It was a slow, limping walk the rest of the way to the circulation station, but it did not take nearly as long as Shepard had suspected it might. She and Miranda could already see the outline of the building by the time they reached the edge of the refugee encampment, and by the time they reached the crest of the hill overlooking the camp, they could almost make out the building's details through the lingering dust and smoke. The circulation station was a long, patched-together building erected on the edge of a cliff, with what looked to be magnetic docking arms stretching out over the chasm, clearly waiting for a large craft of some sort to return and dock in its makeshift bay. Shepard was almost surprised not to see the Normandy docking there, but she figured Joker had probably taken her somewhere safer than the equivalent of a truck stop in the middle of a war-torn wasteland. Several much smaller spacecrafts had been parked in random formation in what appeared to be some sort of dusty, provisional landing strip off to one side of the circulation station, and Shepard could not help but frown a bit at the strangeness of the setup. She supposed she had to take the conditions they were working with under consideration, but it still felt more than a little bizarre to see the otherwise proud-looking civilian spaceships lined up like used cars in a parking lot.
The interior of the station was much cleaner than Shepard had anticipated, with level, carpeted flooring, artificial lighting, and even some semblance of air conditioning. She could smell the aroma of artificial flowers being pumped through the filtration system, likely a small attempt to cover the reek of mud, sweat, and death, and she had to stifle a sneeze at the sudden, unexpected change of sensory stimulation. A line of people of assorted species stretched almost all the way to the entryway doors, and when Shepard craned her neck a bit, she realized that what they were all waiting on was what appeared to be some sort of busy registration desk. A few yards to the right of the registration window, built into the same wall, was a large, closed set of bulletproof glass double-doors, leading out into a similarly-structured walkway, which she figured likely led out to the docking bay with the empty arms she had noticed earlier. Above the panelled walkway hung a digital sign, large enough to be read from the far end of the circulation station, which stated in bold, blocky letters: NEXT SHUTTLE: TICKET 437-872.
Shepard frowned, recognizing the word, before turning her attention back to the registration desk, noting a second, nearly identical sign hanging between the three active windows. The sign above the registration desk read CURRENT TICKET: 2638, but, as Shepard watched, the sign above the window began to change, and within the span of barely seconds it had gone up another two ticket numbers. "This is gonna take all bloody day," Miranda sighed, pulling up a projected digital clock on her omni-tool and checking the time. According to her watch, it was nearly four in the morning, though Shepard figured there was no way to know the difference one way or the other, as the sky outside likely looked the same no matter what time it was.
Miranda's omni-clock read seven-fifteen by the time they finally reached the registration desk, and Shepard could barely keep her eyes open as she limped along behind Miranda, who, to her credit, seemed more awake than ever as she planted her hands firmly on the desk, staring in at the bored-looking registration attendant with sharp, determined eyes. "We're here to purchase a shuttle ticket," Miranda announced, straightforwardly. "We need one that leaves this week at the latest. Ideally today, if we can manage it."
The shuttle attendant did not even react to this, blinking slowly as she stared back at Miranda, as if she were so used to hearing this request she could not be bothered to look surprised. "The Homeworld Shuttle is scheduled to leave only once a month, ma'am," she explained, resignedly, leaning back in her chair and letting out a soft, tired sigh as she spoke. "There's three shuttles in rotation, but the launch is still monthly, to give each shuttle time to make its rounds and return to the Local Cluster. Each round trip is estimated to take about three months, with FTL travel and limited relay use taken into consideration, but we haven't actually completed any rounds as of yet so that estimate may be slower or faster than the actual trip." Pointing to a digital map stationed directly to the right of the window, she watched as Miranda and Shepard took a few steps over towards it, inspecting the projected route, curiously.
"Each shuttle's FTL core is able to sustain only enough Eezo to make a round trip to the closest surrounding planetary systems," the attendant went on, seeming almost bored with the repetition of her spiel. "Which means the route goes from the Local Cluster to the Exodus Cluster, then from there to the Horse Head Nebula, the Annos Basin, the Krogan DMZ, the Apien Crest, the Atheon Cluster, the Arcturus Stream, and from there back to the Local Cluster. Anyone with a planetary destination further than that has to arrange to get a ride from one of those systems, or wait until the local relays are functional enough to allow more homebound traffic to travel through again."
"We only need to get as far as the Horse Head Nebula," Miranda determined, pointing to the corresponding spot on the reference map and turning her attention to the attendant again. "That's one of the systems covered by your Homeworld Shuttle route. If we could only get a spot on this upcoming shuttle—"
"That shuttle's been booked solid for over a week," the attendant told her, cutting her off short with a shake of her head and pointing to the ticking number sign overhead. "Overbooked, in fact. We had to break up some families, move the overflow onto the next outbound shuttle. Our last outbound shuttle left a week ago, so the next one won't be available for at least another three weeks, and nobody who doesn't have a matching ticket is getting on that shuttle. That's just it. I'm sorry, ma'am."
"I don't think you understand, ma'am," Miranda told her, retrieving her hand, now getting a bit annoyed. "We're not just civilians. We're Alliance military, and this—" Reaching over to Shepard, she took her by the arm, pulling her over into the attendant's line of vision, causing Shepard to look up, startled, before dropping her head again, hiding her face in her hood once more. "This is Commander Shepard," Miranda informed her. "Hero of the Alliance, and saviour of the entire galaxy."
