawk at Mordin's lab. "You've made some impressive progress, Dr. Solus, but it seems you're still quite far from coming up with a working prototype."
"Delicate work. Can't be rushed. Lives of Normandy crew and outcome of mission could be threatened if all variables not accounted for," Mordin said.
"I understand, Dr. Solus. I'm just not accustomed to your approach to the problem and I don't understand the purpose of some of your experiments. Last week you requested two litres each of human and quarian sweat. Why?"
Mordin blinked a few times in confusion, as if the answer was obvious. He went over to a lab table in the corner.
"Read reports of your mission to Freedom's Progress. Needed to know why swarms didn't find quarian. Reviewed recordings and found that swarms likely aware of presence of quarian but ignored him." Mordin punched up a display on a console. "Initially thought swarms might be using species-specific pheromones to differentiate between human and quarian targets."
"That sounds like a viable theory," Miranda said. "The chemical composition of human and quarian pheromones should be different enough so as to be a possible means of telling us apart. Even the pheromones of different Earth-based species differ significantly."
Mordin scratched his cheekbone.
"Theory problematic. Quarian environmental suit would have prevented swarms from detecting pheromones. Realized that several humans on Freedom's Progress also protected by environmental suits at time of attack. Seeker swarms not tracking humans through biochemical markers." Mordin scratched his cheekbone. "Samples didn't entirely go to waste. Study of pheromones did yield results in field of aromatherapy. Discovered several chemicals not yet discovered by commercial fragrance manufacturers capable of producing adverse results in human and quarian emotional states. Could prove useful in maintaining crew morale."
"So if the Collectors aren't using biochemistry to home in on us, what are they using?" Miranda asked.
Mordin's face lit up.
"Conceived of fascinating new theory last night over evening meal. If suspicions proven by experimentation, may have working prototype within one week." Mordin excitedly waved Miranda back over to the lab bench he'd been working over when she'd first entered. "Think you will find this interesting. Have to ask, how familiar are you with human physiology?"
Miranda couldn't suppress a smile.
"I supervised a project that resurrected a human being from the dead, Dr. Solus. I would say I have at least a passing familiarity with the subject."
"Ah yes, foolish question on my part," Mordin apologized. "Aware that human body produces its own weak electromagnetic field then."
Miranda frowned and crossed her arms.
"Yes, but the field is hardly significant enough to be used as a means of tracking a human. At most, it can be detected from a few metres away but even this would likely get lost in the background noise of other electromagnetic radiation."
Mordin beamed, a self-satisfied grin nearly bisecting his face.
"Yes, but fluctuation of electric impulses in human body creates unique signature in electromagnetic field. Field itself difficult to detect, fluctuations much easier if other sources of electromagnet radiation accounted for."
Uncrossing her arms, Miranda looked over some of Mordin's research data.
"But even according to your own findings, picking up such fluctuations would require extremely sensitive equipment. Cerberus attempted to create a system that could detect and track biological lifesigns based on those kinds of fluctuations but we were never able to calibrate the sensors to pick up something that subtle."
"Collectors not Cerberus, Operative Lawson. Technological capabilities unknown but believed to be highly advanced. Possible Collectors may possess such capabilities. Would explain how seeker swarms were able to detect human lifesigns through walls," Mordin retorted.
"Maybe they picked up their heat signatures and went to investigate," Miranda offered. Mordin shook his head.
"Freedom's Progress located in cold region. Average evening temperature in warm season still falls below two hundred seventy-three kelvin. Living quarters constructed with super-insulating materials. Still just a theory, but Collectors using electromagnetic signature of humans most likely answer."
"What do you need to confirm your theory?" Miranda asked.
"Will need data on exact magnitude of electromagnetic field fluctuations created by humans. More data on Collector seeker swarms also useful. Actual working specimen ideal, but not absolute requirement."
Miranda nodded. Mordin's first request shouldn't be too difficult to satisfy but the second might be a problem.
"Cerberus is continuing to investigate new colony disappearances. I'll have the search teams keep an eye out for what you need. As for your other data, I can repurpose the Normandy's… surveillance system to pick up on electromagnetic readings," Miranda said, catching herself just before she mentioned the bugs she'd had planted all over the ship. After Wilson, she hadn't been willing to take any chances.
