"Shepard, Admiral Hackett is available on vidcomm."
Shepard looked up in surprise at the sound of Traynor's voice over the intercom, her half-finished fruit rope still dangling unceremoniously from her mouth, her hand resting idly up under her shirt, relaxing thoughtfully against her stomach. With nothing more immediately pressing needing her attention aboard the Normandy, Shepard had taken to reviewing planetary history and spacecraft schematics in her cabin to pass the time while she waited for the ship's arrival at the Illusive Man's base. It was a bland activity, but ultimately a useful one, as it had given her some insight on which planets the Reapers might have overlooked in their path of destruction, as well as which of their allies' crafts would be best suited to which line of defence when the final attack against the Reapers was set to commence. It had been a few days at least since the last time Hackett had asked to talk to her, but it still seemed surprising that he would request another meeting so soon after their last one. And so, uncrossing her ankles from where they had been perched on top of her coffee table, she set her datapad down instead, picking up her jacket from where she had shed it onto the bench beside her and pulling it on over her freckled shoulders.
Thane's comment about her breasts being visible through her jacket still hung over her subconscious like a dark, foreboding cloud, and so, making sure her hoodie hung just right so as not to show anything too obvious, Shepard quickly made her way down from her cabin towards the main navigation deck of the Normandy. Passing hurriedly by the starmap, she headed in the direction of the war room, making her way to the vidcomm room and pressing the flashing incoming message button. Taking a step back from the console, she straightened her posture, standing at rapt attention as Hackett's holographic form solidified in the pit, his expression solemn as he turned his grizzled blue eyes up towards her, tucking his hands dutifully behind his back. "Shepard," he greeted her, shortly. "The intel you sent looks good. The fleets are ready to go…" He stopped then, faltering, before trailing off, his creased brow furrowing as his lips drew into a hard, thin line.
"…But?" Shepard asked, picking up on the note of hesitation in his voice.
"Well, once we're committed against Cerberus, it won't be long before the Reapers take notice," Hackett warned her, warily, letting out a short, hard huff of breath, almost as if hesitant to even admit to it.
"And the Crucible?" Shepard pressed, trying hard not to betray the sense of impending doom she felt at the thought that their next move could very well lead to their last.
Hackett hesitated again, thoughtful, turning his gaze away from her towards something outside the scope of the hologram that she could not see. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back towards her again, solemn. "Ready," he told her, frankly. "Except for the Catalyst. There's no way to hide the ships we'll be sending at Cerberus. Once we attack, the Crucible won't stay safe for long. For all intents and purposes an assault on Cerberus will be the first stage of our attack on Earth."
"What happens if Cerberus doesn't have the intel we need?" Shepard asked, tentative, distractedly pushing down the hem of her pants leg with her opposite boot in nervous habit. "Or they stop us from getting it?"
"Then we lead the fleets to Earth and we take our chances," Hackett answered, determinedly. "But your intel points to Cerberus and the Illusive Man holding the information we're looking for. And, we have the element of surprise. Cerberus won't know what hit them." A pause fell over the conversation, with Hackett continuing to watch her, as if waiting for some sort of reaction to this. Then, taking in a deep breath, he cleared his throat, gently, giving a quick glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to Shepard again, solemnly. "Listen, Shepard," he told her, speaking lower this time, just loud enough for her to hear him over the vidcomm connection. "I didn't want to bring this up, but… I know about your medical reports."
At this, Shepard instantly blanched, feeling her stomach sink like a rock, her intestines tying in knots as they threatened to push back up what little she had eaten that day. "My medical reports, Sir?" she asked, speaking evenly, trying hard not to let on how unsettled she was by such a simple statement.
"I know you haven't been sleeping, Shepard," Hackett told her, concernedly. "And I know you haven't been eating like you should. Chakwas says you haven't been letting her take checkups or weigh you. She suspects it's because you're malnourished and know you'll come in under standard. If you think this mission might be too taxing on you, especially with the projected outcome…" He faltered, frowning, his bushy brows pressing together, before letting out another gentler, tired sigh. "I just want you to know that there wouldn't be any shame in bowing out now," he told her, honestly. "You've done a damn good job so far, and nobody would blame you for needing to take a short breather before the shit really hits the fan."
Holding back a heavy sigh of relief, Shepard shook her head, pulling a hand from her pocket to clench into a fist as she took a resolute step forward towards the vidcomm pit. "I'll be fine, Sir," she assured him, determinedly. "The Reapers and Cerberus started this. Now we're gonna end it."
"I'll get the fleets mobilized," Hackett agreed, seeming relieved as he offered another short nod in return. "Hackett out."