At this assertion, the attendant paused, staring intently at Shepard and giving her a slow, telling once-over, not even bothering to hide her scepticism as her gaze passed over her visibly expectant stomach. "This is Commander Shepard?" she asked, turning to look at Miranda again. "Ma'am… this woman is clearly pregnant. Do you honestly expect me to believe that this could possibly be the real Commander Shepard?" Clicking her tongue disapprovingly, the attendant shook her head, folding her hands in front of her on her desk with a critical, put-upon little sigh. "Do you have any idea how many redheads I have coming through here every day claiming to be Commander Shepard?" she asked, looking between Miranda and Shepard, hardly seeming to notice as Shepard began to turn away from the desk, starting to leave the conversation. "I've seen good wigs, bad wigs… some people even went so far as to dye their own hair. Some don't even bother trying, they just think I'll let them through on their good word."
Letting out another sigh, pointedly louder this time, the attendant tapped her thumb against her opposite knuckle, twisting her mouth to one side in a frown as she turned her full attention to Miranda again. "I don't have anything against you, personally," she explained, matter-of-factly. "I've simply come across so many so-called Commander Shepards this past week that I'm starting to doubt Commander Shepard ever actually existed."
"But this is Commander Shepard," Miranda insisted, frustrated, taking hold of Shepard's arm to pull her forward again, stopping her from leaving the registration desk. "This is the real Commander Shepard. Can't you tell? Don't you know the real thing when you see it?" Reaching up to take hold of her hood, Miranda started to pull it back, but Shepard quickly stopped her, putting her hands to her head, keeping her from pulling her hood down to reveal her face to the attendant.
"It's not worth it, Miranda," Shepard told her, shaking her head, speaking in barely above a murmur. "It doesn't matter. They won't let us through."
"We have to at least try—" Miranda started to insist, reaching up to take hold of her hood again, but Shepard pressed her hands firmly against her head, keeping her hood in place, not letting Miranda pull it back to show her face to the waiting attendant.
"No, Miranda," Shepard insisted, more adamantly this time. "I don't want to do this anymore. I'm done. I don't want to use my name to get things anymore." Letting her hands fall away from her head, she tucked them instead into the pockets of her hoodie, letting out a soft, tired sigh of breath as she turned away from the circulation desk. "I'm through with this," she added, wearily. "I'm done. Let's just go back to the refugee camp—"
"Commander Shepard?" The voice was familiar, painfully so, and Shepard did not even have to turn around to know who it was who had addressed her. "Commander Shepard? Is that really you?"
"Fuck," Shepard breathed, quietly, barely daring to move. For a split second, she had the distinct urge to stand as still as possible, hoping that perhaps he could only see by motion, and if she stood stationary long enough he might lose track of her and go away. Then, realizing how ridiculous this hope was, she took a deep breath in, straightening her shoulders, before tucking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and turning to face her inevitable, oncoming acquaintance.
Conrad Verner beamed at her from across the crowded circulation plaza, and when he saw her looking his way, his smile grew even wider, and he raised an eager hand, waving her over, in case she had missed him the first time. "It is you!" Verner exclaimed, breathlessly, running up to meet her across the plaza, causing Miranda to take a step back from the two, startled by his enthusiasm. "I thought I recognized you. What are you doing out here? I would've thought you'd still be in intensive care after what happened out there on the battlefield." Taking a moment to catch his breath, he gave her a quick, inclusive once-over, noting the tail of the bandage sticking out of the top of her boot before returning his gaze to her face, elated. "How are you doing?" he asked, jerking his chin indicatively towards the nasty bandaged cut still healing over her eyebrow. "Are you still hurt? Are you okay?"
"Conrad, I… I'm fine," Shepard answered, barely trying to keep up with his zeal as she took a frazzled, bandaged hand from her pocket, tucking a lock of overgrown hair anxiously behind her ear. "I'm really okay. It's not a big deal, really, I just need to—"
"Oh my god," Verner breathed, cutting her off as he stared openly down at her stomach under her sweatshirt. Seeing this, Shepard quickly pulled the front of her hoodie a little looser, attempting to make her bump less obvious, to little avail. "Oh my god, you really are pregnant! Oh… you know, when you first told me, I thought maybe you were just pulling my leg, but no, oh…" Pressing his fist against his mouth, Verner let out a low, excited keening sound, his gaze locked intently on her abdomen, before pulling his hand away from his mouth and holding out both hands towards her stomach. "Can I feel it, Commander?" he asked, taking a step forward towards her. "Can I feel it kicking? Is it kicking yet?"
"Don't touch me, Conrad," Shepard told him, sharply, causing him to instantly retrieve his hands, taking the same wary step backwards.
"Sorry, Commander," Verner apologized, his voice dropping quickly to a low mumble as he began to wring his hands guiltily in front of him. "I just got a little excited was all. Y'know? Sometimes… I forget we're not actually that close of friends." Letting out a heavy sigh, he dropped his hands awkwardly back to his sides, as if unsure what to do with them now that his main objective had been denied. "It's just… great to see you looking so good, is all," he added, trying to salvage the conversation, to little avail. "What with, especially with your… your pregnancy and all. You're, you've got that—you're glowing. You look incredible."
"Hm," Shepard returned, noncommittal.
"Conrad, we need a spaceship," Miranda cut into the conversation then, causing Verner to look her way now, seeming a bit thrown by the change of subject despite his unsure smile still lingering faintly. "Ideally one with an FTL drive. You wouldn't happen to know where we could find something like that, would you?"
