Author's Note:

Hey, everyone! This chapter here is hot on the heels of some editing that I did to the first one, so if you want to see that, I'd recommend reading some of the earlier section of the initial release. If not, that's fine too. Anyways, this chapter is substantially different than the last- primarily concerning a different approach to exposition and description that I tried to make more focused on the character themselves. As you may guess, some feedback due to my past work helped with my realizing the need for this- although it was one thing that I myself was hoping to change.

As all those who witness the time difference between the publish date and the date of this chapter's release, you can see that I found the time to be productive despite a high work load in some summer courses that I am enrolled in. A lot of this was to do with how much I enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you all like reading it as well.

Fair warning, though: This piece does not contain the amount of action that those familiar with the setting shall expect- Not immediately, anyways. Bear with me, though, as I think that setup is just as important as the actual events, if not more so in many cases.

Okay, enough of my rambling. I hope you like this chapter, and I encourage you to follow, favorite and/or review if you did.

CHAPTER TWO: TREACHERY

Lazarus Research Station, Deep Space, Omega Nebula

1415 Hours Terran Coordinated Universal Time, Thursday, August 4th, 2185

Director Miranda Lawson cradled her forehead in her gloved hands, frustrated by the situation. One of the most important tests of her project had gone awry, nearly resulting in damage to its lone subject- Commander Shepard. The woman had been under the knife ever since she was recovered roughly three weeks after her demise, undergoing extensive efforts to reconstruct her, upgrade her- make her better than new. And all of that had almost been ruined due to her Chief Medical Officer's blundering.

"Wilson!" She snapped, uncovering her face to glare at the man. "I told you that she'd develop a resistance eventually, and now here we are. She could have killed herself, and then we'd have to start all over again!" The balding subordinate gave her a blank stare, an annoying action that he had started using more frequently with her.

"Well, how could I have known it'd wake her up? Nothing else we've done has come anywhere near bringing her out of comatose." Miranda huffed at his foolishness.

"You know that we have to plan for all possibilities," she scolded. "That's something I've been telling you since day one. For example," she stated, watching his expression grow into more of a glower behind his sanitation mask. "If anything that you do may have the possibility to excite the brain to consciousness, you compensate with a higher dose of barbiturates- especially if it's suspected that the subject could resist them. See, you have to be prepared."

"Well," he practically shouted, clearly flustered by her advice. "We didn't prep for surgery, now, did we?!" It took her half a second to realize what he was talking about, but then she concluded that he was referencing what she had told him about Shepard nearly rupturing her most recent cloned transplant liver. It was true, though. When the subject had woken up and started moving around, she stressed the sutures holding the organ in place. It hadn't yet healed, and massive internal bleeding was a possibility that they had only managed to avoid due to her timely action.

"That's beside the point, Brad! If you'd done your job, we wouldn't have had to worry about that in the first place!" He made a snort of disgust and became suddenly engrossed in his diagnostics terminal. This disrespectful behavior of his was infuriating to Miranda, and made her think- not for the first time- of having him replaced. That would be dealt with after Project Lazarus was concluded, however, as he happened to be a valuable asset himself. While being a generally frustrating underling to work with, he had his uses and was easily the most experienced of her general staff.

Regarding the unconscious form of her subject, Miranda decided that she needed to write a report on the incident to the Illusive Man. It was good for him to know what had happened, as well as what measures they were going to take against such a thing occurring again. Before she left the room, she instructed one of the orderlies to slightly increase the dosage of the barbiturate drip. No harm in ensuring asset security.

One elevator ride and two minutes of walking later, the Director wound up in her personal quarters in the station's Administration section. It was a nice place- it had to be for her to live in it for almost two years- and everything was kept just right within for it to be an ideal working environment to accompany her office. The only thing missing was her own quantum entanglement communicator, which would be much more convenient than having to go all the way to the resident device that just so happened to be located on the opposite end of the level. She was the only person who used it, anyway, and so what was the purpose of it being so far off?