Despite her short-lived panic at the thought that her ultrasound had somehow slipped out into Alliance-accessible dataspace, the conversation with Hackett had left Shepard feeling more determined than ever, and she had wasted no time in returning to her research immediately after their conversation. She had only been back in her quarters for about half an hour before she heard the door of her cabin slide open, and when she looked up, it was to see Garrus standing in the doorway of her room, looking in at her eagerly, dressed in a gold-trimmed blue tunic. It had been a long time since she had last seen him in casual garb – he generally wore his armour around the Normandy, ready to head out and fight at a moment's notice – so it was nice to see him looking a bit more relaxed for a change, as if it meant things might actually not go wrong for once, if only for a short while. Garrus' hands were folded in front of him as he entered, but he quickly dropped them down to his sides when he caught sight of her across the room, offering her a gentle, half-assure smile.
"Shepard," he commented, greeting her, casually. "Thought you might be up here." Making his way over to where she sat, he turned, settling himself down beside her, his hip pressing against hers as he folded his hands between his knees, leaning in towards her and nudging her arm with his shoulder. "You know what the best part is about a battle that decides the whole fate of the galaxy?" he asked, lightheartedly, his voice lower now, as if his question were a secret meant just for the two of them.
"Winning it?" Shepard guessed, looking up at him, smirking.
Garrus chuckled, turning his gaze down at the datapad in her hand, before taking a soft breath. "I was thinking it's a good excuse to remind the ones you care about that… well, you care about them," he told her, moving a hand over to rest tenderly against her wrist. Then, looking up at her again, he offered her a gentle grin, his plated brows raising faintly, hopeful. "Want some company?" he asked.
Shepard paused, considering a moment, wondering if this might not be a terrible idea. Then, deciding that it was not important, she set her datapad aside behind her on the bed, bringing her hand back around to take hold of his, entwining her four fingers between his two. "You read my mind," she told him, smiling up at him, fondly.
"Mm, guess I'm getting pretty good at this," Garrus joked back, leaning in towards her, his nose brushing against hers as their faces neared one another. "But… some more practice wouldn't hurt." Then, leaning in the rest of the way, he gently pressed his mouth to hers, the edges of his mandibles brushing her cheek as they kissed, her hand moving up to cup the side of his face, drawing him in closer, wanting his touch. He kissed her again, deeper this time, pulling the hand entwined with his gently forward towards him, before unclasping his hand from hers and resting it on her knee instead. Moving his hand slowly up her leg, he leaned in further towards her, coaxing her back onto the bed as his hand came to rest at her hip before sliding down into the warm middle of her legs, massaging her, causing her to give a soft gasp of pleasure at the craved feeling. Spurred on by her positive reaction, Garrus kissed her lips again, more enthusiastic this time, before reaching up and starting to unzip her hoodie, placing gentle kisses down her neck, against her collar-bone, and between her breasts as he began to pull the zipper slowly downward.
Shepard gave another soft sound of pleasure, her toes curling into her bedding as she revelled in the feeling of his mouth against her body. Then, suddenly realizing what was happening, she stopped short, pulled violently from the moment as she pushed Garrus off of her, sitting up in bed and reaching up to grab hold of her hoodie, holding it tightly shut. "Garrus," she breathed, startled, feeling the steady beat of her heart pounding in her ears at what she had almost allowed to happen. Garrus stared back at her, taken aback, his bright blue eyes wide as he held his hand suspended at his side as though it had been burned. His mandibles gave nervous, rhythmic tics against his chin as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong, and Shepard clenched her teeth, inwardly cursing herself for her telling knee-jerk reaction, before taking a deep, shaky breath and shaking her head, looking down at his hands, and then back to his face again. "Not… not now," she told him, stuttering over her words as she rushed to find some explanation. "Not right now. Can't we just…?" She trailed off, biting her lip, her gaze lowering to the floor of the room as her fingers wormed self-consciously into the material of her jacket. "Nevermind," she said, quietly, zipping her hoodie up to the top again. "Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should just go."
"Shepard, I…" Garrus started to say, before stopping short, looking away from her, and frowning, concerned. His hands slid down to rest on his knees, curling into light, anxious fists as he took a thin breath in, his mandibles quivering fretfully against the sides of his chin as he tried to think of what to say to her. "I'm sorry," he finally told her, quietly. "It was… vulgar of me… Entitled, I guess, to just… assume…" He trailed off again, his plated brow furrowing even deeper into a self-conscious frown, before finally letting out a hard, embarrassed sigh and pushing himself off the bed again. "I'll just go," he told her, mumbling, just barely loud enough for her to hear him. "This was a bad idea on my part. I'll just leave you alone."