At this request, Verner hesitated, a bit surprised, before a wide smile suddenly split his enthusiastic features and he turned to look over at Shepard again, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the docking lot. "Well, I've got a ship with an FTL drive," he told her, brightly, as if she had been the one to make the request. "I bought it from a volus secondhand ship salesman right after you told me to invest in a ship. You remember? When you told me to do that, when we met up on the Citadel? I took your advice to heart, Commander." Retrieving his hand again, he let out an excitable huff of nervous laughter, starting to wring his hands in front of him as he tried his hardest to keep his gaze from flicking back to Shepard's stomach. "Lucky I did, huh?" he asked, eagerly, hoping for praise. "It's pretty lucky I listened to you. Especially now that you're here, needing it, and I've got one for you to use—"
"That's great, Conrad," Shepard sighed, holding up a hand, cutting his excited rambling short. "I'm glad you listened to my advice."
"We're really gonna need to use that ship, Conrad," Miranda pressed, causing him to glance her way once more before returning his attention to Shepard again.
"Well that's wonderful, Commander," Verner answered, his eager smile beaming wider. "Just tell me where you two need to go and I'll get you there right away. No problem."
"Conrad, that's… that's not what she meant," Shepard told him, frowning faintly at his misunderstanding. "What she meant was, we don't need a pilot. We just need to borrow the ship… without you."
At this statement, Verner hesitated, not seeming to fully comprehend what she was saying for a moment. Then, slowly, his face began to drop, the eager, wide-eyed expression dissipating into a look of almost troubled confusion. "What do you mean, you don't need a pilot?" he asked, his voice starting to waver, uncertain. "I thought you said you wanted my ship. I thought you said… you needed my help. You wanted me to help you leave Earth, that's… that's what you said—"
"Conrad," Miranda said, loudly, cutting him off. Moving forward towards him, she took him by the shoulder, her grip just forceful enough to get his attention as she turned him away, leading him off into a private conference a few feet away from where Shepard stood. Verner frowned, now thoroughly confused, looking between Miranda and Shepard, as if he were not sure what had just happened but feared whatever might happen next. "Listen, Conrad – is your name Conrad?" Miranda asked him, forcing geniality as she released his arm, letting him turn to face her fully. Verner nodded, listening intently, his expression still a bit forlorn as he glanced over his shoulder towards where Shepard waited, watching as she stared thoughtfully down at the floor, digging the toe of her boot into the thin carpeting. Realizing he was distracted again, Miranda tapped him lightly on the cheek, getting his attention again, causing him to look her way intently now, his blue eyes wide as he waited for an explanation.
"Listen, Conrad," she started again. "We need this ship for a top secret mission. We can't tell you what it is because if anyone found out you knew about it, it could seriously compromise the outcome of our mission. I know that sounds bizarre—Conrad." Taking hold of his chin, Miranda turned his head to face her again, jerking his attention away from Shepard, who was checking warily over her shoulder, making sure no one had seen her and recognized her. "I know that sounds bizarre," she repeated, letting out a soft, patient sigh. "But in all honesty your discretion may very well end up being a matter of life and death for Shepard's baby." Thinking quickly on her feet, Miranda glanced up towards, Shepard, checking on her, before looking conspicuously over her shoulder, as if expecting someone to be listening in on their conversation. "Listen to me, Conrad," she told him, speaking lower now, turning back to face him again. "Listen to me carefully. There are people who don't want Shepard to have this baby. People who would hurt her if they knew she was still carrying it."
"That's terrible," Verner answered, startled, frowning deeply at the thought. "Who would want to hurt a baby?"
"They're bad… very bad people, Conrad," Miranda told him, shaking her head, dismissively. "The point is, if you knew where we were going, and you were captured and tortured by these people to give that information, they could very well come for us and kill both Shepard and her baby. So—Conrad." Snapping her fingers, she got his attention again, causing him to look away from Shepard, who was playing idly with the drawstrings on the hood of her jacket, waiting for Miranda to finish. "Do you understand why we need you to stay here, while we take your ship to our destination?" she asked.
Verner instantly nodded in response, the expression sincere, almost exaggerated, before pulling a fist up to his chest and pressing it valiantly against his heart. "I'll keep the Commander's secret," he told her, speaking in barely above a whisper. "Nobody's gonna torture it out of me. You go ahead and take the shuttle. I'll wait here until you two return and keep an ear to the ground for those people."
"Good," Miranda answered, speaking normally now, reaching over a hand to pat him agreeably on the shoulder. "I'm glad we got that figured out." Then, turning her attention back to Shepard, she jerked her chin towards her, indicative, causing Shepard to look up from where she had been distractedly wrapping her hoodie drawstring around her index finger. Making her way back over to Shepard, she offered her a small, knowing smile, which Shepard had to work hard not to return as she turned her attention up towards Verner, who came to stand in front of the two, his hands folded dutifully behind him.
"The ship is ready to go, Commander," Verner informed her, devotedly. "There's enough freeze-dried food in there to last about a month, and I topped off the core with Eezo just a couple days ago, right before it got redlisted. The FTL drive should take you as far as the Argus Rho Cluster, if you make a straight shot with no detours."
"Redlisted?" Shepard asked, frowning, turning to glance back towards Miranda.
"Restricted access," Miranda explained, shortly, propping a patient hand on her hip. "The damaged relays require indeterminate amounts of Element Zero to regain operation. Until they've figured out how much Element Zero is needed, the material has been put on civilian lockdown." Crossing her arms over her chest, she glanced out towards the civilian docking bay, scanning thoughtfully over the line of waiting ships, as if trying to determine which one might be Verner's. "Only people with a verified affiliation to the relay repair effort are allowed access to the material anymore until further notice."
"The relay repair effort and the homeworld shuttles," Verner corrected, causing Miranda to glance over towards him with a look of faint annoyance. "The waiting lists on those shuttles are backed up for months, though. There's going to be a lot of people left without homes on Earth for a long time."