She cleared her thoughts as she sat down at her desk, beginning work on the report. It wasn't anything complicated, but nonetheless she included recommendations for actions following the project- particularly involving staff choices. Other information that she touched on was how the mishap was going to affect the course of their work, as any more tests along the lines of that which resulted in the Commander's unexpected awakening had to be executed and monitored differently. It was even possible that they would have to forego the practice altogether, and resort to therapy following the subject's scheduled revival not but a month or so ahead.

The testing that it would potentially replace was meant to calibrate Shepard's brand-new biotic implants, which had to be adapted to her nervous system one way or another in order to work. The faulted trial from before had attempted to go about this via artificial stimulation of the subject's nerves with implanted electrodes, but if that was going to pose problems in the way of possibly waking her up, it might be preferable to pursue calibration after she was already healed from the various reconstructive procedures. This after-the-fact therapy would be less than desirable, however, considering what it involved- cooperation with aliens.

Now, Miranda had no particular hatred towards humanity's galactic neighbors, but she certainly didn't want to involve them in Cerberus' affairs. It had been hard enough to ask Liara T'Soni for help in recovering Shepard in the first place, but exposing an asari matriarch to Project Lazarus was surely worse. It could pose a security risk, if nothing else, and who could say that even the one handpicked by the Illusive Man himself could be trusted? One of them had already decided to follow Saren on a quest to annihilate the entire galaxy, so there was no real way to ensure that they were truly competent- no matter how old they were. Possibly-unfounded distrust aside, she simply didn't like to outsource her project's needs to others. She was confident that she could get done what was required with her own resources, but, of course, alternatives had to be considered. After a good while of writing, her report was complete and she sent it through to her superior. Sitting back for a moment, she allowed her mind to wander to that afternoon's incident once more.

It was obvious that something needed to be done considering the rather terrifying occurrence, but what it would be was unclear. It was probably a good idea to permanently increase the dosage for the medication keeping the Commander in her coma, but other measures had to be taken to prevent further problems if that didn't work. For them to have any chance of getting the calibration done on their own time, they had to be able to guarantee that Shepard could not get up again and hurt herself. Restraints would be in order. But what if, once her implants were already calibrated, she did wake up? That morning had shown the reality that she would be confused, possibly angry. From the trouble that she gave the orderlies even while heavily medicated, it could be much worse once her biotics were functioning. Perhaps it would be necessary to undertake preventative measures.

A kill-switch of sorts seemed most preferable, maybe something to interrupt the connection between her implants and her brain, or perhaps to completely prevent her from moving. This way, if something bad were to happen, she would be prevented from causing harm to herself or to others. In any event, the cybernetics managing her organs would keep them, and therefore her body, functioning properly even if her spinal connection was interrupted. No real harm- just a corrective surgery, and then she'd be good to go again. But this wouldn't be an option if they were to fit within the schedule organized by the Illusive Man, nor would it be a good idea to strip out and modify her brain implants specifically for the kill switch. Brain surgery was hard enough, even without having to worry about doing it over a dozen times again.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to go the chemical route. They had already installed the necessary hardware via the Illusive Man's request for Atlas Project-based augmentations. The performance enhancement chemical injectors could be used to flood Shepard with drugs to make her compliant, should it be necessary, or perhaps biotic suppressants or other substances depending on the situation. In addition to mitigating immediate problems, this could also be used in the long run to make her more agreeable to Cerberus' goals, which would make her more usable as an asset. As Miranda thought about it, her idea seemed to get better and better, eventually resulting in her writing out a whole document on the subject and possible methods by which to achieve the desired results. She was almost ready to submit it to the Illusive Man for review when she happened upon a realization.

From the very beginning of the Lazarus Project, the Cerberus leader had held the view that altering Shepard's personality was absolutely unacceptable. He had articulated his desire for her to remain just as she was before her death (on a mental level, at least), and had not wavered at all since. So, why would he ever allow her proposal to come to fruition? Regardless of the possible benefits that she saw in the behavior modification, it was of almost no likelihood that he would agree with her methods of asset security. Rather, he would prefer to bank on the Commander's gratefulness to be alive, alongside a few friendly faces, to keep her loyal. It had been Miranda's unspoken position for some time was that that was foolish (which the Illusive Man surely wasn't, but he did let his ideology get in the way of his better judgment at times), and she had come up with a way to make it work. If everything went well, she wouldn't even need to let him know.