"Garrus, wait," Shepard said, reaching out a hand and quickly grabbing hold of his wrist, stopping him. Garrus turned, surprised, his mandibles standing at startled attention as he looked down at her again, watching as she gave a long, tired sigh before running a weary hand back through her hair. "I didn't mean for you to leave," she told him, speaking quieter now, worn out. "I didn't mean that. All I meant was… would it be okay if we were to just… cuddle, instead? With our clothes on? …Or, at least, my clothes on. I don't know how comfortable you are in your…" She faltered, considering, before letting go of his wrist to indicate loosely towards his attire. Then, dropping her hands to her lap again, she made a face, twisting her fingers into the well-worn edge of her hoodie as she stared up at him, hopefully. "If you aren't in the mood for cuddling, that's okay," she added, embarrassedly, the word feeling awkward and childish on her tongue.
Garrus paused, watching her, his expression soft but attentive. Then, sitting back down on the bed again, he slid his hand over the covers, smoothing where he had disturbed them earlier, before offering her a sincere, tender smile. "I am always in the mood for cuddling," he informed her, matter-of-factly. Climbing up into bed with her, he settled himself in behind her, his body bumping playfully against hers as he nestled down into the pillows, attempting to get more comfortable. "Move over," he instructed her, teasingly, shifting his body until it rested right up against hers in the middle of the bed. Then, reaching over, he draped his arm across her, pulling her in close to him and nestling his head against her shoulder, his breath warm and reassuring against her ear. "You know… you're a good person, Shepard," he told her after a moment, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper in her ear. "You don't give yourself enough credit for that. Nobody else can do what you do, and do it with the same compassion. I wish you could see yourself the way your crew sees you."
"I don't know if I would really want to," Shepard admitted, speaking quietly back. Garrus said nothing in return, apparently surprised by this response, and Shepard gave a soft, sad sigh, before gently closing her eyes, nestling back into his warmth, and allowing herself to drift off into a fitful, restless sleep.
"Braid my hair."
It was more of a command than a request, and Shepard turned quickly at the sound, surprised, looking around for the source of the voice. The room she found herself in was pristine, almost unnervingly empty save for a single couch in the middle of the floor, with walls painted a calming, milky mint-green. She frowned, unable to locate the voice, until she looked down and was surprised to find herself staring at a little girl, no more than five, standing patiently in front of her, staring expectantly up at her, as if she had been standing there for a while. Her hands were folded eagerly behind her back, her feet pressed together at attention as she waited for Shepard to acknowledge her request. She was a beautiful little girl, with rosy cheeks and sleek black hair, and while she appeared almost startlingly human at first glance, a closer look revealed that she had the brightest blue eyes Shepard had ever seen, almost the same exact colour as Garrus'.
"You want me to braid your hair?" Shepard asked, still a bit dazed, making sure she had heard the girl correctly.
The girl nodded in response, her smile widening, before she pointed to the couch in the middle of the room. "We can sit down if you like," she told Shepard. "If that would make it easier for you."
Shepard nodded, still a bit stunned, and watched as the girl moved past her towards the couch, pulling herself easily up onto it before looking back at Shepard, expectantly. Moving over to the couch as well, Shepard sat down tentatively behind the girl, hesitating one uncertain moment before gingerly starting to pull her hair out of her two pristine ponytails. Setting the rubber bands aside, she began to carefully comb her fingers through the little girl's tresses, barely able to keep her hands from shaking as she started the process of braiding her hair, her hands awkward in the unfamiliar motions. The girl seemed completely unaffected by her inexperience, instead humming quietly as Shepard worked, her dainty hands folded dutifully in her lap as she waited for the braiding to be finished. Glancing up towards the little girl again, Shepard could barely keep a small, crooked, almost guilty smile from spreading across her face at how beautifully healthy her daughter had turned out to be, despite all the worrying she had put herself through on the matter.
"Your hair is lovely," she told the girl, quietly, looking for an excuse to speak with her again.
"Thank you," the little girl returned, politely. "I try to take good care of it. Proper hair care is important, they tell me. Otherwise who knows what will happen."
Shepard nodded in dazed agreement, her braiding growing more confident as she repeated the practiced motion, crossing one swath of hair over another. Having finished with the first slightly lopsided braid, she reached down, picking up one of the rubber bands, and tied the braid off before moving on to the second segmented clump of silky black hair. "How many… toes do you have?" she asked the little girl, tentatively, not wanting to set her on edge with odd questions. The girl, however, seemed completely unfazed by the strangeness of the inquiry, instead happily swinging her feet over the edge of the couch, her heels bouncing thoughtfully against the upholstery as Shepard continued to braid.
