A/N: Sorry for the overly long hiatus. Was sick and out of work for several days. I should be back on track now. Enjoy!
Also, warning…minor smoochies
Shepard woke in the semi-dark, her fingers lightly touching the still tender flesh of her bruised throat. The doctors had fixed her cracked hyoid bone, but the bruising and much of the soft tissue damage had to resolve on its own. Even with steroids and anti-inflammatories, her throat felt like it was on fire.
It was not the discomfort that had awakened her, however, and her eyes snapped open expecting to see the assassin looming over her, her hand still clamped around her throat.
Sitting up a little, Del brushed back her hair with a hand and glanced at the clock. Just after two am ship time. Though the evacuation and containment efforts at San Francisco were ongoing, she had been removed from that particular duty in light of the attack and her injury. Hackett had her brought back to the Orizaba along with 'Alyssa Tripp's body, and she had planned to do the autopsy of it at 6. It was clear now, however, that she would be getting no more sleep.
Going into the small bathroom, she was all right through her quick shower. At the sink, however, she broke down, gripping the stainless steel basin like a lifeline as she hung her head and struggled against painful sobs.
The woman had nearly killed her.
Shepard had killed her.
She could still hear the pistol go off, the softness of the sound testament to how close she'd been to losing consciousness…and her life. The hot splash of blood over her hand had been far closer, more real. If she closed her eyes, Del could still see that final shot, the one that had landed her attacker lifeless on the floor.
With a few deep breaths, she got herself under control. She doesn't deserve it, Del. Doesn't deserve your tears. She tried to kill you. All those people you saw suffering and dying, frightened…those are the ones you have to concentrate on, to help. Those people are her fault as well, at least partially. She doesn't deserve your goddamn tears.
Liara and the others were still in San Fran, helping with evacuations at the moment. When they returned, they'd need information on what to do next- where Osco had gone, what she was up to, where she might strike next, and how to stop this goddamn plague. Shepard was determined to have at least one of those answers for them when they came back.
Dressed and composed, she left the small guest room and headed toward the infirmary where the assassin's body was being stored. The chief medical doctor was a bit surprised to see her, insisting on doing a scan to make sure she was all right, before he conceded to her request and drew the body from cryo-storage.
Shepard had done thousands of autopsies and necropsies over the course of her career- both professional and academic. She had long ago learned how to remain clinically detached. Fortunately, despite her ordeal, that talent didn't fail her as she started her examination of the assassin's body.
Six hours later, an exhausted Liara walked into the infirmary to find a whole team clustered quietly around Del, who sat at a console. None of them were even looking at the assassin's corpse, still draped out over the biobed with a sterile energy curtain keeping it contained. The tension in the air was all but palpable.
Curious and concerned, Liara walked over, but almost the moment she started to speak, one of the medics suddenly whooped, flinging his hands up in the air. The others quickly responded in kind, cheering and hugging each other as the chief medic suddenly pushed through them and touched a comm, speaking animatedly. With the rest of the din, Liara could not make out what he was saying.
Moving through the group to Shepard, she saw the woman was not celebrating as the others were. She was, in fact, sitting back in her seat, an expression of almost glassy-eyed non-focus on her face. Touching her shoulder, Liara crouched at her side.
"What is it, Del? What is going on?"
Shepard blinked, looking at the asari a moment as if she'd never before seen her face. Then she spoke, her voice still slightly hoarse.
"I think I just cured the PMD…"
"What? You…are you sure? How?"
"With PMD," Shepard replied. At the asari's confused look she looked back at the console, pulled up some information. "I did a full autopsy on the assassin's remains. Her odd blood samples were more than correct…she's a biosynthetic copy of a human being."
"So she was a fabrication?"
"Yes, and no. This kind of tech blows even the PMD away. Every organ of her body- tissue, blood, bone, marrow- all is a biologically engineered and synthetically enhanced replication of the real thing. But we've identified her. Alyssa Tripp was merely an alias, one of many. Her real name is Luka Vuless- she's a known assassin on the Alliance's radar and has been working freelance for at least ten years. Her fingerprints and retinal scans bear it out. This is the file photo they have of her."
She pulled up an image. A live version of the dead woman behind them appeared, the image taken in some park or other outdoor area. She was small in the image, which had been taken from quite a distance, but Del swiftly pulled in to see her face. "Notice anything?"
"Her eyes are not so intense in color," Liara said with a frown. "And she looks more…"
She could not put a word to it. There was some fundamental but incredibly vague difference between the woman in the photo and the body behind her- an aura that could be sensed but not quantified.
"Yes. More…real? Human? Natural? I can't peg it down either."
"So Osco somehow made a biosynthetic copy of the real assassin, very near to lifelike yet with slight giveaways."