Miranda drafted an order to her R&D section to set to work on a method to achieve the effects that she wanted. She was confident that they would complete it before the end of the allowable surgery period, which was in roughly two weeks. Two weeks to synthesize an injection, fabricate a specialized applicator and then incorporate it into Shepard's cybernetics- piece of cake. Mostly, it would depend on how fast the department could come up with a solution and deliver the product (the latter of which could most likely be developed from the cybernetics equipment already available on-station), with the installation being trivial in comparison considering the hundreds of individual times they had already cut Shepard open on the operating table. This had Miranda feeling quite comfortable with the prospects as she sent the order, and she ended that day feeling that she had set in motion what would ensure Cerberus' success in the future. With the potential of having humanity's greatest hero so firmly rooted to their cause, who wouldn't feel as she did?

Lazarus Station, Deep Space, Omega Nebula

0920 Hours Terran Coordinated Universal Time, Saturday, August 14th, 2185

Chief Medical Officer Bradley Wilson sat bleary-eyed in front of his terminal, coffee in hand as he read through a summary report of the night's events. The automatically generated document said much of the usual: Cybernetics fully functional, all organs operating perfectly (actually a newer trend with the most recent round of transplants) and just about nil brain activity. At least nothing had happened that would get the Ice Queen raving at him again.

Upon thinking of Miranda, his thoughts soured. All he really wanted at that point was for the project to conclude, and for him to finally be rid of the woman's constant nagging and condescension- plus a hefty payment from Cerberus for job completion, which was looking ever sweeter as the project deadline approached. If there was one good thing he could say about his superior, it was that she was organized in the extreme and had assured that they were going to make the schedule with no problems. As soon as Shepard was awoken (which, considering what he had seen earlier, would likely be a difficult experience), he would get a massive sum of credits dropped in his lap along with a do-whatever-the-hell-you-want-with-it-as-long-as-you-don't-spoil-OPSEC-or-die permittance. He'd be totally free for however long the Illusive Man desired to allow it, and then he would find himself on another job. He didn't have any way of knowing how long that period would be, but he supposed that he'd face that bridge when he crossed it.

Wilson decided to look at the Lazarus Project's schedule once more, imagining the various ways he'd spend his earnings once everything was wrapped up. The custom-tailored copy that he accessed had all of his various duties placed on it, and he was delighted to find that he had very little to do in the next few days. However, something was present that hadn't been there the night before.

It was an order for surgery, placed on the next afternoon and marked for "manual cybernetics inspection and maintenance." Why would that be necessary? All of the devices that the Lazarus Project medical staff had implanted Shepard with had been designed to last for decades, and were vetted for quality by top-tier bionics engineers before use. Considering that the setup had gone to plan and the readouts were perfect, what use was there in slicing her open again just to look? He needed to ask someone about it, but going straight to Miranda was not an option that he'd want to take. Instead, he called up Stephen Hurler- his equivalent in the Lazarus Cell's Cybernetics Research and Applications department. It took a moment for his colleague to pick up, and when he did Wilson was greeted with a yawn.

"Hey, Brad," the Chief Technician greeted sleepily. "It's been a while. What do you need?"

"Steve, did I just wake you up?" Wilson questioned. "Sure sounds like it."

"Yeah," the man replied. "Ice Queen gave me extended bed hours, would you believe it?"

"Well, what for? I can't imagine she'd just hand it to you."

"I'm surprised you didn't hear, honestly. She's had my whole department up for the last four days working on another injector system for Sleeping Beauty. It's totally separate from the Atlas stuff- don't know why- and supposed to go in sometime soon as well. You get an update?"

"Yeah, I did," the Medical Officer said, scrutinizing the order on his monitor. "But it says the surgery is 'maintenance.' The hell do you think that's about?"