"Ten fingers, ten toes," the little girl answered, dutifully, holding up her hands and spreading her fingers so Shepard could more easily see.
"That's… wonderful," Shepard told her, beaming, trying hard not to be too obvious in her joy. "And have you been… are you… well?"
"As well as I'll ever be," the girl returned, evenly, folding her hands in her lap once more. "I haven't had a cold in ages. Got one when I was very little, but that was it. They say I won't ever get another no matter how long I live, because I'm immune to it now." Wiping her nose absentmindedly with the back of her hand, she crossed her legs at the ankles, daintily, staring down at her ballet flat-clad feet. "They tell me it's because of my genetic makeup," the little girl continued, her chubby fingers curling thoughtfully around the edge of her puffy skirt. "I'm immune to most medical issues, in fact. I don't exactly understand their reasoning, but never having to worry about getting sick sounds good to me, whatever the reason."
"Absolutely," Shepard agreed, feeling a warm glow start to rise to her face, barely daring to believe what she was hearing. She had never considered before that her child might in fact retain the better parts of both parents' genetic makeup, making her virtually indestructible, immune to the ailments of both amino-based species by sake of the genes from the opposing gene pool. She tugged on the plait she was working on, tightening it gently, before continuing to braid, careful not to pull too hard on the little girl's skull. "I love you," she told the girl, quietly, unable to keep the infectious, euphoric smile from spreading across her face as she continued her dutiful braiding.
At this, the girl hesitated, pausing momentarily in her humming, seeming a bit surprised. "Thank you," she finally answered, courteously, before returning to her distracted humming once more, unaffected.
Shepard faltered at the unexpected response, her braiding slowing as she looked up at the girl, confused. "What, I don't get one back?" she asked, half-joking. "Not even one little 'I love you' from my own daughter?"
"Your daughter?" the little girl asked, turning to glance back towards her again, her pretty brow furrowing in a faint, confused frown. "What are you talking about, Commander? I'm not your daughter."
At this, Shepard stopped her braiding completely, feeling her stomach twist at the words. "You're not?" she asked, worriedly, trying hard not to betray the stroke of panic she could feel building up in her subconscious.
"No, silly," the girl returned, shaking her head as she turned to look back at Shepard fully again. "I'm Matilda Lawson. Remember? I'm Miranda's little sister."
"Miranda's sister," Shepard repeated, distantly, still a bit dumbstruck. Her hands had gone numb, the half-finished ebony braid forgotten in her grasp as she stared at the little girl, feeling her apprehension steadily beginning to rise, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Suddenly it all made sense, the blue eyes, black hair, perfectly formed little fingers and toes – human fingers and toes.
"Yes, that's right," Matilda confirmed, reaching across Shepard to pick up the discarded rubber band and starting to tie up her hair again. "You set up a playdate with my sister, remember? I've come over to play with your boy."
"My boy," Shepard repeated again, a bit louder this time, looking up towards the door at the far end of the room, feeling the knot in her stomach tie itself even tighter at the words. "I have a son?"
Matilda laughed in response, her laugh silvery and fine, seeming amused by the odd question. "Of course you do, Commander," she told her, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't you remember your own son? He's just gone to get something right quick, he should be back any moment now."
No sooner had the words left her mouth when a massive BANG noise suddenly caught Shepard's attention, causing her to look up towards the door again, startled, terrified, unready for whatever it was that was trying to come through. Looking desperately around the room, she searched for some sort of weapon, anything she could use to defend herself and the little girl from whatever was attempting to come in and get them, but she found the room to be utterly empty of anything save for the couch where the two of them were sitting. Another BANG noise caused her to look towards the door again, watching in horror as the wall surrounding the door began to crack under the pressure, the plasterwork erupting in a boulder-shaped highway of crumbling, jagged edges, the shrieking of metal reaching her ears as the cheap, factory-made foundation of the house began to crumple under the enormous weight being pushed against it. Finally, with a sound that rocked the small room, the outline around the doorframe gave way, the shape falling to the ground with a loud, metallic clatter as Shepard grabbed up Matilda, taking a few frightened steps back, protecting the girl from the oncoming destruction.
She could feel her heart seize and sink like a stone down to her pelvis as she stared at the new arrival, her stomach threatening to empty itself as her brain went suddenly blank with white-hot white noise.
