Shepard leaned against the airlock door, his arms crossed as his mind raced with all the different scenarios.
'She was poisoned,' he began, 'It must've happened this morning – it would explain her behavior. But why didn't she tell me? And by who? Someone from my past? Or her's? And why take the data?'
He ran a hand over his scalp, 'A bargaining chip maybe? Data for the antidote? But if that was the reason – then she could've just asked me for it. She would've known I'd have given it to her without hesitation. Or hell, she would've gone to the lab herself – tried to concoct an antidote based on her own blood sample.'
'There had to be a reason to prevent her from doing such,' his mind went through the entire day, trying to find any clue. He was drawing blanks until his mind settled on when she had said goodbye to him. That look she had given him – that final kiss.
'Me,' the realization came over him, 'I was the reason why she couldn't do it. She couldn't do it because something would happen to me – but what? What could have her so worried that she wouldn't even tell me?'
Shepard felt like he was on the verge of figuring it all out when Smith and Morgan finally joined him in the airlock. He glared at Smith as she hesitantly stepped forward, "You're late."
Morgan held up a hand, "It was my fault, Shepard. I couldn't find the back-up medical pack and had Smith help me look for it."
Shepard raised a brow at Smith, whose eyes were staring straight at the floor with the intensity that if maybe she stared hard enough, her eyes could drill a hole out of the predicament she was in. Shepard nodded slightly at Morgan before turning and activating the decontamination. It was a quick process – and within no time they were walking down the streets of the Presidium, trying to find any clue as to where Miranda might have gone.
They searched all of the places that her and Shepard had frequented during their previous visits and anywhere close, but there was no trace of her. Shepard wracked his brain over and over for any clue that might give away where she would be – something she would've hinted at – but deep down he knew she hadn't left one. If his life really was in danger, she would willingly sacrifice herself for him and she wouldn't want him to risk himself to save her.
He cursed under his breath once they finished checking the last place Shepard was familiar with on the Presidium. He paced in small circles, his eyes gazing over the crowds in hope that she might be there. His heart sunk when he realized it was in vain.
Morgan and Smith exchanged anxious glances as Shepard rubbed his temple. Catching their exchange in his peripheral, he realized that each second they wasted could cost Miranda dearly.
"Come on," he said firmly, starting his march towards the Wards, quickening his pace until they were moving at a slow run. With the elevator down to C-Sec being the closest one to them, they had it in their sights within minutes and boarded it. Shepard stood in front, facing the elevator doors, as Smith and Morgan stood just behind him on either side. As the lift descended slowly, Morgan turned his head to Smith;
"So…"
"Shut up," Smith said angrily, her earlier reaction to being accused of treachery having turned slowly to anger.
Morgan was taken aback by the sudden brashness of his coworker, "Well fine then, just trying to be friendly…"
Shepard's head turned slightly, "Be quiet, both of you."
The doors opened just as Shepard returned his gaze forward. They exited the elevator and headed down the hall, running up the stairs that lead to the main floor of the Wards. Taking a minute to take in his surroundings, Shepard tried once more to see if Miranda was there – waiting.
'Of course it's not that easy,' he thought, his heart sinking once more.
Having no real idea of where to go or what to do, Shepard and the team began wondering aimlessly through the crowd. He double-checked every brunette they passed, but it was never her. He was becoming so frustrated that he could hardly think when a familiar site caught his eye – a salarian wearing an awfully familiar scientist coat.
Morgan noticed him too, crossed his arms, and cocked a brow in curiosity, "what the hell?'
The salarian stumbled out of the entrance of Flux – and approached him at a lively place, though he nearly fell over a numerous amount of times, and made an asari blush brightly when he "bumped" into her.
"Pardon me," he half-slurred, "Didn't see you. Incorrect. Saw you," he pointed at her then waved his hands around his head in big flourishes, "Motor functions temporarily… impended. Unable to… can't remember… train of thought," he stood there, his mouth agape for a few minutes before shrugging, "Oh well."
The asari stood there, astounded at the salarian's brazen and bizarre behavior as he staggered towards Shepard.
"Mordin?" Shepard asked, his face filled with mixed emotions of amusement, confusion, and worry.
A wide smile appeared on the scientist's face, "Yes. Visiting… Kirahe," he raised his arms in the air as a mock serious expression overcame his face. Imitating Kirahe's voice, he bellowed, "Our influence stopped the… things. With four… but!" he let out a belch, "We held the line!"
He doubled over in laughter, nearly falling on his face, but Shepard lunged forward and caught him. Mordin grabbed his hands as he tried to steady himself, and Shepard felt him place an object in his pocket. For a second, their eyes met – and Shepard saw that he was stone sober.
'What is going on?'
Shepard stood up straight and slipped his hand into his pocket, but Mordin stopped him – giving him a stern look before standing back up – continuing his act and stumbling around.
"Mordin, you should return to the Normandy and sober up – quickly," he began, "Miranda's in trouble – EDI will give you the details when you arrive."
Mordin nodded sluggishly, "Can count on me, Shepard. Wouldn't trust anyone but me – if I were you,' he emphasized the last part of the sentence, "For something as… delicate as this."
