Pt. 2 Revolution

No matter how I've learned to cope with them as necessary evils, I have never developed any great love for surprises.

Ever since my early childhood, I have strongly preferred to analyze any and every possible outcome to a sequence of events. I want to know where I'm going, how many accessible exits there are, who I'm dealing with, how I'm getting there, how I could leave, why I'll be in the position in the first place, and what's going to happen depending on actions A, B, or C. Forethought tends to give me the more desirable advantage.

Surprises, on the other hand, have constituted themselves to be something of a hazard. Usually in my life they've begun with phrases like; 'guess who decided to defect', 'guess which terrorist is actually carrying the antimatter', 'guess what type of monster lives on this planet', 'guess who paid billions of credits to create you', 'guess who's going to remind you every waking moment', 'guess who forgot to double check security monitors', or my personal favorite, 'guess who's trying to kill you today.'

Perhaps those weren't all surprise. Nonetheless it's those types of awe inspiring phrases that can really melt a girl's heart, or inspire thoughts of running for your life.

So imagine the supreme rush of affection I felt for my maker the day I learned he planned to dispose of his latest failure. The surprise was that he had more than one. I was number seven.

It was early June when I stumbled upon the the file never meant for my eyes.

{From the Desk of Dr. T Chang By Executive Order of Henry Lawson}

Project Pilot: Start Date- 04/27/2141, Completed Embryo- 05/14/2141, Date of Termination- 11/30/2141

Project Eve: Start Date- 11/30/2141, Completed Embryo- 12/24/2141, Birthdate- 09/16/2142, Date of Termination- 09/28/2142

Project Eloise: Start Date- 09/29/2142, Completed Embryo- 10/30/2142, Birthdate- 07/23/2143, Date of Termination- 09/04/2143

Project Charlotte: Start Date- 09/04/2143, Completed Embryo- 10/02/2143, Birthdate- 06/25/2144, Date of Termination- 07/23/2146

Project Georgia: Start Date- 5/20/2144, Completed Embryo- 6/24/2144, Birthdate- 03/17/2145, Date of Termination- 11/30/2149

Project Sophie: Start Date- 11/01/2148, Completed Embryo- 11/20/2148, Birthdate- 08/30/2149, Date of Termination- 12/25/2150

Project Miranda: Start Date- 12/24/2149, Completed Embryo- 2/21/2150, Birthdate- 11/13/2150, Pending Authorized Termination- 12/01/2166 if Approved

'Pending Authorized Termination.'

For what felt like hours I was immobile. I remember my entire body going numb with immediate fear in my father's office. I had always despised the man. The extremities, impossible odds, and groundwork that he laid down for me made me resentful to begin with. But staring at the names of six lives- six elder sisters- he had created and wasted so frivolously, made the vile taste of revulsion creep up my throat.

Children. The one that lived longest, Georgia, had been four years of age when she had been murdered. And what of Sophie? Our times had coincided. Had she known me? Did any of them recognize the existence of their siblings? Georgia and Charlotte must have known each other, and Henry Lawson must have decided that gifting his prodigy a companion was degrading to her progress as a perfect heir. Conceivably discarding one had been a test of emotional or psychological endurance. Clearly, neither passed.

'Pending Authorized Termination.'

Nor had I.

I resolved myself to run.

Yet it was the eighth entry I found severely disconcerting.

Project Oriana: Start Date- 06/29/2165, Completed Embryo- 10/20/2165, Estimated Birthdate- 07/04/2166

Oriana.

My genetic twin.

My replacement.

My responsibility.

My little sister was growing in the bowels of Henry Lawson's private labs, and when she was deemed ready, she would be poised as yet another archetype of a perfect human being. She would be forced to endure every disturbing detail of my own upbringing combined with amendments where my father had failed with me- if she even lived as long as I had.

I would not allow that to happen.

I had options to consider:

First of all, bringing in the authorities was a very, very bad idea. My father had enough money to own Australia. Specifically in 2166, Australia's National Wealth accrued to a total of 800 trillion credits. Henry Lawson's net worth was .001% of that wealth. Child Services and the Board of Genetic Research Engineering would absolutely turn the other cheek for a few extra credits.

Not that I trusted them to begin with.