The Brute from the Leviathan's dreamscape loomed in the ruined doorway, staring in at them with hellish, glowing blue eyes, its skeletal mask crooked on a vertebral neck barely held together with twisted wire. The creature looked haggard and threadbare, covered in rancid black and grey fluid, but also unnervingly enormous, as if it had somehow managed to put itself back together even larger than before after being so thoroughly torn apart. The gaping hole in its chest gurgled with black liquid, every so often spurting out a dribble of thick, murky bile, which ran down its chest before congealing and drying, caking its chest in a gruesome black gunk. An extra connection had been added to its enormous mechanical arm, linking it back to its massive shoulder, making it overlong and awkward and causing the Brute to drag it along on the floor behind it as it walked. Its normal-sized arm hung limply at its side, barely held on with bandages so congealed with black and grey fluid that it was difficult to tell where the bandage ended and the arm began. A number of its metallic intestines had been coaxed back together with sealant gunk and medical tape, but they did not seem to be staying, and a few of them had already broken loose of the makeshift reparation, the medical tape hanging in dirty, slimy ribbons at the edges of the loose metal organs.
"There he is," Matilda observed, cheerfully, pointing towards the grotesque creature in the doorway. "There's your son."
"No," Shepard breathed, panicked, taking another step backwards as she clutched Matilda closer to her chest, petrified. "No, that's not… that's not my son… that's not my son…"
Taking a step into the room, the Brute straightened to its full height, its enormous spines nearly reaching the ceiling as it towered over the two of them, staring down at them, rancid grey fluid dripping from its crippled smaller arm as it walked, leaving a grisly trail in its wake. "AREN'T YOU GLAD YOU DECIDED TO KEEP ME, MOTHER?" the Brute insisted, its voice deep and gurgling, as if forcing the words past a throat thick with blood. "HASN'T YOUR HUMANITY PAID OFF?" Taking another fearful step back in response, Shepard found herself suddenly stopped short, backed up against a wall she could have sworn had not been there only seconds earlier. Letting out a deep, guttural rumble, the Brute took another step closer, cornering her, its putrid smell so overwhelming as it leaned in towards her that she could feel it burning the inside of her nose.
"WHAT'S WRONG, MOTHER?" the Brute hissed, the vertebrae of its neck rattling ominously, its skeletal mask sparking as it snaked its head towards her. "DON'T YOU WANT TO PLAY?!"
Shepard woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat, sitting up in bed and clutching her stomach as a searing wave of nausea hit her like a white-hot knife. Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, she wet her dry lips, swallowing back the sickening sensation, before moving her hands to her shoulders instead and starting to fretfully rub at her thin upper arms. The gentle touch of a hand on her back caused her to turn around in bed with a sharp start to find Garrus propped up on one elbow, staring over at her with obvious worry, his mandibles fidgeting anxiously against his chin as he searched her face for some explanation. Reaching out the same hesitant hand again, he tenderly brushed her messy hair away from her eyes, careful not to touch her too much for fear of setting her off again. "Bad dream?" he asked, his hand coming to rest gently against her shoulder, coaxing her to lie back down again. Shepard did not take much convincing, instead quickly lying down and shifting her body around until she faced him, tucking her elbows in towards her as she curled up close to his chest, seeking the comfort of his warmth. Nestling her head up under his chin, she made herself as small as possible against his larger form as he pulled her in close towards him, draping one of his legs over hers, protective.
"You ever get them?" Shepard asked, weakly, still feeling her heart pumping wildly in her chest, her frayed nerves making it hard to force out words past her tightened throat.
"Hm," Garrus grunted, thoughtfully, pulling her in closer as he nestled his chin down further into her soft hair. "Mmm… I tend to expect the worst anyway, so dreaming about it is just a waste of good sleep."
"What about now?" Shepard asked, quietly, unable to even crack a smile at his genial repartee.
Garrus hesitated, realizing that she was in no mood for joking, and let out a soft, weary sigh, closing his arms more tightly around her underfed frame. "I'm expecting a tough fight," he answered, honestly. Then, after another moment, he added, concernedly, "What's bothering you?"
Shepard frowned, shifting against his warm form and letting out a soft sigh as she tried to think of how to word her apprehension. "Can we ever be ready for a battle like this?" she finally asked, barely daring to speak her worries above an anxious whisper. "Everything we've ever known… it's all hanging by a thread, Garrus."
Garrus nodded, turning his head downward until his nose and mouth were buried in her hair, before letting out a short, soft snort of breath, disturbing her bangs, causing them to feather gently into her eyes. "Yeah, but the truth is, when hasn't it?" he asked, honestly, his voice slightly muffled by her hair, his breath warm and soothing against her forehead. "Every fight we've ever seen could have been our last. Every bullet we've ever dodged could have been The One."