"I don't know, but I can tell you what's going in with the cybernetics." This sure piqued Wilson's interest, and his colleague elaborated after a moment of waiting. "Okay, so I asked one of the Chem guys about it yesterday morning. He only told me a little bit, but from what I can gather the system's supposed to be mood regulating. It'll make her real agreeable, maybe even susceptible to conditioning if my conjecture's accurate. Miranda really wants this for 'asset security,' so expect her to be riding you like a kid pony to get it done." Wilson let out an exasperated sigh in response.

"Well, shit. Looks like things just got that much more complicated for me."

"So it appears."

"Yeah. Thanks for letting me know, Steve. I'll talk to you later." Wilson moved to end the call, but his colleague hung up first- likely eager to return to sleep. However, the Chief Medical Officer was about as far from it as he could get. What he had just learned was incredibly important, dangerous even.

He had nearly concrete proof that Miranda Lawson was stepping outside her bounds as Director of the Lazarus Cell.

Now, this likely wasn't something that anybody but himself and Miranda were aware of. The expectations and limitations that the Illusive Man had put in place were more privileged information, and the Director was officially the only one privy to that kind of knowledge. She was able to inform those under her command at her discretion, but considering that she had kept everything under wraps for the length of the project, one would expect that she was the only one who knew. That was not the case.

Unbeknownst to anyone but himself and a spare few, Wilson held an occupation outside of his official duties within the Lazarus Project. It was that of being the Illusive Man's personal contact within the overarching Cell (although there could very well be more, and he had no way of knowing). It was his job to inform the Cerberus leader of the various things going on throughout the course of the operation, giving him an alternate perspective versus what was and wasn't disclosed in the Director's reports. It was a way to keep her in check without her knowing, and as evidenced by the problem it was going to solve, it worked.

Wilson concluded that leaving his post so soon after work had started would be suspicious, and so he would have to wait until later to contact the Illusive Man. The next four hours went by at an agonizing crawl as he sat at his desk, unable to take his mind off of what was happening. He answered questions from his underlings, had a discussion over the future of cybernetics with one of his peers and even got a meeting request from Miranda slated for later that day. Through all of this, however, the question still remained in his mind about what would happen when he revealed the Director's plan to his superior. The Illusive Man was rumored to be unforgiving when it came to insubordination, but what would happen to one of his most senior officials at the apex of an immensely important project was anyone's guess. For all Wilson knew, she could get off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist- or, alternatively, disappear without a trace.

As the time ticked over to 12:30, it was time for lunch. Wilson swiftly got up from his desk and proceeded to the station's mess hall, grabbing his food and taking it into his cabin on the Staff Housing floor. He set it aside without another glance, however, as he wasn't there to eat. His personal computer's interface sprang forth at his prompting, a holographic screen coalescing in the air above his workspace to showcase his various resources. He opened up a command window, keying in a memorized string of letters and numbers that resulted in another application opening. This one was special, and would have been just about impossible to find in his storage unless you knew exactly what to look for.

The new display that popped up was simply an empty box with a cursor flashing on the upper left, no identifying titles or other information present. He entered a simple message:

[Need to speak to TIM. Important business to discuss.] The statement was being transferred securely through Lazarus Station's quantum entanglement communicator, and so there was absolutely no lag before it reached its destination- his superior's business handling staff. It wasn't exactly a direct line of communication, but it was close enough. Wilson quickly received a response.

[He is busy at the moment. Priority?] There were roughly fifty minutes on the clock until Wilson would be expected back at his station, and so he could likely stand to wait a little while. Despite what his information meant for the Lazarus Cell and Cerberus as a whole, it probably wouldn't take that long to go over it with his superior. Taking this into account, he elected to be humble.

[Medium.]

[Very well. You should be able to contact him in three hours.] Shit. That wasn't an option for his timeframe, and waiting until the afternoon probably wasn't the best idea considering the schedule for the operation. As such, he decided to mess up whatever plans his superior might have had for the next portion of the day.

[Not enough time, valuable information involved. Reclassify?] The person (or people) on the other end took a moment to reply, but when they did, he let out his breath.

[Affirmative. You have been rescheduled for direct communication in five minutes.]

