"Eleven, black."
Miranda groaned. Her sixth straight loss of the night. If she were going to be stuck here socializing, at the very least, she should be winning. Maybe she had had it right as a teenager: she should only play games she could rig in her favor.
She downed a glass of lemonade. The fundraiser had attracted the surviving cream of galactic society. She recognized most of them, either as associates of her father or from her work with Cerberus. They clinked their glasses and discussed this one's new star-yacht or that one's new spouse. Occasionally, they even remembered to mention the refugees. To think that this would have been her life if she had managed to survive her father: flittering from society party to society party, a glittering ornament on display for the paparazzi, supposed to care more for whatever vintage was being served than for whatever good their wealth was supposed to be doing.
"Hey, I remember you!" The voice was slurred with alcohol, but the vacuous tone would drive Miranda crazy even if the speaker were sober. "Minerva, right? What happened to your face?"
The muscles in Miranda's shoulders seized. She remembered Aish Ashland as an infant who had visited Henry along with her grandfather. The girl had been much more charming when she cried constantly. At least then there had been some hope that she would grow out of it.
"I know a really good plastic surgeon who could fix you right up." Ashland's voice dropped to a confidential whisper. "He did both of my noses."
"I'll take that under advisement."
"You've got to do more than that. Rumor is that you came here alone. The whole point of something like this is to show off your arm candy and your new jewelry." Something like sympathy crept into her face. "Or are you nursing a broken heart? After I caught Jenellen using my stash, I couldn't go anywhere for like, a week."
"And if I were nursing a broken heart, I would certainly tell a complete stranger about it."
The sarcasm flew over Ashland's head and landed somewhere near the chandelier. "Right! That's what the paparazzi is, after all. Well, my grandfather's waving me over. I hope he's not too mad that I put down some money on that one varren." And with that, Miranda was mercifully left alone.
Nursing a broken heart. The very idea was ridiculous. She had always known her affair with Oleg must come to an end. In this line of work, you took your pleasures where you could for as long as you could and didn't grieve when circumstances forced you and your lover to part. That the lover was her oldest friend and former mentor should make no difference. If they survived this war by some miracle, then she would see him again. He probably would have found some other lover and the nights they had shared together would be nothing but a happy memory when she saw him next, and…
She put three chips down on the double zero. Damn it. She missed Oleg. He would have found this whole evening as absurd as she did. He would have quietly laughed at Ashland and gently teased Miranda about playing a game with as high a house edge as roulette. They would have lost a few thousand credits, laughed about it, and simply watched the rest of the world. He would wear a tuxedo, not his dress uniform, and she would drink in the sight of him with abandon. He would dominate these shallow and vapid people the way he dominated the battlefield. And when the night was over, they would sneak back to her apartment for a proper dinner and lovemaking. Damn Cerberus.
"Miranda? What are you doing here?"
Oh no. It couldn't be. An eagle would be more at home at the bottom of the ocean then John would be at a black-tie party. But it was him. A small, dispassionate part of her was forced to concede that he cleaned up well enough. His eyes were the same clear blue she remembered. He was lean and muscular beneath his tuxedo. Half the women and a few of the men were staring at him and the woman in a blue dress that he had allowed on his arm. And Miranda felt… nothing. Not desire, not jealousy, not even regret, just emptiness.
"John. I bought a ticket. The same as you, I expect. Though my job requires me to submit myself to these functions. I'm curious what your excuse is."
"None of your business," said the woman beside him. "You're probably still with—you know what, I'm not even going to bother."
"Ash…" He put his chips down on number seven, and stared skeptically at Miranda's. "Double zero? You always were an optimist."
"And you always did love a cliché." The wheel came up seven, black. Miranda sighed. "Maybe I should go for the clichés once in a while. While I still have some of my bankroll left."
John stared at her, studying. The familiar pity clouded his eyes as he looked her up and down. "Your leg- is that from the Collector base? Miranda, I had no idea… I should have visited you in the med bay."
Miranda stared at him. There was a time she would have begged for such an apology, anything to prove that she was more than a bit of disposable tissue paper to the man she had given two years of her life and her heart. But there was only grim satisfaction. John's guilt and pity mattered no more than Henry's approval. "It might've been bad for your image," she said coolly.
"Like being with Cerberus is so great?"
"Ash, I don't really think this is a conversation we should be having right now. In public. While we're supposed to be doing you-know-what." He stiffened almost imperceptibly. "Excuse me."
"You just got a call on your comm, didn't you?" He opened his mouth to deny it, but Miranda smiled. "You looked just like that whenever Kasumi wanted something at the Hock party. Just try not to shoot up the place until after I leave this time. I never got the blood stains out of that dress." And perhaps it was better to get out while the getting was good. She motioned to the croupier to cash out her chips.