"We know," Shepard answered, nonplussed, letting out a soft sigh as she twisted the pull-tie of her hoodie between her thumb and forefinger. "We tried to get a ride on one."
"And they wouldn't let you through?" Verner asked, seeming sincerely offended by this. "Did you tell them you were Commander Shepard?"
At this, Shepard looked up at him, her expression an incredulous deadpan as she paused momentarily in playing with the pull-tie of her hoodie. "You know, it didn't occur to me," she finally answered, monotone. "Maybe I should try that next time."
Verner nodded in agreement, seeming to completely miss her sarcasm, before reaching to dig into his pocket and fishing out what looked to be a small, flat rectangular box. The knickknack's inner chip was clearly visible through the transparent yellow plastic exterior, with a tiny, inactive light built into one end and what looked to be some kind of tag or keychain attached to the other. "Here's my starting key," Verner said, holding out the small plastic rectangle for Miranda to take. "Just stick it in the slot on the dash of the craft and push the button above it, and the ship should start, no problem. My security code is written on the tag." Here, he pointed to the keychain hanging off the end of the key, causing Miranda to twist it around in her hand to get a better look. "I've had the craft for a little bit, but… I've never been much good with numbers," he explained, giving a light, offhanded chuckle as he tucked his hand back in his pocket again. "Figure it's better to keep it on me than risk forgetting it."
"Makes sense," Miranda conceded, closing her hand securely around the key again. Then, turning to look at Shepard, she paused, watching her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something to close the conversation. Verner, too, had turned to look at Shepard by now, and she frowned, feeling their eyes on her, shifting anxiously on her feet as she tried to think of what else there was to say that had not already been said.
"Thanks, Conrad," Shepard finally said, awkwardly. "For the ship."
"Of course, Commander," Verner answered, seeming perfectly pleased with this response. Then, taking a step in closer to them, he glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting someone to be standing there, before leaning in to the two of them and whispering, "Can you at least tell me if it's a boy or a girl?"
"We don't know yet," Miranda answered, quickly, causing Shepard to look up in surprise, watching as Verner's hopeful face wilted a little at this response. He seemed less disappointed by this news than resigned, however, and she could not help but wonder what Miranda had told him in confidence that made this bizarre hush-hushedness seem like a logical, feasible answer. "We figured it would be safer for everyone involved if we didn't determine the baby's gender," Miranda went on. "We wanted as little information as possible out in the open about the baby before it arrives… you know." Glancing over her shoulder again, she leaned in closer to Verner, conspiratorial, causing him to lean in further to meet her, raising his blonde brows as he hung onto her every word. "You never know who's listening," she told him, quietly, her tone solemn. "And who might be wanting that information in order to use it against us."
"Oh, true," Verner agreed, nodding along. "That's true. Sorry, didn't mean to blow your cover." Then, leaning away from Miranda again, he tucked his hands in his pockets once more, trying to keep his gaze away from Shepard's stomach, to painfully little avail. "I kind of hope it's a little girl," he added then, still speaking quietly. "A little Commander Shepard in pigtails… that would be so cute." Then, offering Shepard one last, amicable smile, he turned away from the two of them, starting to head towards the double-doors at the far end of the plaza.
Shepard faltered, watching him walk away, feeling that there had to be something else she could say to make the parting a bit less awkward. Then, "Hey, Conrad," she called him back, just loud enough to get his attention, causing him to instantly turned around again at the sound of her voice. Verner raised his brows, intent, eagerly waiting for whatever the Commander was going to say next, and, biting her lip, Shepard took a deep breath, steeling herself, before crossing the short distance over to Verner and pulling him in for a quick kiss on the cheek. Verner blushed bright red at the gesture, his eyes growing wide with surprise as his entire face turned the colour of a ripe strawberry, an enormous smile spreading across his cheeks as he looked up at Shepard in elated disbelief. "Thanks," Shepard told him, offering him a weary half-smile, the best she could manage under the circumstances.
"Anytime, Commander," Verner stammered, holding up a hand to touch the place on his cheek where her lips had been, only to stop himself halfway, dropping it back to his side again, not wanting to risk wiping off her kiss. Then, turning away from the two of them again, he let out another soft, disbelieving little laugh, beaming even wider as his hands fidgeted happily at his sides, as if he did not even know what to do with himself anymore.
Turning back around to Miranda, Shepard tucked her hands once more into the pockets of her hoodie, taking a deep, patient breath as she watched Miranda inputting navigational equations into her omni-tool, charting out a potential course. Then, finished with her calculations, Miranda collapsed her omni-tool again, turning her attention back to Shepard with a look of determination. "This is perfect," she told her, speaking in a low voice, just loud enough for Shepard to hear her. "If the ship has enough Eezo to last to the Argus Rho Cluster, that should be more than enough for us to get to the Minuteman Station in the Horse Head Nebula."
"The Horse Head is much closer than the Argus Rho," Shepard agreed, thoughtfully. Then, pausing, she frowned a bit as she realized what else Miranda had said. "What's the Minuteman Station?" she asked, confused.
Miranda shook her head at this question, holding up a patient, dismissive hand. "It's not important," she answered, quickly, playing idly with the starting key between her fingers as she spoke. "What is important is that after we reach the Horse Head Nebula, we should still have more than enough Eezo still left over to last us back to the Local Cluster, if we're lucky. If you want to come back, that is." Turning then, she indicated for Shepard to follow along behind her as she started for the entryway of the station, passing through the double-doors as they headed out towards the civilian docking ground. Miranda's gait slowed a bit as she looked out over the field of crafts, her hand clenching anxiously around the starting key as she scanned for the spacecraft Verner had specified, before seeming to get a glimpse of something and starting once more at an eager pace.