Wilson acknowledged them, taking the opportunity to pull up the relevant information on his omni-tool and to grab a bite from his neglected meal. Within a short time, the screen flashed with an incoming voice message. Wilson hastened to insert an earpiece communicator, connecting it to his omni-tool and accepting the call.

"Operative Wilson," the Illusive Man opened, his rough voice holding a hint of annoyance. "I have just interrupted politics to hear what you have to say. I judge it's important?"

"Yes, sir, it is!" Wilson was incredibly nervous, but he tried not to show it as he spoke. "I've learned that Director Lawson is specifically going against your orders."

"How so? Has she wavered in her commitment to the project?"

"No, sir, I don't think so. Rather… I think she's going too far. She's trying to implant Shepard with some sort of mind control device- I just learned about it this morning." The Illusive Man waited to reply, likely mulling it over, and then returned with a question.

"Has she said why? I take it it has something to do with the scare during your neuroexcitation procedure."

"I'm not entirely sure, sir, but I think you're right. She seems to believe that Shepard could be dangerous once we wake her up, and so she wants to use the implant to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Well," the Cerberus Leader said, "you do know what I think about keeping Shepard the way she was, and so I won't pontificate. What you need to understand, however, is that you are now my prime asset in making sure that Lawson doesn't succeed." Wilson's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

"Wait, sir, what…what do you mean?"

"I mean that it's now your job to disrupt operations. Shepard is well healed by now, correct?"

"Um… Yeah, I guess. The actual no-surgery period is still in about five days, but it's been a while since Shepard was cut open and everything is in good shape." Wilson slowly got an inkling of what might possibly be his superior's idea, and became even more frightened by the circumstances. "Wait… You aren't wanting me to wake her up early, are you?"

"That remains to be seen," said the Illusive Man, doing very little to settle Wilson's nerves. "For now, I want you to return to your own business. I'll be having a mission profile transferred to you within the next few hours, along with any other information necessary for you to fulfill my goals. I trust that you will do what needs to be done."

"Yes, sir," Wilson said belatedly. The call cut, and he sank his head into his hands. Whatever his superior wanted him to do, it was probably going to incredibly risky- He had a humorless laugh at the thought of himself trying to push an unconscious Shepard out to the docking bay under a hail of gunfire. Rubbing his temples, he wallowed in thoughts of his poor prospects for a moment before deciding that he really couldn't help things by sitting around and feeling sorry for himself. Perhaps the Illusive Man would find a way for things to happen safely, and maybe even have Captain Taylor arrest Miranda. Boy, would that be a sight to see.

Wilson finished off his cold lunch, casting the remains into a waste receptacle as he stepped out of his room. It was a quick trip back to the Medical floor, where he spent the next two hours vegetating. Suddenly, his omni-tool chirped to alert him of a message. He hurried to activate his earpiece again, but then realized that it wasn't a voice or video call. Instead, it was all text and data. Wilson looked around him to ensure that no-one else was nearby (in a mess of workspaces, this was a problem), and once he knew that he could be discreet, he opened the message.

It was, indeed, the mission profile that the Illusive Man had had his teams draft up for him. Wilson read through the first section, which essentially told him what he already knew about how Miranda's goal of putting Shepard under mind control made the Cerberus leader unhappy. The next bit, however, was what made Wilson scared. The profile stated that drastic action would have to be taken to prevent the implantation, because if Wilson simply refused, someone more willing would likely take his place. If he cited the Illusive Man's orders, Miranda could easily discount him. There were a number of reasons why such approaches wouldn't work, and it all added up to Wilson needing to do something crazy.

That was where one of the attached files came in. It was a program that he was supposed to download to an OSD and transfer to Lazarus Station's security mainframe- in particular the bit of it that controlled the guard mechs. It would activate every single unit present, even those in networked storage (for emergencies), and turn the whole area into a no-go zone for the staff that was enforced with lethal measures. The only people exempt from this directive would be Wilson and Shepard, meaning that he was supposed to practically guarantee the deaths of all of his friends and coworkers. It was what the Illusive Man wanted, though, and he could bet that if the Cerberus leader was ruthless enough to hand him such a mission, violent housecleaning would likely happen no matter what he did. Indeed, the rumors must have been true.