"Are we just going to let her walk away? She could still be with Cerberus?"
"If you bothered to watch the news, you would know that I have much better things to do with my time than Cerberus. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
A flicker of movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Miranda turned. A few feet away stood a dark-skinned woman in a teal dress. Miranda narrowed her eyes. Well, it seemed to be quite the day for running into familiar people. Hope Lilium had been one of the more competent intelligence analysts she had worked with in Cerberus, if a touch on the xenophobic side. She had disappeared a few weeks after the Illusive Man had begun rolling out the implants. And now she and John were at the same party. Interesting.
John followed her gaze. "Dammit, Brooks. What have you gotten yourself into now? If she cut herself and got high on the medi-gel again…"
Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Brooks? Is that what she's calling herself these days?" She inclined her head toward Williams. "If you want to find a Cerberus officer, look no further."
John and Williams looked at Lilium and back each other, and burst out laughing. "The woman so out of it that she named her tracking program after her damned cat is a Cerberus officer? Next, you'll be telling me that there's a clone of me running around."
"Considering the number of tries we had to go through to get your heart and lungs right, it wouldn't surprise me." She shook her head in irritation. "Nevermind. This 'Brooks' of yours was a Cerberus officer who prepared the dossiers for the mission through the relay. Drove her crazy when the Illusive Man asked for information on Mordin and Thane."
"But she nearly passed out he was she got shot. I had to drag her here. And did I mention that her tracking program is named after her cat?"
"It's called having a false identity." She sighed. "Allow me to demonstrate." She closed her eyes and willed tears to spring up. Her voice was raw, with the broad accent of the colonies. "What am I to do? My husband was killed in the battle for Mindoir, but the Alliance is refusing to pay benefits. And with the baby on the way…"
"Okay, we get it," Williams said. "But we're supposed to believe the 'ex-Cerberus' agent about another ex-Cerberus agent?"
"I believe her. Miranda's many things, including obnox—I mean, refreshingly blunt. And her eyes aren't glowing. That's enough to ask our new friends some questions, don't you think?"
He took Miranda's free hand and led her over to where Lilium was attempting to blend into the crowd. Lilium turned when she saw them. "Commander, have you—" Her eyes widened as she saw Miranda. Check.
"Got a few problems…" John sucked in a breath, relishing the sheer theatricality of the moment. "Hope."
Lilium broke into a run. Miranda resisted rolling her eyes. Why did they always run? She extended a hand and allowed biotic power to flow through her. Someone, maybe Ashland, screamed. Lilium froze, trapped by the stasis field. Williams marched up to her and put her hands on her shoulders. "Don't even think about moving."
A guard approached. "What's the meaning of this? Amps are supposed to be left at the door. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
John turned on his omni-tool. "Spectre authorization. She's with me." He approached Lilium as the guard blubbered his apologies. "Like my partner said, I'd suggest you not even think about moving."
Lilium fell to the floor as Miranda released her biotic field. She'd done her good deed for the millennium. Now it was time to beat a hasty retreat. She didn't know what Lilium was doing here, but it was never wise to stay around a former associate any longer than was necessary. She didn't think Lilium could peg her as an active operative, but it was better to take no chances.
Lilium rose to her feet and glared at Miranda. "Did Mr. Illusive send you? Last I heard, you were too crippled to be sent on assassination missions, but I suppose anything's possible."
Christ. She hadn't been lucky at the roulette table. Why should she be lucky at anything else? And, thanks to the cane, she wasn't in a position to run anywhere. "I'm not with Cerberus anymore. I acquired Lawson Biomedical and the Sanctuary refugee camp from my father and have been busy herding that particular band of cats for weeks."
"That's funny. I might be on the run from Cerberus, but I still have a few hooks in the organization. From my understanding, your last assignment was on Omega alongside General Petrovsky." Her teeth glistened like polished knives as she smiled. "Though from what I understand, you spent more time under him than beside him."
John put a hand on her shoulder. To an outsider, it would have looked friendly, even affectionate, but Miranda felt the warning strength in his squeeze. Don't run or I will come after you. "I think the two of us need to have a long talk somewhere private."
Miranda nodded. This was a temporary setback, not worth making a fool of herself like Lilium had. The Alliance couldn't prove her current association with Cerberus, nor did they have hard evidence of anything she had done previously. She was the woman who had stopped a terrorist attack on the Citadel, who had brought Commander Shepard back to life. Her very isolation on Omega would be her salvation.
John and Williams marched them to the car. Miranda kept one eye on Lilium as she kept her hands resolutely behind her back. "Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, John, but you might want to do something to neutralize the subdermal omni-tool she has installed."