"That's what I'm guessing…but why? And where's the real Luka? Alive? Dead? I can tell you for a fact that woman lying dead over there is the same one from Purdue. I knew it the moment I saw those eyes- eyes the real Luka does not have."
"Perhaps the real Luka is dead as well, leaving Osco to make this copy. We will have no real answer to that mystery until we find Osco- I am more interested in your cure for the PMD. You were able to fabricate it from Luka's body?"
"No, she's immune to the PMD because of the synthetic nature of her cells- the PMD cannot replicate in her DNA because it's not really DNA any more. But it got me thinking, and realizing how stupid I have been. I should have seen this ages ago."
She leaned forward and drew up more information, opening a simulation and talking as it played out. It showed the PMD taking over the DNA of non-human rabbit blood cells and then mutating itself to match.
"PMD by its very nature is programmable DNA," Shepard said. "Osco programmed it to act as it does. And anything that can be programmed-"
"Can be reprogrammed," Liara said.
"Yes, almost. The plague PMD is set, we can't take a sample of it and reprogram it…but a basic form of PMD can be generated and programmed by us- when introduced into a host system it can sample that host's natural DNA and replicate it. Then, it will infiltrate the hostile PMD and any infected cells- just as the plague infiltrates the host cells- and reprogram it to the host's own unaltered DNA. Just as the plague transforms itself into animal or plant cells to self-erase, the good PMD will prompt it to change into healthy, normal human cells and not only erase it, but repair any damage its caused along the way. I ran the simulation, and provided the infected host isn't in an advanced stage of mutation or brain degradation, the good PMD should completely eradicate the plague and actually heal the host from any damage it caused. Of course, we need to test it first- "
Liara looked at her. "How long will it take you to be able to test it?"
"That's the thing," Shepard said tiredly. "Osco formulated the PMD with that advanced tech she found. She wouldn't have been able to do it otherwise. In order to create my own sterile batch of PMD waiting to be programmed…I need the same tech. I need the black ship. Its records and equipment contain what Osco used to create her plague. I need to follow the same steps, create my own-"
She broke off as Hackett came striding in, zeroing in on them. Shepard rose from her chair, Liara straightening beside her.
"Is it accurate?" He asked without preamble. "You have found a cure for this damned plague?"
"Tentatively, yes, sir," Shepard said. "However I lack the tech to be able to actually fabricate it-"
"What do you need?"
"She needs access to the black ship," Liara told him. "Without its advancements creating the cure will be impossible."
"I will have it moved immediately."
"It's in possession of the Council now, isn't it? Will they allow that?" Shepard asked.
"To put a stop to the plague before it reaches their home worlds?" Liara said, glancing at her. "I think they will be accommodating."
"They'll move it, if they have any interest in keeping treaty with the Alliance," Hackett said, matter-of-fact. "I will contact them now, request the ship be brought to Tuchanka."
"Tuchanka?" Shepard asked, puzzled. "Why Tuchanka? Why not here?"
Hackett paused and looked at her, then at Liara. "You two haven't heard," he said a moment later.
"No, I am afraid we have not, Admiral."
"Heard what?"
"A missile similar to the one that struck San Francisco impacted on Tuchanka three hours ago. The krogan don't have cities per se, but it struck near one of the most populous areas. The Orizaba must remain here until our own disaster is fully contained, but you'll be able to take the Aswa to rendezvous with Council forces and the black ship at Tuchanka."
"We should leave immediately then," Liara said, squeezing Del's shoulder again before she nodded. "I will notify the others and prepare to get underway. Doctor, I will see you aboard."
As she left, Del felt her head spin. "Tuchanka? That makes no sense. Why would she hit Tuchanka?"
"You know more about her motivations than I do," Hackett told her.
"Her next step should have been to hit a major galactic hub, spread the PMD as far across the galaxy as quickly as she could by making it all but impossible to contain. The krogan don't like anyone but krogan on their home world- detonating there gives her all but the lowest odds for it spreading the way she wants. It makes no sense…"
"Perhaps it was not an intended target," Hackett said. "Perhaps the detonation was an accident, or the missile went off course. At any rate, I need to get on the horn to the Council to move the black ship and you need to head to the Aswa."
He held out his hand and she blinked at it before reaching out and gripping it. He nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. There are about a thousand medals waiting to be pinned on you if this cure of yours works, and no doubt endless grants to pursue any field of medicine or research you may desire."
"Right now, my only desire is to get through this alive and with as few casualties as possible- but thank you, Admiral."
Bette had been cleared through quarantine, no trace of infection and no physical ailment save exhaustion and dehydration. She had been moved out of the quarantine zone, waiting with dozens of other cleared civilians to be ferried out to various safe locations.