The two remaining files in the package were both very obvious in use, one being an autopilot program for one of Lazarus Station's resident cargo transports (complete with sets of coordinates for FTL jumps and the like, although Wilson had no idea what they meant) and the other being a program for falsifying his personal ID. The included instructions explained that it would make his digital badge, which was data-linked to his omni-tool, display him as being Director Lawson. He could access whatever functions were permitted to her (all of them), and any security locks would automatically open at his prompting regardless of the reason for their presence. The only problem would be the mechs, which had facial-recognition software that would register that his face didn't match Miranda's. That was also provided for by some kind of virus that would make them give Wilson the go-ahead whenever they accessed the falsified ID records. It was all very complicated and out of his experience, but he thought he understood the gist of it.

With all of these items at hand and the orders laid out, it was Wilson's responsibility to make things happen. The Illusive Man had left it open as to how the operative would approach the escape (as nobody among the Cerberus leader's staff knew Lazarus Station's environment as well as he did), and so he would have to figure out when he would set the mechs loose and how to get Shepard through to the transport in one piece. While the entire situation sickened him with fear and prospective guilt, it was not without its challenge. This made the mission as exciting as it was nerve-wracking, and he wanted as much to complete it for the greater good as he did to save his own skin. It was the only way he could make it, after all- displeasing the Illusive Man was surely as much of a death sentence as getting shot up by mechs, if his limited experience with the character could show it.

Just as Wilson was beginning to piece together his plan, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. It startled him, and he swiveled around in his seat to see Eddie Greene, a bright young Reconstructive Therapy surgeon under his command, waiting for him.

"Sorry to bother you, sir," he said, making a tone and expression indicating that his business was less than pleasing. "The Director is requesting you in her office, says it's important." Wilson checked the clock on his omni-tool, and then realized that it was already time for their meeting- past it, actually. As he made to get up, the junior medical professional before him spoke again. "She sounds irritated, though, so look out. I guess you might have missed a couple of alerts or something." Wilson clapped him on the shoulder in thanks, grimacing as he strode off to meet the Ice Queen.

Lazarus Station, Deep Space, Omega Nebula

1840 Hours Terran Coordinated Universal Time, Saturday, August 14th, 2185

Miranda, despite her disappointment with Wilson, was relieved to see him appear outside her door. This didn't change the way that she was going to address him, however, because he still needed to learn responsibility. Also, she simply enjoyed toying with him.

"Come in, Bradley. You've spent enough time dawdling about, now, and we need to get to work." Predictably, this deepened the scowl that the Chief Medical Officer already had on his face. Miranda waited for Wilson to enter her office, and then directed him to a chair before her desk.

"I heard about the nature of this 'inspection and maintenance' you've ordered," the man stated, a bit of animosity creeping out through his tone as he settled into the seat. "And so I know it's really an implantation surgery. What could you gain from withholding that information from me until the last minute?" Unbeknownst to her peer, Miranda had labeled it the way that she did to prevent suspicion when the project schedule was officially updated. Exposure of her goals to the Illusive Man was the opposite of what she wanted, but her decision had apparently made some of her staff anxious. No worries, however, as she had already prepared an excuse.

"I wasn't intending to gain from it, Brad," she said innocently. "It is maintenance, after all, even if we are adding redundant injectors. I've been worried about how well Shepard can perform once we wake her up, and making sure her implants are totally functional before the healing period would help a lot with that- even if it is just by sight." Wilson let out a bit of a sigh though his nose, and seemed to lose a bit of his annoyed look.

"Yeah, well, just tell me the real deal next time. And what's this about the…conditioning serum? I'm not sure that's really necessary, Director." He really shouldn't have known about that. Had he asked the Chemical Resources department, too? Regardless, she could justify it easily.

"Think about it, we have no way of knowing whether or not Shepard will cooperate when we wake her. It's just a way to ensure there aren't any problems, but it's going to be more of a fallback than anything else."