John swore and pressed a button on his own omni-tool. Lilium smiled again. "Well, you're a lot saner than the usual batch Cerberus has looking for me. Usually, the indoctrination turns them into gibbering idiots by now."
"Indoctrinated?" Miranda swallowed. She had known that the implants were risky, but a part of her wanted to believe that the Illusive Man wasn't stupid enough to be playing right into the hands of Reapers. "Of course I'm not indoctrinated. I'm not even with Cerberus anymore."
"Of course you'd say that you weren't indoctrinated! I bet you—"
John glared at Ash as he brought the skycar to Tiberius Towers. "Easy, LT. I believe her," he said just a little too quickly. "I'll take charge of Miranda. You take Brooks to C-Sec and see if you can get some answers from her."
It was Williams' turned to glare. "Aye, aye." She took a step toward Miranda. "If you even think about hurting the commander, the keepers will still be finding pieces of you in the protein vats when this war is over. Got me?"
"Perfectly."
She and John were alone in the elevator. Miranda leaned against the wall. John couldn't keep his gaze from her leg or her scars. Did he feel sorry for her, blame himself for her injury? Pity was a noxious thing, but it was a tool that she could use here. "Are you in much pain?" he asked quietly.
"Today was a good day until your friend started accusing me of being a Cerberus agent."
"And she wasn't wrong, was she?" John smiled the same triumphant smile that he had when he had not only activated the geth but managed to turn it into an ally. "Don't look so shocked. You flinched a little when she mentioned Petrovsky and again when she mentioned indoctrination. I did pick up a few things about reading people from being around you. I'm betting that the intel about you being on Omega is true, and that makes you my favorite person in the world. Assuming you aren't indoctrinated."
"Which you have no way to prove. I guess you're just going to take my word on that."
His smile grew bigger. "That's where you're wrong. Cerberus aren't the only ones who play around with mad science. Let's just say we have a task force that involves fooling around with a lot of Reaper technology. We had to develop reliable tests for indoctrination. And fortunately, Gly-er, the Shadow Broker's info drone has a copy of protocol."
The elevator stopped. Miranda did her best not to stare as he led her into an apartment that rivaled Henry's penthouse in Sydney for luxury. The couches were made of the same leather she had used in the XO quarters and a grand piano dominated the living room. John led her to a game room/library and pulled a chair up next to the card table. "It's very simple Lawson. I'm going to ask Glyph to run some tests on you. If you pass, then I'm hoping you'll help me out. If not…" He lifted up the flap of his coat, revealing a Paladin.
"And what makes you think I'll help you of all people?"
"Because if you were the type of person to hold a grudge against her ex-boyfriend, Jacob would have been pushed out the airlock a long time ago. And, if Brooks' intel is accurate, then you and I might want the same thing. Which I will tell you all about as soon as you pass my little test. Glyph, get in here."
She spent the next few minutes suffering the drone asking her questions in its annoying monotone and allowing it to measure her heart and breathing rates. "I can confirm with 98.72% accuracy that Ms. Lawson is not suffering from the effects of indoctrination, nor do I detect the presence of the usual Cerberus implants."
Miranda raised an eyebrow at John. Told you.
He sighed in the visible relief, as if it actually mattered to him that she wasn't indoctrinated. "Good. Stick around for a minute. I'm going to need you." He turned to Miranda. "Is it true that you were working on Omega with Oleg Petrovsky?"
Miranda didn't answer.
John groaned. "Off the record. No statement you make can be used in a court of law. Cross my heart and hope to die, et cetera. Did you work with Petrovsky?"
Oh, fine. If he was determined to believe her a Cerberus officer, she doubted her continued denials would do anything to disabuse him of that notion. And he didn't seem interested in arresting her. Curious. "Yes."
"And the part about sleeping with him?"
"None of your damn business."
"Touched a nerve, did I?" He fingered one of the cards. "Aria T'Loak wants my help retaking Omega. She's quite convinced Petrovsky is a merciless bastard. I believe she's planning on killing him. She's amassed quite an impressive fleet to do just that."
Miranda froze. An invasion had always been a possibility, albeit a more distant one compared to the daily threat of the Talons. She could see it in her mind's eye. Aria would crash the vanguard of her forces into the station. Most wouldn't survive, but they would be able to disrupt the shielding long enough to land a small force. That small force would be able to take out the defense cannons if they were quick and skilled enough. Which John was. They would find a capable if reluctant ally in Kandros. The outcome of the final battle was… uncertain, even with all of Oleg's tactical skill. Aria would show no mercy. His would be a slow, torturous death. The Pirate Queen couldn't afford to be seen as weak. No. No. She wouldn't let that happen.
"I don't want him to die either. You see, Liara still has a few agents on Omega, and one was able to pass on a few logs from a Dr. Walker. Glyph, play back record 79 – 40R."