"Why wouldn't I want to come back?" Shepard asked, half-jogging to keep up with Miranda's long-legged gait, thankful it was still too dark out for anyone to see how outlandish she looked with her messy hair and ill-fitting clothes. Miranda shrugged in response, shaking her head as she skimmed the field of crafts for Verner's ship, before letting out a short, soft sigh and glancing back towards Shepard again, making sure she was keeping pace.
"I don't know," Miranda answered, truthfully. "I figured we could regroup with the Normandy after all is said and done, if you wanted, but—"
"Who of the Normandy is even left, apart from you?" Shepard asked, following along, finishing her train of thought. "Garrus went back to Palaven, I'm sure Tali went back to the Migrant Fleet…"
"Vega and Ashley have vanished," Miranda added, frowning in return. "I don't know what became of them. Last I heard, Vega was asking around about you at the hospital camp, but when I tried to find him the other day nobody had seen hide nor hair of him for a few days at least."
"Ashley probably went to find her family," Shepard reasoned, nodding along in agreement. "Make sure they were doing okay after the War. Wrex…?"
"Went back to TuChanka," Miranda filled in. "Along with Grunt and Bakara. Javik went to help with the relay repair effort… with surprisingly little bitter complaint, might I add."
"Liara?" Shepard asked, hopefully.
"Liara disappeared after the final battle also," Miranda told her, her pretty frown deepening in concern. "Something about having to maintain the Shadow Broker network. Regrouping after the war, or… something of that nature. I'm not entirely sure how her operations network functions, but it sounded very important." Pausing in her search momentarily, Miranda glanced down towards her omni-tool sensor, clenching her hand to activate it and pulling up her messaging system, making a quick skim through the most recent messages before closing it once more with a short, thwarted sigh. "She said she would keep in contact, but I haven't heard from her," she added, turning her attention back up towards Shepard again, half-apologetic. "I did hear from Feron, however. He said she was en route to… wherever their ship is stationed now. That was two days ago." Faltering then, she made a face, as if realizing for the first time how entirely unhelpful she sounded. Then, shaking her head, she let out a soft huff of breath, resting her hand against her hip again, thoughtfully. "I don't think she would just leave, though," she added, optimistically. "She'll be back."
"I hope so," Shepard answered, letting out a soft, disappointed sigh of her own. Tucking her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, she frowned, turning her attention towards the ground as she tried to think of any other members of her crew who might have thought to linger. Then, looking up at Miranda again, she made a face, knowing it was a long shot, before asking, softly, "…Thane?"
Miranda shook her head at this guess, hardly deeming it worth an answer, before turning away from Shepard again to resume her search for Verner's craft. Shepard to let out a tired huff in response, taking her hands from her pockets again as she began to follow along behind her, trying her best to keep the pace despite being painfully out of breath. "We can find out who stayed behind when we get back from the Minuteman Station," Miranda went on, matter-of-factly, seeming more anxious than before as she glanced out over the line of ships again, as if she were slowly starting to lose patience with the futile guessing game. "None of the rest of the crew will be of any help to us where we're going right now anyway. We can't have any distractions, Shepard. We have only one shot at what we're doing, and we can't risk anything getting in the way of that and botching it, accidentally or otherwise." Coming up on a hopeful-looking craft, she stopped in front of it, looking it over, before glancing towards Shepard, watching as she came to stand beside her, letting out a long, tired, unsurprised sigh as she read the name painted in bright red letters across the side of the ship.
"Shepard," Shepard breathed, deadpan. "Figures. Fucking creepy."
"Aw, I think it's kind of sweet," Miranda teased, looking towards the spaceship again, a faint, knowing little smirk curving the corners of her plush lips upward as she played idly with the starting key. "A little hero worship never hurt anyone."
At this innocent statement, Shepard scoffed, resting her hand against the small of her back. "You don't know Conrad Verner," she sighed. Then, looking up at Miranda again, she frowned, still not entirely pleased with the explanation she had gotten thus far. "You're not exactly giving me a lot of details about this whole thing, Miranda," she told her, barely bothering to hide her concern. "You're expecting me to go into this blind when you won't even tell me what you've got planned. How do you know I'll want to do it?"
Miranda frowned at this test of faith, seeming almost exasperated with Shepard's incredulity as she turned to face her friend again. "Shepard, don't you trust me?" she asked, frustrated. "Besides, which would you rather, sitting around conversing about this or actually getting started? The longer we talk about it, the more time passes on your baby's remaining physical health." Turning back towards the shuttle again, she waved a hand in front of the side window, causing a digital keypad to pop up, before inputting Verner's unlock code. As soon as she did, the tiny ship gave a hiss, its side passenger door opening wide to allow them to inside, and Miranda turned back to Shepard again, clenching the starting key in her hand as she regarded her with a firm expression. "If we want a chance for this to work, we can't waste any more time than we already have," she told her. "It's going to take us a week already to get to the Nebula, even so. We can talk about it more on the way if you want, but the sooner we leave, the better." She paused, considering Shepard for a moment, before her expression suddenly softened, and she frowned, sighing, folding her arms across her ribcage, seeming almost sad now.
"It's not about details right now, Shepard," she told her, solemnly. "Do you or do you not want to at least try to save your baby's life?"
Shepard faltered at this hard ultimatum, unable to help but feel a bit denigrated by Miranda's critical tone. Still, she said nothing, deciding it was not worth picking a fight over something so petty. "Of course I do," she answered, truthfully.