No, it wouldn't simply be a matter of the two of us leaving. We would be pursued and Oriana deserved a normal life. One filled with affection, parents that held her in the middle of the night to dispel the nightmares, where sometimes the biggest dilemma in her day would be deciding where to go to dinner. She could choose to make friends, what university to attend, to make her talents her own. Oriana would be happy. She would never be experimented on. She would grow up to define her own meaning in life. I had to ensure the safety of my father's investments and simultaneously destroy any opportunity he had of creating another heir.

So, I ran up hypotheses on where to find that type of protection. A place we could remain inconspicuous and unobtainable to Henry Lawson.

I knew of only one.

For nearly five months, I led Henry Lawson on to believe I was oblivious to his plans. After all, Father needed as much time to plot my execution as I did to earn the attention and trust of Cerberus.

November 12, 2166 / Hunter's Hill, Greater Sydney Metropolitan Area, NSW, Australia, Earth, Sol, Local Cluster / 19 years, 6 months, 11 days Pre Reaper invasion of Earth

I went to see Niket the day I ran.

"Sixteen tomorrow. Legally old enough to vote. Thoughts on registering?" He smiled warmly, baiting me for a debate as I shooed away a clown with a menacing leer.

Such cheap entertainment.

My lips pursed thoughtfully on the matter at hand. A perfect distraction to savor what could be my final moments with my best friend. "Registering doesn't seem like an option. Far too traceable."

Amusement settled into his eyes, just as I had expected. Niket was always a fan of human involvement in politics, and had developed a deeply rooted adoration for the Systems Alliance- an opinion I didn't necessarily share. I could respect the value of their ambitions to become a vital adversary in galactic affairs, but they were too bogged down by bureaucracy to accomplish anything truly remarkable for humanity. Not to mention their firewalls were designed for imbeciles and their leadership was craven.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and waved them at his sides good-naturedly before unscrewing a cap from a water bottle. "Indulge me, Miri. If you thought it best, what would you pick?"

He would not appreciate my answer.

Without missing a beat, I informed him, "Terra Firma."

A choking sound escaped his throat when his lungs rejected the liquid meant for his esophagus.

Figures.

After bestowing him a discreet thump on the back, he gawked aloud, "You can't be serious!"

I didn't usually joke. Maybe I did let my guard down around Niket enough to actually poke fun with him, but I was hardly ever dishonest with him. He was, after all, the only person in existence that could illicit a genuine smile or laugh from me. Blatantly lying to him was usually needless. Of course, in the following moments my upcoming news would require me to be relatively omissive. "Why not?"

Niket stuttered, "They- they're terrible! Look, I care for turians about as much the next guy, but you can't possibly support extruding them and every other race from our affairs. That'll jam us into the batarians' position. We need their experience in this new galactic community. Trade and commerce have skyrocketed since they've become involved. They've been around centuries longer than we have, and we might learn something valuable. Besides, a hefty concentration of Terra Firma is centered around the ideals of dominating and burning them to ground zero. It's an outdated political backwash party retaliating over the First Contact War."

"To muse about my possibly being a xenophobe is borderline imbecilic, Niket." Good-naturedly, I rapped his cheek with my forefingers.

I prefer for such information to be as lucid as possible. I held no animosity towards aliens. In fact, I could even admire the resourcefulness the asari had instilled upon themselves when they first discovered the relay network, and the vast influence they still maintained over the Citadel races. My desires were merely for humanity to obtain the same status.

"And I mean that in the absolute best possible way."

"Which is precisely the reason your choice baffles me," he conceded wryly. "You've always struck me more as a Clay Federation type."

"Too small and unfunded to have any clout in parliament."

"So, you would choose disillusioned radicals instead?"

"Xenophobia is ludicrous. Learning their languages - even with translators and all their faulty rewording- and culture are vital for business and politics alike. Aliens are a part of this galaxy whether or not anyone likes it, dubbing that prehistoric philosophy impractical." I scoffed. "What I support is Terra Firma's ideals for maintaining humanity's individuality. Preservation of culture. Making our own mark. We need to show the other races our potential. How powerful we are. We aren't to be trifled with, Niket. The batarians alone have already harassed us enough, don't you think? And the Alliance does nothing except shuffle their feet. The newest concubine in the Council's harem. Too shy to speak up or defend themselves."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"What?"

Under his soft, scrutinous stare I took note of just how hot my face had become. I hadn't raised my voice, no real emotion had slipped into my monologue apart from the acerbic twist of my features- and the sapphire aura wringing my wrists. It took me sometime to realize he was refraining himself from asking if I was really talking about humanity and our politics.