"We've exhausted all of our current samples, sir. Project Zephyr can't continue without more adjutants."
The Illusive Man's voice. "Omega has eight million residents. I'm sure you can find sufficient resources."
"Lawson would never go for that. Neither would Petrovsky."
"What about Major North? Do you think you would be amenable to assisting you in securing the station?"
"I believe so, particularly if you can get him implanted. He's wanted them for months, but Petrovsky won't let him."
"Consider it done. You will have to be discreet. I managed to disguise some aspects of our work on Avernus, and Oleg prefers to take a charitable interpretation of the facts, but it wouldn't be wise to do this too openly."
"And Miranda? She'll never stand for this."
"Leave Miranda to me."
Miranda felt as if the floor had opened up from under her. Eight million people, fodder for the adjutant experiments. The Illusive Man would never… She shook her head. Of course he would. A few million lives was nothing compared to the trillions of lives in the galaxy. Walker was more than capable of it. North had always been eager for implants. It was all so terribly, disgustingly plausible. And she had helped these madmen. She should have shot Walker, not allowed him to take her place. It would be all too easy to make a few extra thousand people disappear. It was Omega. People disappeared every day. "What do you want from me?"
"Petrovsky's actions on New Macau are part of the modern military history course at Arcturus. I looked up to him when I was a cadet. If I could get him fighting on our side, it could turn the tide on a few fronts. And if I could marry his tactical genius to the resources of Lawson Biomedical and the technical know-how of the woman who brought me back from the dead, well that would be worth a lot more than the fleet Aria offered me."
"You want me to defect? And convince Oleg to defect alongside me?" She laughed. "Go from working for a madman someone who believes in magic?"
"Believes in magic?"
"That bloody Crucible of yours. Change all life in the galaxy on a genetic level. Make us all immune to indoctrination. It makes controlling the Reapers look like a brilliant plan in comparison."
For as long as she had known him, John had never been completely still. He was always drumming his fingers or tapping his foot. He was still now. "You know what the Crucible does?"
"And you don't?" Recognition dawned. "Don't tell me that the Alliance has been building the Crucible without knowing what it does?"
"Er…" He schooled his features into a semblance of professionalism. "Did the Illusive Man give you data from Mars to figure that out? The Alliance would be very, very interested in that data. I was going to use my Spectre authority to give the two of you amnesty before Aria swept in. But if you give me a copy of that data, well, I can delay that invasion to give you and Petrovsky time to do what you need to. Aria won't move without me anyway, and I can make the logistics of her invasion very awkward. "
He leaned forward to look her in the eye. "And, if you bring Petrovsky back to me, I'm willing to sweeten the pot." He fished an OSD out of his pocket. "On this disc is a program that I can release into the Alliance intranet. Everything the Alliance has on you Petrovsky, and the rest of Lazarus Cell, all those inconclusive investigations, gone. In fact, I can rewrite the records to say that you've been a deep cover operative gathering information on Cerberus for years. You could go back to being CEO of Lawson Biomedical without ever having to worry about a repeat of tonight. Stop sleeping with a gun under your pillow."
Stop sleeping with a gun under your pillow. She and Oriana could be secure in the life they had, and Oleg could have the life he always wanted. All she had to do was believe the man who had abandoned her at his convenience, believe that that recording wasn't just another fake and that John would do what he said he would. But if it weren't a fake, if Walker really was planning to process an entire station, then Oleg was in very serious danger. He would never stand for it, and Paul Grayson was proof of what happened to traitors.
If she turned now, she would be hunted, another Grayson herself. She could never stay in one place long enough to complete the Lazarus implants. John couldn't really prove anything. She would be back on the street within a week. But if Aria was coming, if Walker and North really were harvesting civilians right under Oleg's nose, then she and John were the only ones who could stop it. She could save Oleg from what was to come, and if Fate was kind, she might even get to keep him when this was all over. All she had to do was risk her freedom, her life, and everything she had worked for first. The things I do for love…
"Let's discuss the terms of my ' defection,' shall we?"
The extensive surveillance system Oleg had installed throughout Omega was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that he could keep an eye on North and his augmented soldiers without risking himself in battle. But it also meant watching the troops as they worked. The augmented were relentless and as they mowed down Talons that had been raiding a supply depot just minutes earlier. A turian took a shotgun blast to the face and crumpled in a heap. It was a moment before Oleg realized he wasn't dead. He stirred feebly, moaning something Oleg couldn't understand. North drew his sidearm and shot him twice more without a word.