"Good," Miranda returned, shortly, before pointing towards the interior of the ship, indicating for Shepard to get in first. "Let's go, then. No time to waste."
The sound of the entryway door beeping to admit them echoed through the emptiness of the Minuteman Station, causing Shepard to paused at the top of the grated stairs, taking a look around. The interior of the Station was freezing cold and penetratingly dark, the air inside the facility so deathly still she could hear her thin heartbeat in her ears. Almost every light in the facility had been turned off, as far as she could see, presumably to preserve energy while the team was away, with only small, sporadic floodlights left on in certain far-off corners to ensure the place was not completely pitch black. It reminded Shepard strongly of the mines back on Omega, lit only by the trails of red lights installed to keep the miners at work, and she could not help but feel a chill run down her spine at the comparison, wondering what wicked things lurked in the dark of this place.
Miranda took a few assured steps forward towards the edge of the grated entryway platform, causing a few spare lights to turn on to acknowledge her presence, and when she did, Shepard could see that the periphery of the entryway was lined with LOKI security mechs, likely a precaution left by the last team to keep unsuspecting intruders out. Even so, none of the mechs made a move to acknowledge their presence, making her guess that it had been so long since they had last been active that their mechanics had all worn out from disuse, rendering them all but useless. Indicating for Shepard to follow behind her, Miranda began to descend the stairs, leading her past the ring of mechs and down into the dark, cold interior of the station. Shepard followed behind as quickly as she could, noting that the further into the station they got, the colder the air seemed to become. Blowing hot air into her hands, she rubbed them together hopefully, before crossing her arms over one another and tucking her hands under her armpits for warmth.
"It's really cold in here," Shepard breathed, shivering through her worn hoodie, getting Miranda's attention.
Miranda frowned a bit at this, glancing back over her shoulder towards her, concerned, before stopping near the doorway of the room they had been about to enter and waving a hand in front of a thin, slit-like sensor built into the wall beside the door, listening as it gave a low whine, convincing itself to wake up. "There hasn't been anyone here for over six months, presumably," she said, matter-of-factly, watching as the sensor came to life, projecting a small, circular loading symbol. "This station has been on minimum-power lockdown since the clone was destroyed. At least, that's what the files say. Nobody has been back to use it since, so I have to assume that's accurate." The sensor churned, letting out a high-pitched keen, before the loading symbol finally disappeared, replaced instead by what looked to be some sort of flickering blue options screen. Miranda perused the rows of selections, scanning each one thoughtfully, before picking a button near the top of the screen and pressing it, pulling up another, less daunting screen of options.
Pulling her hoodie more closely around her awkwardly-shaped form, Shepard watched Miranda work for a moment, trying hard not to shiver as she waited, not wanting to seem impatient, but feeling the cold permeating through her, making her need to cough or urinate. The difference was difficult to tell these days, and she did not want to risk doing one for fear it might accidentally set off the other, and so, taking a sharp breath in, she waited, wetting her lips as she turned her attention away from Miranda at the settings console. "It feels so strange to be back here," she said, looking up towards the ceiling of the facility, noting the flickering light in the far corner of the lab but deciding to say nothing about it. It had been so long since she had first woken up in the Lazarus facility that nothing seemed familiar anymore, apart from the stark, chilly atmosphere of the lab and the blank, white ceiling, which she could remember staring up at every time she began to come around during the process of the Project. She could vaguely remember Miranda's face swimming around in her line of vision every time she opened her eyes, her pristine, backlit form seeming almost angelic against the bright white lights of the facility. Miranda glanced back towards her, seeming confused for a moment, before shaking her head and turning her attention back to the laboratory control panel.
"You were never here," Miranda corrected, pulling up a set of digital setting sliders and starting to push one all the way to the top. "Not technically. You were in the Lazarus Cell Station. This is just a replica, where the other Commander Shepard was made."
"You mean the clone?" Shepard asked, looking over at her in interest. "The one you mentioned at the party?"
"Yes," Miranda answered, shortly. Pausing halfway through pushing a second slider upward, she stared at the line of bars, considering them, before abandoning the one she had been fooling with and instead sliding another one up to the top. Then, satisfied with her decisions, she closed out the setting subscreen, collapsing the control station with a wave of her hand and turning her attention back to Shepard again. "We set up two sister stations to make two identical projects," she explained, folding her arms thoughtfully across her chest as she spoke. "We didn't want either station interfering with the other one's research, or the two Shepards meeting accidentally somewhere along the way. The Cell had the main project, with the most highly-funded amount of research, and the Minuteman Station only got duplicates of whatever worked in the Cell." As she spoke, a soft whirring sound began to come from the overhead vents, and, as Shepard waited, she could feel the air in the lab beginning to turn a bit warmer, prompting her to let her hoodie fall back to its regular state.
Miranda seemed not even to notice the change in temperature in the lab as she turned back to face Shepard again, giving her a quick once-over, as if to make sure she were still doing all right, or as well as could be expected, under the circumstances. "I wasn't really planning on getting started until we'd had a chance to settle in," she admitted, shrugging one shoulder indicatively towards the interior of the station. "We should go ahead and change your bandages first, but after that, you can feel free to make yourself at home… or, as much at home as you can, considering. The run of the station is yours, if you want it. There's plenty of beds to choose from, or if you're hungry I'm sure we could whip something up right quick."
"There's food here?" Shepard asked, sounding surprised, trying to ignore the eager, gnawing feeling in her gut at the mention of non-freeze-dried food.