Shepard's eyes squinted in acknowledgement of the subtle message as he nodded. Mordin, stumbled around, and began his "drunken" trek towards the Normandy. Shepard turned his gaze towards Morgan and Smith, figuring out a way to get them out of his hair while he examines the small item in his pocket.
"We're not going to make any progress searching like this," he said, "Smith – check out Flux. Morgan, check out the med clinic and see if the resident doctor has seen anything. I'm going to check out the upper and lower Markets. Back here in five – understood?"
They nodded, "Yes, sir."
"Good - move out."
They separated – each going to their respective posts. The moment Shepard entered the Lower Markets, however, he made sure to find himself a small alley – and dug out of his pocket the small item Mordin had slipped in there.
It was a small earpiece – but Shepard recognized it immediately – it was the earpiece his former team had used during their missions. Small, out-of-date, Alliance grade communications. He took out the current one that was nestled in his ear – and replaced it with the old one, and immediately a familiar voice entered his head.
"Hello, Shepard," Liara said softly.
"Liara – if anyone else had this, I would've been awfully suspicious."
"Well suspicious is something you can afford to be right now. Some interesting information came my way and I thought it'd be very important material to share with you."
"It better be good, Liara – I'm not exactly in the best of situations."
"I'll be swift then. I noticed your request for a skeleton crew a last week to Anderson."
"How di-"
She cut him off, "And me being curious, I went over all the files of each of the people designated to replace your staff. Nothing out of the ordinary, obviously - seeing as how I'm sure you would've noticed something strange long before I did."
"A couple of days ago, however, I found out another interesting piece of information. According to one of my contacts on Omega, there was a body of an Alliance soldier found there roughly the same time your request was approved by Anderson. It being Omega – the news didn't travel fast, if it travelled at all."
"What are you getting at, Liara?"
"The body was identified three days ago – it was the body of Servicemen Christopher Morgan."
Shepard paused, unsure of how to handle this information, "Are you positive?"
"Shepard – my business is information. While deception is something I can be good at, false information is something I do not tolerate. As soon as I found out, I sent Mordin a message – since he was the only one of your current crew within the vicinity of the Normandy. He understood what needed to be done – and my contact confirmed when he made the drop. Now, I'm not exactly sure what this means, Shepard – but I just thought you needed to know. I have no clue who hired him or why, but the Christopher Morgan on your ship is not the real one."
Shepard let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple, "Thank you, Liara – you're the best."
"I-.." he could hear her pause, "You're welcome, Shepard. Stay safe."
The comm channel clicked close and Shepard removed the earpiece, placing it back into his pocket. He then looked down at the prototype weapon on his hip and slowly started piecing things together as he started walking back to the meeting point.
'Smith never stole this item, Morgan planted it. That explains why she was caught so off-guard by it. Is this connected to Miranda?' He paused at the top of the stairs leading back to the main floor, 'Has to be. It would explain why she couldn't tell me anything – if she did, he must've been ordered to take me out. But why? And by who?
He remained stunned at the revelation about the man he thought was Morgan. It was hard for him to believe that he had fallen into his trap so easily. He had almost reached the vendor's booth in the center of the room when Smith appeared at the bottom of the stairs. At first Shepard was confused, but then he noted the look of terror on her face and the assassin appeared behind her.
'Close enough to hold her at gunpoint,' he noted.
He approached them with the prototype gun ready. As he closed in, Smith mouthed the word "gun" to Shepard and her eyes motioned at the assassin's left hand which was hidden behind her back. Not needing more confirmation than that, he paused a few feet from them.
"Let her go," he demanded.
The assassin sneered. "Why would I do that? She's my leverage. I knew you'd gotten wise to me when you had us split up."
Shepard raised his gun at the assassin – and was met with laughter.
"Go ahead and use that, Shepard. I hope you don't mind electrocuting the both of us though." He pulled Smith closer to him.
Realizing the truth in his words, Shepard cursed under his breath and lowered the weapon. Smith's eyes went wild as she misinterpreted his actions. She thought he had given up. Before Shepard could register her change in expression she slammed her head back, making impact with Morgan's nose. She snatched the prototype from Shepard's hands then turned and fired at the assassin. Volts of electricity leaped from the weapon, but they didn't head toward the assassin. Instead, they surrounded the gun itself and sent waves of electricity up Smith's arm. It wasn't enough to kill her, but it was still powerful enough to incapacitate. She cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Before she had even hit the ground, the assassin was running in the direction of what used to be Chora's Den.
Shepard quickly kneeled down to check on Smith. She was hurt, but conscious.
"I'll be okay," she said weakly. "Just shoot that bastard for me."
He nodded once and got to his feet withdrawing his pistol as he watched the assassin disappear through the door. He ran after him with only one thing on his mind.
-------------------
The assassin passed through the doors of the abandoned night club and immediately saw the body of a woman on the ground about 20 feet away. Cautiously he approached her with his pistol drawn when a voice interrupted him from the path to his right.
"You were supposed to take care of Shepard and then meet me here for your payment," the voice said coldly.
The assassin opened his mouth in protest as he started to turn, but he was interrupted by the pistol shot that tore through his throat. Choking on his own blood, he brought his hands to his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. He heard footsteps as he fell to his knees, but he was too weak to turn and face his executioner.
"Here's your payment," the voice said.
The assassin felt something cold and hard press against his temple.
"…With interest."
He never heard the second gunshot.