Oleg paled. Attacking those who were hors de combat was becoming increasingly common among the augmented soldiers, but said soldiers were the only ones getting results in the increasingly frequent and brutal engagement with the Talons. So Oleg tolerated their flouting of the laws of war. Ugly business, but better than sending another condolence letter. Miranda might have found another way, as she had steered him away from oppressing the civilians, but she was on Horizon or the Citadel, the wealthy, powerful exemplar of the best in humanity of the she was always meant to be. She didn't belong in the muck and mire of Omega any more than she had twenty years ago.
Hawthorne paged him. "Omega Control calling General Petrovsky. We have a craft seeking permission to land. MSV Geronimo. Never seen her before, but the IFF checks out."
"Wave them off. The station is not accepting any landings until the Talon situation is resolved."
A few seconds passed, but when his comm crackled to life again, it wasn't Hawthorne who spoke. "Until the Talon situation is resolved?" Miranda said. "Do you expect me to wait forever?"
"My dear?" Tears threatened to swallow his voice. Was Providence at last showing him some kindness, sending her back to him the moment he wished for her? "What are you doing here?"
The teasing tone vanished. "That's something we should discuss in person."
He hurried to the docking bay as quickly as the shielded car would permit. His thoughts crashed into each other. Miranda had been returned to him, but there was no word from the Illusive Man that she had been permitted to return. And she had sounded so serious. What could have happened to send her flying back here with no notice? Was she the harbinger of some invasion? Had she heard rumors of Aria's movements and come to warn him for the sake of whatever affection she had for him?
He was being foolish. Probably her return had nothing to do with him at all. But does it matter? She's here for you to hold once more. Be grateful for however long you've been given.
Fifteen minutes later, he stood in the docking bay watching as Miranda hobbled down the gangplank. She wore a gray business suit instead of her uniform. As she came closer, he saw the telltale lines around her mouth and eyes that meant she had suffered a flareup recently. Patel and Matthews followed her down, wearing bemused expressions that suggested they didn't know why they were here either.
She stopped inches from him. The scent of vanilla, so subtle as to be almost imperceptible, wafted to his nostrils. He drank in the sight of her. The vein running across her temple, the ragged edges of her scars. So many small details that he had forgotten even in the short amount of time she had been gone. He glared at Matthews and Patel, suddenly wishing for nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow them whole. "Operative Lawson." By some miracle he kept his voice even.
"General Petrovsky." Her voice trembled as well. So many emotions in those two words if one knew how to look. Exhaustion. Pleasure. And fear. He stiffened. There was a story told by children in Shanxi of a ghost that haunted the first Governor's Residence: a young woman who had once been beautiful but had been scarred and murdered on her wedding day. Any who saw her were doomed to die within the year. It was only a story, of course, but it was as if the ghost had been given flesh and form. Miranda looked at Matthews and Patel. "Start bringing the adjutants out of cryo. I hope we won't need them, but we can't be too careful."
Oleg stared at her. "You brought the adjutants back? What's going on?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she took his hands in hers and brought them to her lips. She kissed his fingers, not with abandon, but slowly, taking her time with him. Each press of her lips was like a brand. "I should have been more cautious. But I wanted to believe we were doing good, so I turned a blind eye." She looked at him. "I think the Illusive Man has gone mad. Maybe he's indoctrinated. I'm not sure. And I think he ordered North and Walker to commit war crimes."
Oleg dropped her hands and stepped back. "Mad? His mind can be labyrinthine, certainly. I don't always agree, but he has our best interests at heart. And I would know if North and Walker were up to anything." This station was his domain, his responsibility. North had bent the laws of war, but only in the ways that Oleg had lent his tacit approval. And the sick pallor that Miranda wore suggested something far worse than executing downed soldiers.
"Then explain this." She pressed a button on her omni-tool. Oleg listened in silence as a recording of the Illusive Man and Walker discussed harvesting the entire station. A cold, sick feeling wormed its way into his gut. He could almost believe such of Walker, with his blithe indifference to even basic safety protocols, but never of the Illusive Man.
"That makes no sense." His voice felt hollow. "We can barely hold the station now. If word got out about death on an industrial scale, Omegans would fight to the last man to prevent it." Exactly as the Talons were doing now. He pushed the thought away. "In any case, Cerberus is supposed to protect humanity, not slaughter it. That recording must be a fabrication. Where did you get it?"
"From the Alliance, of course," North drawled. His armor was still scarred and bloodstained. He must've come directly from the supply depot. "Lawson here turned traitor and got a sweetheart deal if she would bring you back with her." He smirked. "Did you think we would pass up the chance to bug Anderson's apartment? Never know who he might let use it. We know all about your little chat with Shepard."
Miranda stood impassively, but Oleg recoiled as if he had been slapped. He had instilled his faith in advancing humanity into Miranda. She would never betray that. "Get out before I'm forced to do something I regret."
"Oh, but it's true, isn't it?"