At this, Miranda paused, seeming taken aback, before nodding and turning away from Shepard, waving a hand to indicate for her to follow behind. "Of course there's food," she told her, frankly. "This whole place was designed to be a stable living environment. It was created to sustain a team of normal, functioning individuals isolated from the commercial world for as long as the Project was projected to take." Making her way down a flight of stairs, she continued through a darkened corridor towards a dimly-lit room at the end of the hall, hardly seeming to notice as the lights flickered on around her as she passed, reacting to her presence. "There should be stores enough for a dozen people to live comfortably for at least a year," she added, moving over to a tall, broad cabinet and pulling open the metal doors, showing off a comprehensive, multi-coloured stock of dried and canned goods. "Or at least half a year, considering. Add to that, with the power turned back on, we've got functional bathrooms, showers…" Turning around to face Shepard again, she raised her brows, attentively.
"The communication network should still work as well," she added, obligingly. "Unless the damage to the relays messed with the satellite system somehow. Unlikely, seeing as the Reapers were mostly just trying to prevent us from using our most useful technology, and didn't really consider vidcomm communication all that important…" She frowned, thoughtful for a moment, before taking a quick, sharp breath in and returning her attention to Shepard once more. "But in the event that the vidcomm network doesn't work, there's always the old-fashioned method as well. E-mail still works just fine, as far as I can tell."
"How long are we going to be staying here, exactly?" Shepard asked, trying hard not to make a disconcerted face as her fingers played distractedly over the edge of one of the cans.
"Only about four months or so," Miranda answered, candidly, turning her attention up towards the lines of shelves as well and looking them over, thoughtfully. "You have to understand, Shepard, what we're doing here is a process. It's not like resetting a broken bone. What we're talking about is delicate, volatile medicinal science."
"Why did you bring me here, Miranda?" Shepard asked, all patience gone as she turned her gaze to her friend again, frank, no longer interested in humouring her deliberate ambiguity. "What are you planning to do? You wouldn't tell me back on Earth, and you wouldn't tell me on the ride over. I've been waiting and waiting but I can't wait anymore. Why am I here?"
Miranda paused at this question, seeming strangely unsurprised by Shepard's loss of patience, before letting out a soft sigh and dropping her gaze from the shelves again. "Follow me," she told her, solemnly, before turning away from Shepard again and waving an indicative hand, signifying for her to follow behind. Making her way past the darkened hallway, she led Shepard back towards the heart of the station, finally coming up on a short, broad set of stairs, which she led Shepard up towards what appeared to be a wide, open circular platform. The platform was ringed on all sides by empty gestation tanks in a number of shapes and sizes, and Shepard paused at the top of the stairs as she realized what she was looking at, unable to keep from frowning faintly as she looked around at the daunting display. Returning her attention to Miranda, she watched as she singled out one of the tanks, coming to stand in front of it and considering it with the pad of her thumb pressed contemplatively against her chin.
"The clone, if you'll remember, was… a knockoff, if you will," Miranda explained, seeming completely unfazed by how offputting this sector of the station had to be to someone unused to the sight of it. "A backup. As far as I know there shouldn't be anything left of the clone, herself, but with the Lazarus Cell destroyed by mechs…" Letting out a deep, frustrated sigh, Miranda shook her head, dropping her hand away from her face to instead fold her arms over her ribcage, each elbow resting in the opposite palm as she turned to look at Shepard again, her brow furrowing in disenchanted thought. "…This Station is all we have left of the Project," she told her. "Everything we have here is everything we have, and all we've got is what's left over from when they made the clone, so…" Biting down on her lower lip, she glanced over her shoulder towards the line of gestation tanks again, considering them thoughtfully. "Hopefully that will be enough," she finished, speaking barely loud enough for Shepard to hear her.
Shepard frowned, not quite understanding her explanation, letting her hand come to rest thoughtfully on her stomach as she dropped her gaze, puzzling over what she had just been told. "But…" she said, speaking slowly, trying to figure it out for herself. "But… if the Lazarus Cell is the facility with the advanced restorative technology, and this is just copying what they did, then this…" Lifting her gaze to Miranda again, she narrowed her eyes faintly, tilting her head inquisitively to one side. "This is just a cloning facility, Miranda," she observed. "How will that help? Are you intending to… clone… my baby…?"
"No," Miranda answered, quickly, shaking her head in return. "We don't have the resources to do that. The only reason this child has survived gestation as long as it has is because of the integrated Reapertech in your bodily makeup."
"She," Shepard corrected quietly, causing Miranda to look up at her in surprise.
"Beg pardon?" Miranda asked.
"She," Shepard repeated, a bit louder this time. "My baby… she's a she. Not an it."
Miranda hesitated, a bit thrown by this unexpected correction, before frowning slightly and turning back towards the line of gestation tanks, reaching out to touch the first one, as if trying to determine if it were a viable option for whatever she had planned. "The only reason she has survived thus far is because of your in-part Reapertech rebuild," she corrected herself, moving onward with the conversation. "Trying to clone a similar lifeform outside of your unique individual bodily system would result in disaster and inhumane failure. That's why I said I wasn't certain it would work. However…" Looking up towards Shepard again, she paused, tapping her thumb impatiently against the edge of the tank, before shaking her head and moving on to the next tank, a long, horizontal cistern that looked more like an odd aquarium than an artificial womb.