"There have been a lot of bullets," Shepard agreed, giving a soft, weak breath of a humourless laugh.
"And this time around they're just a little bigger," Garrus joked back, reassuringly.
Shepard laughed again, more sincerely this time, her breath shaking with a rush of panicked emotion as she fought back the quickly passing urge to cry at his unflappable, tender optimism. She blamed her emotional flux on her hormones, sniffing quickly and burying her face in his tunic to hide the fact that she had almost burst into tears over a ridiculous, barely funny joke. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she told him, honestly, hooking her leg around the one he had draped across her calf.
"Fall apart, probably," Garrus returned, teasingly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Garrus had still been asleep by the time Shepard left her cabin to make her way back down to the war room. She had considered staying until he woke up, not wanting to leave the reassuring warmth of his embrace, but nagging worry kept needling at the back of her mind, making it impossible for her to get comfortable again once she had already woken up. And so, slipping quietly out of bed, she had picked up her boots from beside her nightstand, padding out of her cabin and heading to the elevator, where she had set her destination for the main navigation deck, taking the time to pull on her boots while she waited for the elevator to reach her floor. The navigation deck was oddly quiet when she arrived, the only sound the occasional murmur about technical specs, as if everyone were afraid that saying anything about their upcoming mission might somehow jinx it. Skirting around the galaxy map, she passed by Traynor's work station, before making her way past the security checkpoint and into the waiting war room.
The war room was eerily quiet as well, save for the soft beeping of the war console, which still showed the slowly-spinning, now nearly-finished holographic image of the Crucible, but as she approached, the war map suddenly dinged three times, sharply, the Crucible flickering out momentarily to be replaced by the image of four blue war ships approaching a red object that looked like a long-ended space station. "The strike team is in," Hackett's voice reported over the console speakers. "We've got our foothold. Fifth Fleet, all forward. I don't want a single Cerberus ship in my sky when we're through."
"Shepard," Miranda spoke up from behind her, causing Shepard to turn, watching as she descended the steps into the sunken basin of the war room. Coming to stand beside Shepard at the war console, Miranda turned to face her, regarding her with a solemn expression. "I should go with you when you head down," she told her, candidly. "This is the central point of operations for Cerberus, so they'll likely have enhanced security measures." Turning her attention up towards the hologram display then, Miranda propped her hands on her hips, thoughtful. "They may very well have changed most of it since the last time I was there," she added, pensively. "But it still shouldn't be anything I can't work out. I figure with my knowledge of Cerberus algorithms and other insider information, having me along will offer you the best chance of succeeding against the Illusive Man."
Shepard paused, considering her argument, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned her attention back towards the console as well, watching the ships slowly inching forward towards the elongated space station. "Are you sure you're ready to face the Illusive Man again?" she asked, honestly, her brows drawing faintly downward. "If I remember correctly he tried to have you killed for trying to cut ties with Cerberus. You sure you want to risk treading on his turf again?"
"It's as much my turf as his," Miranda retorted, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest, mimicking Shepard's action. "He would never have even found that location if it wasn't for my help." Then, dropping her defensive attitude, she gave a soft sigh, turning her gaze back towards the red and blue hologram projection and watching it, pensive and silent for a moment. "Honestly, you'd be doing me a huge favour by letting me come along," she finally told Shepard, speaking quieter now, more sincerely. "I know the risks, but even so, I'd love to put a bullet right between that smug bastard's horrendous eyes for what he tried to do to me."
Shepard nodded, understanding, tucking her hands under her arms as she watched the holographic ships move ever closer to one another, before letting out a soft, tired exhale and turning her attention towards Miranda once more. "Grab your gear," she told her, affirmably. "Meet me and Thane in the hangar bay. Let's do this." Then, clapping Miranda reassuringly on the shoulder, she turned away from the war console, heading instead up towards the main deck of the Normandy to start getting ready for the mission, herself.
The sky around Cronos Station was already littered with Alliance ships by the time the Kodiak left the Normandy's hangar, making its way towards the Cerberus base. The doors of the Cerberus station's hangar had been left wide open, allowing for Cerberus ships to exit into the fray, and as soon as Shepard caught sight of this, she tapped Cortez on the shoulder, pointing him towards it, before holding on tightly to one of the overhead handlebars as he turned sharply, heading in the direction of the opening. It clearly did not take long for the enemy to realize their mistake, as they were still a short ways away from the hanger when the massive doors began to slowly move inward, and Cortez swore under his breath at the sight, gripping the edges of the manual piloting wheel so hard his knuckles began to turn white. "Hold on tight!" he warned his passengers, before giving the wheel a sharp jerk, rolling the shuttle onto its side just in time to slip through the closing doors, but not quite fast enough to keep the doors from clipping one of the engines.