"But if she doesn't agree with our cause, you'll make her? That really doesn't sit well with me, you know? Right to free thought, and all." He was beginning to sound annoyingly like the Illusive Man- bless his heart- who was still too moralistic for his own good at times (but who, ironically, was the mastermind of an organization best known for high-profile terrorism).

"Remember, our goal here is to deliver an asset that will play to the Illusive Man's desires. That means obedience, capability and survivability- hence the augmentations that we've developed for Shepard and the mood controlling drugs we're going to give her. She'll be everything he wanted out of this operation, you see?" Wilson looked like he was mulling it over in his head for a moment, and then gave her a slight nod.

"Okay. I don't entirely agree with you, but I do see your point. That doesn't mean that I like it, though- I just hope that those drugs won't be needed in the run of things."

"Don't worry," she told him, grateful that the discussion had gone the way it did. "It's only a precaution. I hope we won't need to medicate her in order to have her cooperation- she's supposed to be quite the personality."

"Yeah, so I've heard," Wilson agreed, apparently mollified. "Anyway, you wanted to talk about how we're going to run things tomorrow?"

"Yes. I assume that since you already know about the injectors, you are also aware of their placement?" The man shook his head.

"No, I only heard enough to get the gist. Are they intraarterial like the type we're using for the Atlas meds?"

"Yes, and installation will be roughly the same. It's nothing complicated, really, and we should be able to get everything done properly without hangups. What do you think?"

"It sounds good to me," Wilson said, his face remaining rather impassive. "If this is the last operation we're doing, I'm just glad to get it over with. The sooner that Shepard is alive and doing work, the better- we've already been waiting two years."

"Very well," Miranda stated, getting up from her chair. "I trust that you'll take care in meeting the schedule tomorrow morning? It's supposed to be a three-hour surgery with the inspection involved."

"I'll make the start time, but I have no idea how long the surgery will take." Wilson waved his hand dismissively, unintentionally (or intentionally) offending his superior. "We'll be careful, and if it takes a little longer than expected then that's just the way it is. This is already high-stakes work, and it pays not to be stupid." Slight rudeness aside, the CMO was correct. She sent him on his way, and then turned back to reflect on what had gone on.

The conversation had been a short one, which wasn't to be complained about, and they had gotten a lot accomplished. Wilson was much more agreeable than usual, which was great, and she was happy to finally be getting things in order for the completion of the Lazarus Project. Once it was over, and Cerberus had its crusading hero firmly in its grasp, then Miranda's job would shift to managing the great quest against the Collectors. Saying that it was going to be hard was most likely a vast understatement, but she was going to attempt positivity. She was nearly out the gate, after all, and all that would be left after the next day would be waiting for the results to come up. It would be the end to a fine project, but its coming was all too welcome in her mind. Taking this into account, she retired early to her cabin that night and slept peacefully.

Lazarus Station, Deep Space, Omega Nebula

0830 Hours Terran Coordinated Universal Time, Saturday, August 15th, 2185

Wilson fumbled to turn off his alarm, not wanting to rise from his bed to start such a deplorable day. He hadn't slept a wink as far as he could tell, and felt ill as he made the effort of convincing his body to move out from his covers and into his uniform. Ever since he had given a show to Miranda and learned what he needed (and in so doing, failing to find a way to make her reconsider), he had been terribly afraid of what was ahead. He had foregone dinner the previous night, unable to eat, and felt awfully jittery as he made his way out to the mess hall to force down a breakfast. He'd need his energy if he was going to be doing what was expected, and so he saw it as a good choice even if he didn't feel able.

Immediately after arriving in the expansive compartment housing Lazarus Station's eating area, Wilson regretted going there. Several dozen staffers were congregated there, eating, talking, and laughing. Who was he to condemn these people? It wasn't a question that he hadn't already asked himself many times, but nevertheless it came up again as he observed his coworkers. They hadn't done any wrong of their own, and it was senseless to think otherwise- Illusive Man be damned. Out of this, though, he still had to acknowledge that everyone under Miranda's command would likely be purged anyway- and Cerberus wasn't the type of organization to lay off employees in anything other than body bags. He wasn't exactly the executioner there, but it damn sure felt like it.