He shook his head and rapidly changed the subject. "How was your trip?"

Crumpling my nose, I flipped a switch, and donned mocking, haughty expression specifically for the maintenance boy escorting me down the boardwalk I wasn't supposed to be on. November's spring breeze blew in from the Tasman Sea and tussled my long hair, making me eternally grateful for the thermal wrap encircling my shoulders. "Esoteric."

"So elite on Beckenstein." Niket beamed broadly as he passed me fairy floss and a fresh bag of kettle corn he'd purchased from one of multiple vendors. There were fewer people roaming across the planks on this blustery early evening than there were most days, but the crowd was enough to remain inconspicuous. Exactly what was necessary to avoid my father's prying eyes and tyrannical nature.

"Entrepreneurs follow money like breadcrumbs. Sponsors make them flock." Making haste on the treat I led him towards the railing overlooking the rest of the bay. We leaned heavily against the barrier to watch the deceivingly small tide lap at the rocky break, refraining the more asthenic marine life in the area from escaping to far more dangerous open waters. Or, maybe it was to keep them trapped in shallow waters for aquatic birds of prey. Nature certainly had its way.

Mockery dripped through the notes of his tone as he shoved his hand into our plastic sack and extracted a large clump of nature's warm caramelized candy. "Damn them trying to make a living."

An unremarkable noise of dissatisfaction escaped my throat, and I narrowly avoided biting down on a kernel. A rare slip of my impeccable manners. "You know what I mean. They're just investing and selling out to my father because his cartel is intergalactically poignant." Acerbic acid laced my words. "That and as he parades me around as a pretty, little siren; reciting budget analyses and extracting business secrets from any competitor with my silver tongue, he has the opportunity to extort and proposition. Join, or die!"

Niket grunted in disgust. He maintained his own misgivings about my father's treatment of me. He'd been a personal witness as I was showcased, berated and humiliated for the most minor of blunders, treated more like a possession than a person. Other circumstances- drilled in intensive biotic combat for twelve hours straight as punishment for speaking out of term, forced to calculate and recite the precise amount of money down to the hundred-thousandth decimal the very fiber of my being cost to create and would continue to tax him each time I made the smallest of errors, and so on- were burdens I tried to make sure Niket did not undertake.

Instead I usually erred on the side of carefully monitored considerations of patricide to appease myself.

"The first wave of colonists based their economy on novelty tourist items for the Citadel. Not the brightest choice. This group is smarter. They've made a name for themselves developing luxury goods and commercial infrastructure. Being so close to the Citadel, they've opened up quite the market. I admire that tenacity. With a little push, the economy could boom. To make that happens though, they needed help. My father took interest in a weapons dealer- Donovan Hock, a former affiliate of Kassa Fabrications. He's got an affinity for the unscrupulously powerful of the galaxy."

He made a concerned face. "Your father is stacking up on firepower?"

"When hasn't he?" I countered, helping myself to the unnatural pink fluff on a stick.

Between the two of us- myself requiring nearly twice as many calories a day than an adolescent male to simply maintain my weight- we'd practically demolished every last morsel. Normally I adhered to the strict diet recommend by one of many doctors and scientists that poked and prodded Henry Lawson's pet project. Consisting of- but not restricted to- exact calorie intake per meal, which fruits and vegetables I was allowed to eat, an entire elimination of sweets, etcetera. In fact I had no idea what chocolate even tasted like until I was fifteen. One of many normalities Niket patiently introduced me to.

But I digress.

Guard forces at each of my father's estates and business complexes were well enough equipped and trained to face a small Alliance squad. After all, he had to protect his company's genetic research. Research deemed illegal- otherwise unethical- under all Council and Alliance space.

"Fair point." He nodded in understanding. Though not entirely aware of the extent of the illegalities Henry Lawson practiced- namely the amalgam of his own DNA he'd used to create myself and others like me- Niket was suspicious. My friend recognized the cruelties my father forced me to endure in public, so what he did behind closed doors was reasonably questionable.

"Mr. Hock deals heavily outside of Alliance jurisdiction." I was compelled to enlighten Niket. Perhaps making conversation would prolong the inevitable, but I was running on a tight schedule. I was more than ready to make my move.

Niket's eyebrows rose in interest. "And you know this how?"

"The usual way." I grinned wickedly.