The Kodiak screamed as it spun through the air, slamming its passengers against the side of the carriage as they scrambled to find something solid to hang onto. Scraps of metal flew from the shuttle's ruined thruster as it careened towards the hangar floor, until it finally skidded to a fiery halt with an angry, metallic shriek, knocking over a large stack of shipping crates and spilling the cargo all over the deck. The Kodiak whined as it began to power down, the piloting computer taking stock of its own damaged components, and Cortez coughed, rattled, slamming a fist down on the door release, causing the side door of the shuttle to begin to slide open, only to stop halfway, fizzling, refusing to budge any further. Miranda slipped out easily between the shuttle and the door, followed quickly by Thane, who paused as he readied his gun, turning back towards the shuttle to make sure Shepard made it out all right as well. Climbing towards the front of the Kodiak, Shepard gripped the headrest of the pilot's seat, leaning her head forward between the two seats to make sure Cortez had not been wounded in the unceremonious landing.
"You okay, Cortez?" Shepard asked, watching as he typed frantically into the keypad console, overriding the emergency autopilot and attempting to shut off the alarm that kept trying to warn him that one of the engines had gone offline.
"I'm fine," Cortez confirmed, coughing as he waved a hand towards her, shooing her back towards the battlefield. "Just have a few repairs to make. You go give Cerberus hell!"
"I'll keep them off your back," Shepard assured him, before ducking back out from between the seats and sliding out of the Kodiak, gun at the ready. Joining Thane behind one of the toppled shipping crates, she leaned around the side of their cover, firing into the group of oncoming Cerberus troopers, watching as one of her bullets struck a trooper through the neck, killing him instantly. The other troopers hardly even seemed to notice their fallen comrade, some going so far as to step over the corpse, while others simply ran directly over it in their haste to take out the intruders in their hangar. Between Thane's expert marksmanship and Miranda's biotics, it did not take long for the team to deal the rest of the attacking troopers, and once the smoke from the last grenade had cleared, Shepard quickly pulled herself to her feet, letting out a sharp, heavy huff of breath as she willed her heart to stop pounding in her ears. "There's bound to be more coming," she said, popping the spent heat sink from her gun before fishing a fresh sink from her pouch and clicking it into place instead. "This is only the first wave. I've dealt with Cerberus enough to know they never send just one."
"Security breach in Hangar Sixteen," a calm, electronic female voice suddenly reported over the intercom, causing Shepard to look up at the sound, wary. "Initiating Achilles Protocol."
"They're going to try to gas this place," Miranda hissed, scanning the upper floor of the hangar, as if expecting some kind of telltale indicator of Cerberus' next move. "We need to get out of here before they do or we're all dead."
"If you can override the command, we can simply use the same ventilation system they would have utilized to gas the hangar to escape from it," Thane suggested, calmly, blinking a few times as he looked over at her. "If we're careful, they might even lose track of us in the pipework. That would give us back the element of surprise."
"Right," Miranda agreed, frowning as she turned over her shoulder, looking around for some sign of tech. "Help me find an active console. If I can remember their override algorithms, I can probably stop the protocol."
"That's not exactly reassuring," Shepard apprised her, but Miranda ignored her, making her way towards a nearby ladder and starting to climb it to the upper level. Shepard was quick to follow behind her, tucking her gun into her maglock and making her way up the ladder as well, gritting her teeth and holding her breath as she painfully counted the steps left to the top. Thane brought up the end of the procession, watching Shepard warily to make sure she did not need assistance, and when they reached the top of the ladder, he was quick to offer his shoulder for her to lean on as they followed Miranda to what looked to be an overhanging workstation, panelled in with bulletproof glass and equipped on both sides with lines of active computer consoles. Letting go of Thane's shoulder, Shepard leaned against the wall of the workroom instead, doing her best to catch her breath as she watched Miranda's fingers fly across the keypad of one of the consoles, overriding the emergency protocol.
"This should do the trick," Miranda said, glancing up fleetingly towards the hangar before returning her attention to her work. Then, after a moment, the console gave a sharp beep, and Miranda stepped back, a look of satisfied determination on her face, still holding her hands up, poised to type, as if afraid to drop them just yet. "Hangar protocol overridden," she confirmed, letting her hands drop back to her sides. "Now let's find that bloody vent shaft and get the hell out of this godforsaken place."
"I spotted the entrance to it while we were on the ground," Thane commented, stepping forward and pointing towards the opposite door of the workstation, helpfully. "It's just past this control station. There should be some ammo crates nearby we can stack so Shepard can climb up as well."