Sam had remained with the others to work, but when Liara had called them to return to the Orizaba, she'd asked for permission to go to the refugee center instead.
It was well into early morning now, and most of the refugees were sleeping. Bette was not- instead, the therapist was standing nearly at the door, holding a pair of coffees. Sam lifted her brows as she spotted her, smiling as she walked closer.
"Expecting someone?" she asked.
Bette smiled slightly and passed her one of the cups. "I was. You."
"How did you know I would come?"
The look Bette gave her was sardonic. "You came halfway across the galaxy to save my sorry ass," she said. "I don't think it's a hard stretch to imagine you'd stop by here and say goodbye."
Feris smiled tiredly, sipped at the coffee. Bette studied her face gently a moment, then said, "Is there going to be more of this?"
Sam didn't need to ask to know she was referring to the nightmare of San Francisco. She shook her head a little. "I can't say."
"Classified."
"Most of it. I'm sorry, Bette."
"It's your job," she replied. "Comes with the territory, Sam. I just…"
"I know," she said, and set the coffee aside. "Hard enough wondering if I'll come back on the good days, then you throw in this-"
"You'd better come back," Bette said firmly. "You stop whatever it is causing this, you make whoever is behind it pay, and you get your ass back here. I'll be damned if I'm a widow before we even get married."
"Hey." Sam stepped forward, lightly brushing a hand over Bette's hair. "Course I'll be back. Doc will figure this all out, Liara, Ash and I will kick whatever asses need be kicked, and I'll be back knocking on your door again before you know it. I'll even bring you a cheesy souvenir."
Bette set her own coffee aside, before sliding her arms around the marine's waist. "Oh really? One of those 'my girlfriend saved the universe and all I got was this lousy t-shirt' type souvenirs?"
"Something like that." Feris grinned, then ducked and kissed her, hands lifting to gently cup her face. As it broke she softly said, "I am so glad that you're all right…"
"I-" Bette began, before Sam's omni-tool suddenly chirped. Stepping back with an apologetic look, the marine accessed the call.
"This is Feris."
{Sam, Liara. I need you to return to the Aswa immediately. We are departing in twenty minutes.}
Sam let out a breath. "On my way."
She switched off the omni-tool and looked apologetically at Bette. "They must have found something. I have to go."
Bette nodded tiredly, then reached out and took hold of her again. "Yes, you do," she said softly. "You be safe, ok? I'll be waiting."
It would take them nearly sixteen hours to reach the krogan DMZ and Tuchanka, even at the Aswa's speeds. They departed before Hackett confirmed the Council's reply regarding the black ship- to Del's minor surprise they agreed to have it moved to Tuchanka orbit with a small flight of Turian vessels as an escort-slash-guard. The incredible technology the ship offered was such the Council dared not risk losing it, and while the krogan did not have their own vessels, tensions remained tight enough between them and the Council races that the latter were taking no chances.
Though Miranda had been very badly hurt and nearly killed in their first jaunt to the ship, the Orizaba surgeons had done good work and she was well on her way to recovery. Enough on her way, in fact, that she insisted on going along. Liara balked at that; they'd only needed her to get them through Omega Four. That had been successfully done and as far as she was concerned, Lawson was a free (if rather infuriating) woman they had no further use for.
Still, time was of the essence and she could waste none of it arguing. Reluctantly and with no small amount of irritation, she agreed, and the healing human woman was transferred back to the Aswa's infirmary and Dr. Chakwas' care.
With nothing left to do at the moment but rest (and having a distinct lack of rest for the previous two days), Liara retired to her cabin. Showering, she dressed in a loose white shift and had a glass of wine, putting on some soft music. Exhausted as she was, she was still taut with tension and needed to relax.
It seemed that relaxation was not to be. Barely had she taken her first sip than her door buzzed.
"Come!" she called with slight irritation. The door instantly parted, Shepard striding through. The human woman looked just as exhausted as Liara felt, the dark marks of the still angry and healing bruises on her throat in stark contrast to the weary pallor of her face. Her brows were knit in that perplexed way she had when chewing at a particularly heavy piece of intellectual conundrum.
"Captain, I think I know why-" she began, before her dark brown eyes actually lifted to the asari and she jolted to an abrupt halt. The shift was almost as long as a gown, but Del had never seen her in anything other than her fatigues or her hard suit. Her cheeks flared red and she cleared her throat, glancing aside. "Sorry, I…wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to disturb you-"
"If you were a disturbance I would not have asked you in," Liara replied, bemusement on her face. "You should be resting."
"I-I know," Shepard replied. She started to fiddle with the hem of her shirt, seemed to realize what she was doing, and clasped her hands behind her back. "So should you. I can come back in the morning-"
"Nonsense. You clearly came with a purpose. Come and sit down, have some wine, and tell me what it is you wish to tell me."