Safeguards ran rampant through my father's networks, but he had been a fool to think he was capable of preventing an imprisoned, adolescent genius from discovering any and every detail of her history kept on and off file. Henry Lawson had tried to mold me into a savant of all trades, and espionage had become something of an entertaining pastime of mine. Bypassing cameras, decrypting locks into his bunkers, hacking terminals, and tapping into government frequencies were a few of my favorite activities. Keeping my tracks covered only added to the thrill.

But if my father had caught on earlier than he did, he probably would have planned to have had me anchored to the bottom of the harbor by cement much sooner than scheduled. Which is quite frankly a common method of disposing a body for murderers that live in coastal areas, and one I was not about to put past my father.

Niket thought so too. His inevitable reminder carried silently on the wind. "You need to be careful."

"It's too late for that," I whispered lowly. The surprise and frustration in Niket's eyes was never immediately vocalized. It was a rare day that he chose to disallow me an opportunity to explain myself. "I have to go, Niket. Tonight."

Understanding struck him fully, and his fist closed tightly around the virtually empty bag. Discussion of my imminent escape from my father's estate had been kept circumspect to elude suspicion, but had recently been subtly mentioned between us in passing. Running would take effort, and Niket had required a tad of forewarning.

A muscle at the base of his jaw twitched, either from worry or regret. "Where?"

"Terminus Systems maybe," I curtailed easily without a second thought.

Disclosing such an obvious location for a fugitive deterred him from further pondering my whereabouts. Commonly asked was the question, 'where else in the galaxy could the wanted hide?' I was far more resourceful than deserting permanently to a land of outlaws, but the less Niket knew, the better. A hard warning stare should have prevented him from pressing the issue of my security, but-

"He's going to chase you across the galaxy!"

There it is.

"I've procured a couple safeguards."

In fact one said precaution patiently awaited my presence by the end of the boardwalk.

"Like the other week when you procured barely hackable safeguards for Vahni's omni-tool?" He threw me an incredulous glare. "Now I can't scare away her boyfriends as easily."

I rolled my eyes. "Serves you right for trying to run her life."

"I'm her big brother. It's my job. You don't have a little sister. You wouldn't understand."

Oh, how mistaken he was.

"Then think outside the box if you want to get rid of those firewalls. A creative techy like yourself shouldn't have too much trouble, decoding a few software algorithms. What was it you so suavely told Amber? 'Stand back, babe. There's no network this stud can't break.'" I teased joyously... for maybe the last time.

"Oh. Ha. Ha." His ears shaded scarlet as he tried to dismiss his wounded ego. Niket glanced suspiciously over his shoulder to be sure we were separated from eavesdroppers. We were. Others were too busy keeping up with children, were wrapped up in the person hanging on their arm, or debating between the ferris wheel and bumper cars- neither of which I'd been on that evening. I had been monitoring the local vicinity, albeit in a much less obvious way than via omni-tool. "What's your plan of action, Miri?"

The slightest of frowns broke through the mask I slipped on so easily. Truthfully there was still one minor detail I needed to amend before I could set out, but it wasn't safe to divulge. Not in public and not to anyone. My two main goals in that conversation were to put Niket's mind at ease when he discovered me missing-to know not to look for me, and to make him take heed in case Father pursued him for information regarding my whereabouts. "I break out, make a mad dash, and catch a shuttle off Earth."

"Why not leave once we're done here?"

"I've got a few loose ends to tie up."

"Always vague," He breathed out dejectedly. No matter how sourly disappointed he was, my friend was wise enough to refrain from pleading for more details regarding my grand escapade- to know I'd be safe. Niket was never very skilled at masking his emotions. War between frustration and deep concern raged across his features as he reeled on me. Brown eyes bore holes into the side of my head instead of the gray horizon beyond. "Are you sure you'll be alright? I-"

"I can take care of myself," I snapped.

The paperweight I'd swiped from Hock's inventory suddenly felt heavy in the holster beneath my wrap. Father had never allowed me to carry a firearm outside of the weaponry in the shooting range, and I had never been dense enough to ask. My biotics were already lethal enough to withhold a decent fight, but the razer pistol I'd smuggled back to Earth unnoticed would ensure my odds of success.

"I know," he conceded. "We've talked about it-you running away. Just, you've grown up in this glass palace, and you've had whatever you could ever want placed at your discretion on a silver platter. Unlimited credits. Won't the adjustment be, uh, culture shock?"