Miranda glared at him. "If our plan involves killing millions of people who are supposed to be under our protection, then any alternative starts to look better. Even trusting in the Crucible. Your way is no better than the Reapers." There was no waiver in her voice, none of the guilt or shame a traitor ought to be feeling.
"You see?" North said with a laugh. "She doesn't even try to hide it. I have orders from the Illusive Man himself to put her down. Leave, Petrovsky. You don't need to see this, and I'd rather not risk you getting caught in the crossfire."
Miranda pulled out her own gun, and time seemed to slow. Time enough for Oleg to consider everything. Miranda had turned on Cerberus, and protocol was very clear on what to do with traitors. However the Alliance had seduced her, the Illusive Man was the only one who could stop the Reapers and secure humanity's continued survival. The Crucible was a fool's hope, magic by another name.
And yet…to murder her? No attempt to reason, no consideration that they only had the gifts of Avernus because of her sacrifice? She was no common thug like Grayson. And…and he loved her. A world where he stood by and watched her die was not one worth saving. "I can't let you do that."
"You're obstructing a lawful order. The Illusive Man will mount your head alongside hers."
"Then let him come and take it."
Miranda fired twice. North's shields absorbed them with a momentary blue flash. North drew his monomolecular blade and dove for Oleg. Oleg twisted out of the way at the last moment, and North lunged at nothing but air. Think. He had to think. It had been years since he'd had to fight hand-to-hand, and North was both armored and augmented, but Oleg had the advantage of size. If he didn't let North get in close, perhaps he stood a chance.
"Bloody hell," Miranda muttered. "Please, kill Major North."
The adjutant lunged down the gangplank and made for North's throat. North went sailing backwards and hit the ground with a loud crack. The adjutant was on him. North slashed feebly at the creature, but its spindly claws beat the blade back. "Clever," North sputtered. "Not enough. Adjutant, attack!"
A second, nearly identical shape lunged from the darkness. Oleg's eyes widened. North could command adjutants as well? What other secrets had he been keeping? He stood frozen as the two mindless beasts grappled with each other. North hauled himself to his feet. Oleg took an inventory of his options. He was unarmed, and Miranda's sidearm had precious little stopping power. The adjutants canceled each other out. Patel and Matthews would emerge at any moment, but they were likewise poorly armed.
"This is North. Requesting backup. Petrovsky and Lawson have gone rogue. "
That was enough to tip the balance. A tactical retreat was called for. Miranda seemed to have the same idea. She took something from her pocket and threw it to the ground. Black smoke billowed through the air. He felt her hand find his. "Make for the service elevator. It'll lead you to the mining tunnels." She whispered. "Patel and Matthews will come as soon as they can."
"I won't leave without you."
"I can't run."
"But I can." He scooped her in his arms and prayed he wasn't hurting her. Her breathing was harsh and ragged, but she didn't protest. He carried her the few dozen meters to the service elevator and breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut behind them with a clang. He set her gently on the floor. His hands shook. The events of the last few minutes hit him like a Thanix missile. Either he had gone rogue or North had. For thirty years, Cerberus had been his life and the Illusive Man's vision of human advancement had been his. And he had thrown that away like trash because Miranda was in danger. Now North was trying to kill him.
His knees gave way under him and he sank to the floor. What had he done? What was he going to do now?
Warm fingers touched his knee. "Thank you," Miranda murmured.
"I couldn't let him hurt you. Not even for Cerberus." He leaned over and brushed his lips against hers. "Are you hurt?"
"I've been worse." She winced. "I've been better, too."
North's voice, filtered by the station-wide broadcast system, cut through the air. "Attention, citizens of Omega! Oleg Petrovsky and Miranda Lawson have committed treason against Cerberus. I am taking emergency command of this station and declaring them a danger to Omega. They are to be shot on sight. Anyone bringing information leading to their capture will be rewarded. Those caught harboring them will share their fate."
"So this is what it was like for Kandros," Miranda muttered. "I don't suppose I could talk you into pardoning her, seeing as she's not completely insane, unlike some people."
He laughed despite himself. It felt good to laugh. "I missed you, my dear. So very much."
Her eyes narrowed. "We have to get you off this station. I don't know how many people North has behind him, but I was banking on being able to use the adjutants if it came to violence. I thought I would have time before the Illusive Man sent assassins after me. Presumptuous on my part."
He shook his head. "At least you had some inkling that there would be assassins. But I can't abandon this station. I don't know if your accusations regarding the Illusive Man are true, but North is exactly the wrong sort of leader for Omega. Too prone to violence and extreme solutions. The civilians would suffer immeasurably." He took a deep breath. "And I assumed responsibility for them the day I drove Aria away."