"I'm not going to clone your baby," Miranda told her, matter-of-factly, passing her hand thoughtfully over a long metal tube running from one end of the top of the tank to the other. "But I am going to try to clone your baby's healthy stem cells. I'm not entirely certain that will work, either, but I figure there's a better chance of that small endeavour working than attempting to clone an entirely new baby." Letting out another soft sigh, she frowned, gripping hold of the metal bar, before shaking her head and moving on to the next tank in the row, glancing back towards Shepard to make sure she was following behind her. "What I'm hoping to do is to steadily introduce a regimen of healthy restorative stem cells into your baby's injured nervous and cerebral system over the remainder of her gestationary period," Miranda explained, looking up towards a particularly tall incubation tank, her fingers playing distractedly against her thigh as she considered it. "With any luck, that should allow them to gradually repair the damage done by the Reaper's blast. I needed this particular experimental cloning technology because I'm positive that only your own baby's unique stem cells would be able to work… if this is destined to work at all."
Hesitating then, Miranda frowned, her gaze falling from the tank as she paused in her perpetual motion for the first time since entering the lab. Then, turning around to face Shepard again, she sucked in on her lower lip, taking a deep breath in, preparing for the worst. "This may very well fail, Shepard," she informed her, solemnly. "I don't want you to get your hopes up. To be perfectly frank, I'd be an optimist to assume there's even a…" She paused again, shaking her head, averting her eyes as she did some quick mental calculations. "Twelve percent chance this will actually succeed," she determined, returning her gaze to Shepard again. "And even if we do succeed in getting her brain to work again, there's a much greater chance after that that your baby will be… severely developmentally handicapped, from the time spent with no brain activity."
"How developmentally handicapped are we talking?" Shepard asked, her frown deepening, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie.
Miranda shook her head, wetting her lips slowly as she tried to determine the best way to explain her prediction. "Likely… talking would be out of the question," she finally answered, taking a deep breath in. "Walking… simple problem solving. It would be like having a one-month-old infant, only for… four or five years, most likely. I can't be certain a child in this condition, along with all her other anticipated genetic ailments, would be able to live much further past that." Folding her hands in front of her, she began to wring them, anxiously, hardly seeming to notice as she stared at Shepard, her expression falling even further, solemn and sympathetic. "If you want, if you would prefer not to go through with this, not… to put your child through that," she added, speaking slower, working carefully over her words. "I can go ahead and terminate your pregnancy… here. I figured you would prefer to have it done in private by someone you trust, rather than… some stranger in that hospital camp back on Earth."
Shepard faltered at this sentiment, taken aback, wondering for a moment if she had heard Miranda correctly. Then, taking a deep breath in, she wet her lips, shifting uncomfortably between her feet, before lifting her head, proudly, preparing to answer. "I appreciate that, Miranda," she told her, honestly. "But…" Pausing again, she bit her lip, her brow furrowing even further downward as she considered her options, weighing the possible, painful outcomes. "If this were… your child," she finally said, speaking slowly as she turned her attention up towards Miranda again. "If you had to choose between… termination, and… possible… inhumane failure…" She stopped again, trailing off once more, gritting her teeth as she steeled herself, pushing herself to keep speaking, to keep moving forward with her agonizing question. "If she were… your child," she said again, taking a deep, uncertain, shaking breath in. "What… would you do?"
Miranda seemed surprised at the question, her sculpted brows raising slowly upward as she considered how best to honestly answer. "If she were my child," she finally said, speaking just as slowly, considering her words. "I would take into consideration… the fact that, as much as I would love to be able to hold my child, to see my child… to love my child… it… you have to think about what would be best for her. Even if you do get to hold her… how long will it be? Minutes? Hours?" She frowned, seeming to be trying to convince herself not to visibly wince as she thought about what she wanted to say next. "Will it be harder to lose her now, before you've had a chance to know her, or after you've grown to love her, after three… four… even five years?" she asked, solemnly. "I think, if she were my child, I would…" She faltered, going quiet a moment, biting down gently on her plush lower lip as she prepared to give her final verdict. "…Try," she finally said, with quiet determination. "I would try everything I could… for her. Even with the probability of failure, even with such insurmountable odds… I figure, as far as this is concerned… it's better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all."
A thin, candid, almost breathless silence fell between them at this, and for a moment Shepard could only stare at Miranda, waiting for some reaction, some logical, scientific follow-up for why this decision was best for her, but Miranda only stood perfectly still, her arms crossed thoughtfully over her chest as she stared back at Shepard, just as resolutely, letting her answer sink in. Then, after a moment, Miranda took a sharp breath in, shaking her head and raising both hands in a gesture of interjection, breaking the contemplative silence. "But, that's not a discussion for now," she said, quickly. "You need to get some rest first, and I need to do some calculations. We likely won't get started for certain until a day or so has passed, to make sure we know what we're doing, but…" Turning to look back towards Shepard again, she paused, considering her, thoughtfully. "You're sure you want to do this, Shepard?" she asked, solemn and wary. "You don't have to go through with this just because I said I would. You're your own person, you know, and she… she's your baby, not mine."
"I know," Shepard answered, truthfully. "But I trust your judgement, Miranda. And… I want to hold her, too."
Miranda hesitated, absorbing this answer for a moment, before finally taking a deep breath in and turning away from Shepard, starting to head down the stairs towards the main lab. "Right," she said, shortly, waving a hand. "Well, you go get some sleep. Heaven knows you need it. You can find a map of the station at any doorway, but it should be fairly easy to navigate to the main sleeping quarters and back." Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she headed into the main lab, making her way to one of the computers and sitting herself down in front of it, turning the holographic monitor on and waiting as it slowly powered itself up. "I'll be here in the lab if you need anything," she told her, frankly. "The kitchen should be working by now if you're hungry, and there are restrooms are near the sleeping quarters in case you have to pee. And – Shepard?" Here, she paused, glancing back towards Shepard again, before her expression began to slowly soften, a small, almost grateful little smile touching her lips.
"…Thank you," she told her, quietly.