"You don't think I know how I've been raised?" I snapped icily, wrenching my eyes off the sea and shooting daggers at Niket. "I'm reminded ritually every bloody day about what I've been given, and how I'm designed to repay it all tenfold. Like it's a chore to provide shelter for his ungrateful, unwilling, genetic mutt! It's a pendulum swung over my head the size of a goddamn anvil. Do you know what it's like to be reminded every time you make a breakthrough in studies designed for people twice your age, or every time you formulate a more profitable budget outlook for your father's entire empire, that it's not your doing? That it's because your genes were diligently chosen, bought, and paid for? Do you know what it's like to fall asleep calculating the price of every breath you're going to take throughout the night? Or how it feels to be terrorized over the mere idea of asking for a glass of water because your existence adds to the bill? How about wishing you could just pay it all back with credits instead of some absurd, unfeasible assignment? To know that your failures are the only things you can take responsibility for because you don't deserve recognition for anything else, or the things you've been given? Anything is better than being a prisoner to self-deprecation."

"..."

"..."

"I'm sorry." Niket finally collapsed the silence. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's alright." I sighed and leaned forwards on my elbows. "My life has never been mine. I was born in a decorative prison. Makes sense to see it as a swanky kingdom."

"I know he's never treated you kindly." He admitted softly, patting my shoulder.

"I don't care whether he's decent to me," I denied harshly. My own experience with the patriarch dominating my life was not number one on my list of concerns, but escaping for the sake of my sanity and vitals were certainly close seconds. "Leaving is the most practical solution."

"So, what do you need from me?"

I smiled half-heartedly. "Does Sanjay still work for that taxi service?"

"Yeah, they overlooked his last speeding ticket. Mom and Dad weren't happy, but the company just buried their heads in the sand."

"Hah, you're kidding! Incompetent oversight on their part, or the Department of Transportation's?"

"Both. I told him he was lucky."

"He is," I agreed. "Anyways, I need you to have a car tonight in case things get messy, and my father goes for you."

"Wait! How messy are we talking about here?"

I gave him a hard state.

"Uh, yeah. Okay. I can do that." He nodded and pressed a few buttons on his omni-tool, double checking Sanjay's schedule. "When would I possibly need it?"

"By my estimates- two hours, fifteen minutes, and seventeen seconds from now."

"Oddly specific," Niket inquired with a raised brow.

I shrugged. "I'm regimented."

"A blind man could see it," he agreed with added cheek. "You know? A normal person would have just said, a little bit after 9:30."

2132. I almost couldn't help my need to correct him, but then...

"Wait a minute! You're tallying every minute of this conversation."

"Down to the second." I had a very strict schedule to adhere to. Countless years and days of monitoring the rotations of Father, his staff, and most importantly his security- had led me to deduce the patterns of their movements with a science. Their breaks, their duties, blind spots in their watch- all provided me with minimal, specific windows of opportunity for bypassing as much resistance as possible.

"How many do we have left?" There was what I had come to recognize as genuine curiosity in his eyes. No longer did I 'completely' doubt Niket at face value.

"One hundred and thirty-seven."

"Wow. Alright. What is that, about two minutes? Isn't all that counting distracting?"

"No." My brain had been constructed to process information at a much faster rate than an average genius. "Second nature."

"Hmm. Good to know." Contemplatively, Niket nodded. "Anything else?"

"There is actually."

What I would ask him next could have very easily cost Niket his life if my father ever discovered the part he would play in my escapade. After all, Henry Lawson had no trouble condemning those that chose to defy him- a record that disturbed me greatly. Perhaps he did suspect Niket's involvement, and my friend's eventual fate was punishment for the both of us.

But, I can only speculate.

"Which is?"

Reflecting back on my actions, it's possible to make a conjecture that I more than seized advantage of Niket's generosity. At the time, I paid no conscious consideration to the idea, and I was unsure of the instinctive feelings that attempted to waver my overpowering logical direction. But, now in hindsight I can recognize the... emotion for what it was. Guilt weighted in my chest heavily, yet I reasoned it away the same as any other.

"When you go into work tonight, head to Security Station B. There will be an unanticipated malfunction in the power systems for a few minutes, and they'll ask you to repair the cameras. Set the vid feed to loop at precisely 2130. Not a minute before or after. Can you handle that? If not, I'll do it."

Determination set across his features. "Of course I can. But, how do you know they'll ask for me specifically?"

I tossed our trash in the nearest recycling bin with a degree of smugness. "I've already taken the liberty of rewriting your supervisor's schedule. Everyone else will be occupied with their own dilemma in D-Wing before your shift even starts."