She poured another glass of wine as Shepard moved to sit down on the small sofa in the corner of the room. Liara handed her the wine and then sat down nearby. Shepard took a sip but barely seemed to taste it.
"I think Osco is on Tuchanka," she said at last. Liara lifted a brow, sitting forward intently and setting her own glass aside.
"What is your reasoning?"
"Her sending her second missile to Tuchanka makes no sense," Shepard said. "It makes as little sense as sending that assassin to the middle of a highly guarded quarantine zone to take me out. She'd have known she would be handing me a treasure trove of highly advanced biosynthetics if Luka failed. Why would she do that?"
"She is insane."
"Yes, but still incredibly smart. I've been wracking my brain and honestly, I don't think she sent Luka. I think Luka went of her own volition. I think she found out or at least suspected that I hadn't died back on Purdue and the professional in her didn't like it. She didn't like that she hadn't made sure. So she took it upon herself to make sure…without Osco's knowledge."
"But Tuchanka? Why would she release the missile in the exact place she was hiding?"
"For that very reason- because she was hiding there. She knows we'd expect her to be worlds away from any impact of the PMD, so the last place we'd actually look for her is where one of the missiles detonated. It's the only answer I can come up with as to why she set it off there and not at a galactic hub. Hitting Tuchanka is exactly contrary to her purposes of spreading the PMD across the galaxy. All it would do is infect the krogan. The world would be quickly and fairly easily quarantined, and that'd be that."
Liara focused inward a moment, turning this over in her mind. "Perhaps…but she knows you and the way you think- and I know strategy. Truthfully, this smells of a trap to me, more than mere camouflage."
"Oh?"
"She knew you'd question the viability of the target, and knows enough about how you think to reasonably expect this conclusion. She knows if we thought we had discovered her hiding place we'd send an army in after her, swarm the planet with Council forces set to take her down."
"On the krogan home world? They'd take some serious offense at that. It could spark a war."
"Perhaps, but the krogan are also dying of this plague and may cooperate if it is known we may be able to help. Also, when you weigh your options, a war with the krogan still is preferable to an incurable, incredibly fatal plague sweeping the known galaxy. "
Shepard stared at her. "Then if you're right, Osco is prepared to take down an entire army. She must be confident she can destroy them."
"Or she wishes to go out in a blaze of glory."
"No, she won't do that until she's absolutely sure she's achieved her aims. I'm not convinced she's done that. So…then we have quite the problem on our hands. Do we stay back and avoid the potential trap, and risk Osco's escape…or do we send in the troops and hope for the best."
"Or do we do neither?" Liara said thoughtfully. Del studied her.
"Neither?"
The asari shook her head. "It will take some careful consideration. To our advantage is your potential cure. Osco will not know you have developed your theory of programming PMD yourself to eradicate her plague. That will be to our benefit."
"I don't know-"
"I refuse to believe that there is not a way to out-maneuver or out-think her…not even her," Liara said, a bit more sternly than she'd meant. "I do not care how intelligent she is, no one is infallible and no one can see all ends. There is a way and we will find it."
"O-of course we will."
She looked down into the depths of the wine in her glass, and after a moment of silence looked up again. Liara was looking at her with a strange expression…one that made Shepard feel slightly self-conscious again.
"…what?"
Liara said nothing, only reached out and ever so gently traced her fingers along the edge of the bruises on Del's throat. Her touch was light as a feather, clearly aware that any pressure there might cause pain. Her eyes seemed glassy and far away, and somehow she looked softer than Shepard could ever remember seeing her.
Setting her wine down, Del reached up and took Liara's hand, lowering it from her neck. "I'm ok," she said quietly, enfolding the asari's hand in her own.
Liara met her eyes and Del remembered what she'd said in the hanger back on that snowy moon.
I do not want to care for you.
As if remembering this for herself, Liara's hand began to pull away. The moment it was in motion Del gripped it tighter, not allowing her to draw back. Though the asari was far stronger than the lowly human geneticist, she did not continue to try and pull free. After a moment, her aqueous blue eyes met Shepard's dark brown again. She looked remarkably childlike, almost bashful.
Hardly the most suave and charming woman even at the best of times, a million words ran through Shepard's mind but all she could manage to actually articulate sounded ridiculous coming from a pampered civilian who had only recently learned how to shoot a gun.
"I won't hurt you."
She felt the heat creep up into her face again as Liara looked at her, then slightly shook her head.
"You cannot promise that," she said softly, almost sadly. Her free hand moved up to Del's cheek, and before the doctor could respond, Liara leaned forward and kissed her.