"Great," Shepard confirmed before Miranda could say anything about her need for a stepping-crate. "Let's get moving before Cerberus realizes we've overridden their protocol and sends more troopers in after us."
"They're probably already on their way," Miranda warned her, glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting a party of troopers to burst through the door at any minute. "The quicker we get out of here, the better."
"Follow me," Thane instructed, beckoning them as he moved towards the opposite door of the workstation. The women were quick to follow behind, making their way to a large, square venting plate built into the wall of the hangar, stationed several feet above the catwalk floor. Pushing a large crate of ammunition up under the grate, Thane climbed on top of it, pulling a small tool from his belt and starting to deftly unscrew the venting plate. Miranda waited nervously, tapping her foot against the grated floor as she glanced over her shoulder again, listening for the sound of approaching troopers, but, just as the first shouting voice reached her ears, Thane gave a satisfied exclamation of success, lifting the vent plate just high enough for the women to crawl through. Miranda quickly climbed up onto the ammo crate, slipping easily inside the vent, and Shepard followed along behind her, twisting sideways as her ammo pouches caught the edge of the shaft, wedging her momentarily in place until she unclipped the belt from around her waist, sliding awkwardly the rest of the way through. Thane was the last to join them in the vent, sliding quickly inside and closing it quietly behind him just as the shouts of angry troopers echoed across the catwalk, their heavy boots rattling the grated flooring as they jogged obliviously past the vent, looking for the intruders but finding nothing but ammunition crates.
Sliding silently along the wall of the vent past the two women, Thane beckoned wordlessly for them to follow behind him, before starting to crawl along the shaft, every so often checking behind them to make sure they were not being followed. The vent was uncomfortably hot and stifling, and Shepard could feel herself sweating through her armour, the dull feeling of nausea making her a bit dizzy as she followed Thane through the twists and turns. The crawl through the ventilation shaft seemed nearly endless, and at times she could not help but wonder if Thane really knew what he was doing, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, they came to another venting plate, which Thane was quick to open with the same deft tool, allowing them to slip out into a darkened room she assumed was much deeper in the heart of the facility. The room they found themselves in was unnervingly quiet compared to the shouting and gunfire of the hangar, and Shepard could not help but feel on edge as they made their way towards the orange-locked door at the far end. Miranda frowned as she approached the door, pulling up the override control, considering the coding for a moment before starting to type something into the keypad.
"Think you can get past it?" Shepard asked, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other as she glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting a Cerberus trooper to spring from the shadows at any moment.
Miranda huffed, stopping in her typing momentarily as the lock gave off a sharp beep, thwarting her attempts at an override. "Cerberus has updated their encryption since I was here last," she answered, tapping her fingers pensively against her collar-bone as she stared at the lines of coding, sounding more determined than frustrated. "It might take me a minute."
Shepard nodded, understanding, still unable to help feeling anxious at the lack of resistance they were encountering at this checkpoint. Thane had mentioned that they might be able to take Cerberus by surprise by utilizing the ventilation system, but it still made her somewhat nervous not to know exactly where her enemy was at all times. "What should we expect up ahead?" she asked, trying to keep her mind off the uneasy feeling building in her gut.
Miranda paused, thoughtful, considering this question, before returning her attention to the lock once more. "They'll probably seal off as much as they can," she answered, simply. "They might even try to block off all obvious paths to the central lab, if they're smart. Other areas will probably be heavily fortified, and they'll do everything in their power to delay us as much as possible." Swiping her hand across the code console then, she cleared off her previous override attempt, before starting over again, just as determined. "Anything else will likely just be standard safeguard tactics," she added, intent on her work. "I can easily override those. Cerberus might be able to slow us down, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let them stop us." Taking a step back away from the door, Miranda watched as the orange holo-lock beeped twice, spinning thoughtfully, before finally turning bright green and sliding open to allow them inside.
"We should probably head through a sublevel to avoid getting tripped up by any more of Cerberus' containment measures," Miranda added, turning to face her companions as she stepped through the doorway into the hallway beyond, pointing to a dark square at the far corner of the floor. "Though the Prothean VI you're looking for will most likely be in the central lab. It's the most secure area in the entire facility. It's not going to be easy getting down there."
"Great," Shepard commented, deadpan, turning to look at the small, square pit sunk into the end of the hallway floor. Two conspicuous metal handles poked out over the top of the hole, making it obvious what waited beneath, and Shepard sighed heavily, already feeling her legs begin to burn in anticipation. "Ladders."