"You stubborn, idealistic, idiot," Miranda said, but without real rancor. "I'm not sure how much help I can be. My cane is up there."
His mind whirred. The old Phoenix armor came with a combination combat/medical exoskeleton. It might allow for Miranda to have some mobility. They had been phased out when Project Dragoon came online, but there were a few suits kept in storage at various outposts in case they were needed. "I can get you something better than a cane. Until then, lean on me. We'll get through this."
"So confident."
"No, not confident. Simply sick of seeing people I love die."
The elevator came to a stop, and Oleg pulled her up as gently as he could. The tunnels were a warren of twisting paths covered in eezo dust. Here and there, the walkways had been broken up, and Miranda was forced to lean on him increasingly heavily as they walled. Her steps were slow and careful, like a child's when she should have been running and climbing to safety.
Miranda tensed. "Do you hear that?"
He did. Footsteps. Heavy, as if armored. And heading straight for them. He swore under his breath. The good commander didn't depend on fate, but he would have given his right arm for things to go well for them, at least until they had retrieved the armor.
"Lawson? Petrovsky? It's Hadley." He stepped into the light. "What's going on? North has completely lost his mind. Saying you're traitors."
"I don't know—" Oleg started to say, but Miranda beat him to the punch. "Indoctrination, it looks like. Or simple Cerberus madness."
Hadley took another step forward. "So you're fighting him?"
"For the moment."
Hadley drew his pistol with shaking hands. "Sorry… I...have…orders…" Every synthesized syllable sounded as if it had been ripped from his throat. Oleg could only watch in disbelief as his finger gripped the trigger.
He never fired. A flash of light arced through the air and struck Hadley in the neck. He crumpled to the ground, the shaft of an omni-arrow protruding from his armor. Oleg pulled Miranda to him and stared blankly at the dead man. Hadley? Of all the people follow North. He had believed in human advancement without xenophobia, and he had been grateful to Oleg for giving him a place to stay when he had initially refused the augmentations.
A sick feeling clawed its way into his gut. He had only approved the implants because Hadley had asked for them. North had become more aggressive after he had received implants. Suppose there was something to Miranda's claims? This was Reaper technology they were dealing with. It had the power to hurtle ships across the galaxy in a moment or make a man faster and stronger than Nature allowed, but it could also break the mind. As Grayson had been broken. He swallowed. As the Illusive Man might be broken?
Miranda seized his shoulder, half for support and have to comfort. "We'll mourn him later." She stared down at the arrow shaft. "We need to find that sniper. Who the hell uses a bow anymore?"
"We do," came another voice. "It's quieter and cheaper to manufacture. And there's another arrow trained on your heart. Stay where you are."
He obeyed. "Kandros? Show yourself. We're unarmed except for a pathetic civilian popgun."
"No, thank you. It wouldn't be the first time you lied to me, General. Though your friend is right. It seems Cerberus has gone mad. Your subordinate deposes you the way you deposed Aria."
"Spare me your gloating." He sighed. "What do you want?"
"For the moment, to save you from being murdered. And to know why a trooper you had been so friendly with is trying to kill you."
"I think I might know," Miranda murmured. "Since we can't move without being turned into pincushions, get one of your people down here and remove his helmet.
Silence. Finally, a batarian emerged from the shadows and, keeping his gun trained on them, knelt to unfasten Hadley's helmet. Oleg blanched. The thing—he refused to think of it as Hadley—looked scarcely human in death. The skin was too ashen for one so recently dead. Silver streaks cut through his flesh like knife wounds. And where there should have been brown eyes, there was only an unseeing field of blue the same color as the adjutants'. "A husk."
"Half-husk," Kandros said. "Kind of hybrid, as best we can tell, though they only look like it once they die. You should know all about that, considering the atrocities your men are committing in that camp! There were children there."
"Camp? The only camps I authorized were the detention centers your men were forever breaking out of. And the laws of war would prevent me from detaining anyone under the age of fifteen." He jerked his head toward the husk. "I only authorized this sort of thing to be done to corpses. To mutate a sentient being in this way would be monstrous."
The batarian stared at him "I don't think he's lying, boss."
"He isn't," Miranda said, peering up into the darkness. "I propose an alliance. Not every Cerberus trooper on this station has been implanted, and some still remember where their loyalties lie. Whatever you think of the general, he's much better than North. You know where I draw the line, and it's long before Dr. Walker does." They didn't answer, and Miranda continued on. "You want the civilians of Omega safe? So do we. What the Illusive Man has allowed here has to end."
Kandros laughed. "I see you picked up some of Shepard's speechmaking ability. And we need all the help we can get. But that doesn't mean I'm a fool. Brax, prep them to be taken back to the base."