"Aren't you resourceful," he complimented, returning my smile. "So, am I only one that gets a goodbye in person?"

"I don't have other friends, Niket. I have contacts. Contacts are expendable when necessary." True friends were the only ones that deserved a farewell, and I only had one.

"Aw, Miri, I'm non-expendable," he gushed. An air of amusement had flooded his adenoidal tone. Aside from that he seemed truly flattered.

My blue eyes rolled dramatically. "Well, I'm not throwing you away just yet. You could still prove yourself useful to me."

He smiled, though he knew I was mostly sincere. I could release him if my needs demanded it, but I had no desire to. I wanted to walk away with one good thing from this life.

"I'm eternally grateful." Less humor this time, more seriousness. "We'll stay in touch, right?"

"I can't promise anything," I reluctantly told him. "But, I want to. If I achieve the desired outcome- and I always do- I will contact you within five solar days."

He grinned. "You're gonna make me worry that long?"

I scowled dryly. "You'll be fine, Niket. Nothing to concern yourself with when it comes to me."

"If you say so."

"I do say so, and I should go."

Lacking any predatory advances, he leaned close and placed a quick, chaste kiss on my forehead. Simply a familial gesture to let me know that I was important to him. Niket had never asked for more. He was safe, comfortable. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Miri."

I returned his gesture in kind by pecking his cheek, sparing him a final smile, and lurking away with defined purpose.

Several hundred feet out of Niket's line of sight, a male figure tailed my every step. A block away from the skycar he had taken me to the boardwalk in, my keeper sidled up to me. To keep fellow pedestrians at bay, we exchanged amiable smiles as he greeted me, "Is the air cleared, Miss Lawson?"

"I'd prefer not to discuss it, Commander." I kept my pace even and my eyes straight ahead.

"Fair enough." The dark-haired gentleman consented with a kind nod. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early forties with a considerate, disciplined disposition. In the two months I had known him, the commander had proven himself very reliable when it came to not crossing personal boundaries.

We remained in relative silence until we were seated inside the car. Along the way I picked up on odd conversations occurring between the bystanders on the boulevard, simply to put into practice what the commander had begun teaching me. Most were trivial: a break-up here, a discussion about midterm exams there. It was the man on the phone with his attorney regarding tax evasion that caught my interest. I sniggered silently, and my teacher caught my eye with a certain mirth.

"Here," he murmured once we were in the air, passing me a heavy pistol. "Put this in that holster of yours, and rearrange it a bit. Security shouldn't see it the way you have it now, but you never know."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, and I revealed the Razer beneath my wrap. "I already have one."

He eyed me incredulously. "And how do you know it'll work? Better yet, have you ever fired one?"

I hadn't actually tested the brand new weapon. For all I knew, the manufacturers could have bungled the firing mechanism, or the chamber. In fact, most of my weapons experience consisted of firing classic 12-gauge shotguns for sport. The commander had been the first to show me how to use a pistol. They handled very differently.

My keeper made a good point, but I countered with, "How do you know that'll work?"

Another disbelieving stare. "It is an M-3 Predator. I had you use it last week. Cerberus loves giving these to their agents. Besides, I have been using that one since First Contact. It's saved my life more than once. I would not give you anything I wouldn't use myself."

The unloaded gun in my hands felt a little bit heavier all of a sudden. Was the story supposed to soften me up? Or, was it a legitimate gift from a mentor? I had yet to decide. But for the time being, it was best to appease the man Cerberus had placed me into the custody of. So, I did what any good student would do, obediently followed instructions, and accepted the peace offering. "Thank you."

The commander gave me lopsided smile as the skycar descended undetected into the wooded boondocks of my father's property. "I'll move up half a klick closer to the stables in case you require my assistance. Radio me if you need any back up."

"Acknowledged," I muttered, double checking my limited equipment in the backpack security had seen me depart for my walk with.

"Good luck, kid."

A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry for the little delay there in getting this chapter out. This was going to be much bigger, but I've split it into two, so I'll try to bust out the other one for you guys by the end of the week. And I'll reveal who Miranda's mentor is, and what went about with her pairing up with a Cerberus Operative. Thanks for all the faves, follows, and reviews! You guys are amazing!

Please leave a review with your thoughts!

02/24/2014- I've made some serious provisions to the next four chapters- chapters 1-5- regarding Laira's role, and adjustments to grammar. Including this one.