The CMO stuffed down a tasteless tray of sausage and biscuits, the bland and uninteresting meal doing little to take his mind off of what was soon to occur. He was going to have to go through the motions for the next half-hour or so in getting things organized for the surgery, and then strike when it was just about to happen. He had prepared everything already, gone over his instructions several times and verified that he had a proper plan in order. It just might work, but that didn't make him feel any better for murdering his fellows due to the Illusive Man's disapproval. Maybe after he was finished with his mission and got paid, he would try to find some way out that didn't involve getting a bullet through his head. That remained only an aspiration, though, as he disposed of his trash and left the mess hall for the operation wing.

The ward that Wilson had selected for the operation was close to that floor's elevator access point, and already had everything in it that was needed for the supposed surgery- Shepard included, as he had had her transferred in with the equipment during the previous evening. This didn't really leave much else to do, and so he assigned the various orderlies there to check and re-check everything, clean instruments and do other make-work to keep them busy as he finalized his plans. Twenty minutes before the operation was supposed to begin, Wilson had everyone leave to "take five" before surgery prep. As the other men and women would have been using the restrooms and such, the CMO set to work.

Wilson didn't have much time before his coworkers would be returning, and so he had to hurry. He set Shepard's intravenous drip to wind down its barbiturate dosage in five minutes so as to allow her to come out of her artificial coma. From what he knew already, once the drugs stopped coming she'd likely emerge from it fast. The man also loosened her restraints to the point of being inconsequential, and so she'd be able to slip out of them once she woke up. Wilson had no way of knowing how she would be feeling when this happened, though, so he would have to make sure that he got back to the surgery ward with speed in order to make sure that she didn't get herself hurt. This ideally wouldn't happen, but as a precaution Wilson locked the door as he left using Miranda's command authentication.

It was a bit of a trip to the networking room from the operation wing, but he managed to make good time regardless. The place was one that he was reasonably familiar with despite never having gone there before, as every now and then he passed by it on the way to other things. Living for two years on a small space station could make one familiar with just about every part of it, regardless of whether it was their business or not. Two of the ubiquitous LOKI mechs were guarding the front door to the compartment, and were the only things around for a ways due to how the IT area was generally rather empty. Both of the man-sized automatons stared straight ahead until Wilson got close, at which point they both snapped their heads toward him unnervingly.

[Miranda Lawson, Director.] One of the machines assessed, evidently accessing his falsified ID. [Clearance accepted, you may proceed.] He stepped past them and towards the door, which automatically opened as he approached. The inside of the room was dimly lit, and it was packed with consoles that interfaced with the station's communications and data processing systems. One of them pertained to the networking hub that connected the security mechs together, and it only took a moment of searching before he found it. It was a small, dark-gray box that didn't look much like the large server rack that he expected. Then again, it didn't have to handle high-traffic communication like many other systems did- It was just linking around fifty some-odd mechs into a reactive network, nothing major.

Wilson strode up to the console that was next to the hub, finding a data port that was normally supposed to be used for software updates. That was basically what he was doing, though, so he guessed it was rather fitting. The Chief Medical Officer opened one of his hip pockets, retrieving an OSD to which he had downloaded the proper files. He inserted it into the slot, and the used the holographic display that sprang up above the console to access the drive. A short while later, a command prompt appeared:

RUN PROGRAM? Y/N:

Wilson almost didn't press the button that would start it all, but he was far beyond the point of giving up. He'd made his decision, everything had fallen together properly, and it would be his head (perhaps literally) if he gave up. It was make or break. He leaned forward, finger hovering over the key for a moment, and pressed it.

ENTER/Y

ACCEPTED. RUNNING PROGRAM.

At first, Wilson didn't notice any kind of a difference. Then, the door behind him flew open and the two security mechs marched in. In a startling moment of clarity, Wilson realized that he hadn't reset his ID and that the mechs thought that he was on the list of prohibited persons. He gasped and backed up into the console, unable to move as the machines drew their handguns and opened fire.