"Yes, boss." He smiled at Petrovsky. "This won't hurt much." And, with that, he jabbed something cold into Oleg's neck. Oleg didn't even have time to open his mouth before blackness consumed him.
He woke sometime later feeling as if someone had driven an omni-blade through his skull. He sat up gingerly, but the room didn't spin. He chose to take that as a good sign. He was in some sort of dormitory, though it was empty. Cold overtook him. "Miranda? Are you here?"
"Just finishing suiting up." She walked through the door. The Phoenix armor was black and gold, and whether through accident or design, the Cerberus symbol had been scratched. Miranda seemed fascinated with the energy emitters in the gauntlets, letting out a beam of white light that whipped through the air. He had laughed when the techs had first demonstrated it—until it had decapitated the practice dummy. "The Talons stole one a few days after I left, and were kind enough to let me borrow it under the circumstances." She smirked. "Of course, the fact that I metabolized their neurotoxin in half the expected time might have had something to do with it." She held out a hand to him. "Kandros is waiting for us in the briefing room."
The briefing room was enormous. Innumerable screens dominated one wall. He recognized schematics for several of the detention camps on some of the screens while grainy security footage of outposts played on others. No wonder the Talons had always seemed to know when and where to strike. Dozens of soldiers in red, blue, and gold armor hurried from place to place. Some stared at him in disbelief, others with naked hatred.
Kandros stood above them on a walkway. "General Petrovsky. Operative Lawson. Welcome to the Talon headquarters. I apologize for the secrecy, but it was necessary." Her mouth distorted into what passed for a frown on a turian. "The Cerberus forces under North have locked down the station. They're arresting 'collaborators' as fast as they can, probably shipping them off to be turned into adjutants. Some Cerberus outposts are fighting back, especially in what you call Beta Sector, but it's disorganized. North has holed himself up in Afterlife, and our recon suggests that the tunnels are mined."
Oleg stroked his beard and shoved his shock and doubt into the little box where he kept all of his emotions on the battlefield. He was not a man, but a general with the tactical challenge to overcome. "We need access to the Green Zone. All our operations and security systems are run through Afterlife. If we can dislodge them, we can blind and cripple this coup. Rally the Cerberus troops who are still loyal."
"Except we'd never be able to take the club in a head-on assault," Miranda said. "There are, what, five thousand of you? There were thirty thousand of us? If even half that number have gone over to North, you'll be slaughtered. A guerrilla war is one thing, but you can't sneak attack Afterlife."
"Then we don't attack them head on. Most sieges were won by starving the defenders out. So, we besiege them."
"Except you made the station self-sufficient, remember?"
"I wasn't suggesting starving them. We need something more immediate. I assume you have a map of the station's power grid?" A holographic map of the station, swathed in blue and purple lights, appeared. "If we could cut the power to the Green Zone's life-support, the defenders would be dead in minutes with very few civilian casualties. We could waltz into Afterlife and Omega Control. Operative Lawson could have her private security force here within days, and we could mop up the remainder at our leisure."
Kandros' mandibles flared. "You would do that to your own men?"
He bowed his head. The image of Hadley as he had been—eager for nothing more than to save men like his brother-in-law-was as sharp as life. "Either they're implanted and husks already, or they're cowards who betrayed their posts. I treated you with honor because you were honorable. But I fight my campaigns to win them. I would have dismantled Omega if Aria had not withdrawn. So, yes, I'll gladly let them asphyxiate if it saves the lives of what remains of my men."
Nyreen shook her head. "Except you would kill civilians. When you first put the barriers up, we studied the possibility of infiltrating the reactor and killing the power. Everything on this station is connected to something else. You'd need a quarian or a geth to power it down without killing thousands."
Damn her. Kandros was right. They might eventually be able to power down the reactor without killing anyone, but the attempt would be detected long before they succeeded, and any commander of competence would send a force to disrupt the attempt. "What we would need is something that would affect only North's forces." A memory flickered. He turned to Miranda. "Didn't you say that you had developed a toxin that could disable Reaper forces for days at a time? If we could insert it into the master environmental control unit at Afterlife, we could disable the bulk of North's forces with one blow."
Miranda's lips thinned. "Too risky. I'm not even certain it works on integrated forces."
"It's better than risking civilians," Kandros said. "I vote we find this toxin."
Miranda cast her eyes to heaven. "Next you'll be telling me that you want to awaken a krogan in a confined space. The toxin is in the labs, and we can take a tram from there to Afterlife and bypass the energy fields. But how would we get to the labs in the first place? There's still those energy fields."
Oleg stroked his beard. The only thing they had that bypassed the energy fields was…the trucks. "Don't worry about that, my dear. I have a plan."
One more chapter to go. Like all stories, Pawn changed a lot from the initial idea. Would you guys like to know some of the things that were cut or changed?