"Thank you, Operative Lawson," Mordin said. His eyes suddenly widened and he went over to a work bench and began rummaging through a box. "Meant to return these to you before."
The salarian held out the bugs she'd so painstakingly hidden in his lab.
"Disabled cheaper ones, but thought you might want more expensive surveillance devices returned."
"Oh um… thank you, Dr. Solus," Miranda managed to mumble as he dumped them in her hands.
"Call me 'Mordin'. Never saw much point in titles. Occasionally has uses, but serves only as pointless expression of self-aggrandizement when amongst working colleagues."
Miranda couldn't help but smile. She could think of at least a few people she'd worked with on the Lazarus project who'd disagree with the salarian.
"You might be right Doct – Mordin. Call me 'Miranda' then." Her omnitool beeped to indicate she'd received an urgent message. "You'll have to excuse me, Mordin. I've got a matter I have to attend to."
Mordin nodded.
"Will be here if you need me."
Miranda closed and locked the door to her office, then sat down at her console and entered her encryption key. She frowned. Cerberus Central Command. Cerberus cells rarely communicated with each other or with anyone other than the Illusive Man when operating in the field. Cerberus had too many enemies to risk compromising security unnecessarily. It was even stranger that she would be contacted; given the importance of the Lazarus Cell's mission and that it was based on a moving vessel.
Transmitted: Cerberus Command
Intended Recipient: Operative Lawson, Lazarus Cell
Encryption Level: Alpha Two – EYES ONLY
Per the Illusive Man's instructions, your current mission remains your highest priority but we need someone to look into a situation on Lorek, a planet in the Fathar system. As your last scheduled check-in places the Normandy in the Omega Nebula, your cell is the closest operational Cerberus asset to Lorek. We have reason to believe mercenaries affiliated with the Eclipse mercenary band are holding one of our operatives in a hidden facility on the surface. This operative was in possession of sensitive data which could compromise Cerberus' capacity to operate effectively in Citadel space.
Fortunately, the operative was implanted with a sub-dermal transmitter which the Normandy should be able to pick up from orbit. We need you to extract the operative and recover any relevant intel Eclipse may have acquired. If extraction of the operative proves impossible, you are authorized to use whatever means you have at your disposal to eliminate the facility and any Eclipse personnel in the immediate vicinity.
This is a very delicate matter, Operative Lawson. We trust in your discretion.
Miranda called up the navigation display on her console. She loathed the idea of diverting the Normandy from its mission but there wasn't anything urgent in the mission itinerary at the moment that couldn't be postponed. Lorek was only about one day's travel away at FTL cruising speed. The Normandy wouldn't even have to stop to refuel. The problem's Shepard. Nothing seemed to slip by the man. He wasn't going to miss his ship making a sudden detour for no apparent reason. Not to mention he's technically in command of the ship. Like all space-faring vessels, approval for all course changes had to go through the ship's commanding officer. Technically, as head of the Lazarus cell the crew reported to her and she could order them to change course over Shepard's objections but… Mutiny probably wouldn't be conducive to improving Shepard's opinion of Cerberus – or me.
What she needed was an excuse for the Normandy to stop in the Fathar system. Once they were in-system, she could grab Jacob and slip off the ship in a shuttle. A requisition order from Mordin caught her eye. Two hundred kilograms of platinum. Mordin had been using platinum as a catalyst for some of his experiments and had quickly burned through the Normandy's supply. She'd explain their detour as Lorek being the only nearby source of cheap platinum in the quantities Mordin needed. It might not be true, but Shepard was a soldier, not a quartermaster and thus far on this mission, he'd been more than willing to leave the logistics to her. If I can get Shepard to dock the Normandy on the surface, I won't even have to steal a shuttle.
"EDI, where's Shepard?" she asked, shutting down her console.
"Commander Shepard is currently in his quarters."
"Thank you, EDI."
Her plan wasn't perfect – she'd still have to explain why she and Jacob had disappeared for several hours on Lorek afterward – but she doubted Shepard would press her too hard. The detour wouldn't affect their primary mission. But what if he does? Miranda bit her lip thoughtfully. Pushing the thought out of her mind, she shut down her console and headed for the lift.