The Lazarus Years

Pt. 1 Calm Before the Storm

2345 Hours, Tuesday, January 07, 2183 / Cartagena Station, Cartagena System, Norma Cluster, Nemean Abyss / 3 years, 4 months, 16 days Pre Reaper invasion of Earth

"...With hopes to bring an end to the hostilities between the batarians and the rest of the civilized galaxy." The salarian representative concluded.

Immediately, the crowd was in uproar. Many stood, shaking their fists in indignation, several vocalized their deeply rooted opinions- especially the humans in the audience.

"Batarians can't be trusted!" One protested.

"Keep them off the Citadel!" Another agreed.

The vid screen froze and shrunk in the upper left corner to dilate the news anchor presenting this incredibly controversial piece. She kept her expression placid and as unbiased as possible, but when she spoke I found myself wondering if I was detecting considerable distaste laced through her words. Many humans held a keen sense animosity towards the hegemony, even anchors on the Alliance News Network.

Not surprising.

"This was the scene that unfolded earlier this morning, after the announcement of the upcoming visit of the batarian ambassador, Jath'Amon. The first official visit to the Citadel by a Batarian in more than a decade. However, the subsequent attack this evening by batarian terrorists on the human-owned cruise liner, Arcturian Jade- reportedly saved singlehandedly by a former Alliance marine- has left many wondering if a far greater strike can be expected from these terrorists. Despite the uproar of the citizens on the Citadel, little has been done to quell these suspicions. The Council refuses to postpone Jath'Amon's visit. They seem to believe that this proposed meeting is the best hope for peace between the estranged batarians and the Systems Alliance. The summit between the Batarian Hegemony and Citadel Council is still scheduled to take place ten days from today on Friday, January 17."

The vid screen froze. It was the same report that had been recycled for hours on end. The only new detail was the fact Arcturian Jade had been boarded by batarian terrorists, but were overthrown by the ship's small security force and an anonymous former Alliance marine. Of course, I already knew everything I needed to about him: Lieutenant Jacob Taylor, member of the 2nd Frontier Division formerly stationed on Eden Prime, a part of the 232 division attacked at the scientist's camp the month earlier during the geth insurgency of the once tranquil colony. The brigade had fared well in comparison to the 212- which only had one surviving member. His track record was spotless, and he'd proven a willingness to defend others. Regardless, Jacob Taylor had decided to take a sabbatical immediately after the remaining citizens evacuated. Either to process the losses of his unit, or the way the Alliance had downplayed the incident.

More importantly, he had served under Major Derek Izunami- an avid Cerberus liaison and former acquaintance.

I glanced back at my console to find a pair of cybernetic, illuminated blue eyes shift over a vid screen of his own that was not in my view. This evening he wore another of Giuli Vorn's 2300 thread count auburn suits, and a cigarette was held in a heavily bejeweled hand. His thick peppered hair was combed neatly back in its usual pompadour, and his voice was gravelly. "Did you receive all of that, Miranda?"

The Nemean Abyss wasn't exactly known for its consistently competent communication bouys.

"Yes, sir," I confirmed as I tried to keep the sleep from my voice. I had already rubbed it from my eyes by the time I'd dragged myself from my temporary bed, and wrapped a shawl around my shoulders to intercept the vid call. "These extremists are becoming audacious. They'll succeed in their attempt assassinate the ambassador without the Citadel taking any precautions- in spite of their failed usurp of the Jade."

"We just need the evidence to put a stop to it." The Illusive Man took a drag on his cigarette before placing it into an ashtray. "Recruit this Jacob Taylor to assist looking into your leads. I'm aware that you're more than capable of handling this mission, but he may prove useful."

As cannon fodder in case I need to kick down a few doors? I kept that thought private, and instead reassured my boss. "I'll see what he knows about the batarians, and their plans for the Citadel. I'm sure he'll be willing to help look into it."

"Good," He gave a satisfied nod, and paused before disconnecting. "Oh, and, Miranda. One more thing. I thought you should know that the geth have hit Feros."

For a split second, my eyebrows shot up in surprise. "When?"

"Just before midnight yesterday."

I scratched at my collabone as I deduced the implications of what this meant for Cerbrus and the colony. Feros' true purpose had been well hidden, and we had paid ExoGeni superbly to keep it that way. But someone, somewhere in the chain of influence, must have let slip the identity and abilities of Species 37. I wondered aloud, "Why would the geth be after the Thorian? It only affects organic minds."

The Illusive Man pursed his lips. "Perhaps they were ordered to destroy it."

I frowned skeptically. My mind went to the only sapient known to supposedly be capable of commandeering synthetics. The man humanity's newest and only Spectre, Lieutenant Commander Shepard had sworn to be at the heart of the massacre on Eden Prime. "Saren?"

"Saren Arterius has always been fascinated by the possibilities of indoctrinating autonomy impairment," He told me, and for a moment I almost believed I caught disdain in his voice for the rogue turian. "But, he also has a short temper. If he was denied the opportunity to further his research, he may have decided to dispose of it. Or, to simply clean up after himself."

It was a rare day that I doubted the Illusive Man's judgement or knowledge of the world. I trusted him almost implicitly. For every sacrifice and measure of protection he had offered my sister, and for the opportunity and confidence he placed in me. Throughout the years, I had done everything in my power to repay him. And, the Illusive Man had made me his right hand, one of his top agents through which his greatest influence was shed. It was a role that gave me purpose.

Still, it was an even rarer day that I positively inferred he was speaking from personal experience. I understood him well. Probably more than most. I garnered his motivations, recognized his goals, inferred the reasoning behind his tactics. For awhile, I even came under the notion that I knew who he was. But whoever he had been before Cerberus- the one that had offered me salvation, before his manifestation into what he became during the Reaper War, the person that I later discovered had in fact worked alongside Saren Arterius many years earlier after the First Contact War- was no longer there at the end.

"The colonists on Feros are already under the control of the Thorian. It wouldn't do Saren any good to try enslaving a population under its influence. What could he possibly be looking for? He hates humans. He would much sooner kill them than turn them into his minions." I shook my head as I vocalized my deduction on the former Spectre's interest in the plant's mind control abilities. The colonists had been a safe, control group that had been well taken care of, and reportedly they still had a sphere of autonomy. Now, though they were in grave peril, and none knew how the Thorian would react to its thralls' endangerment. Or it's own.

"Don't be so quick to dismiss the idea that he may want to learn to control humans."

"I haven't. I just doubt that's his sole reason for being in Zhu's Hope."

"As do I." He agreed.

I paused for a moment, pondering a concern of mine I had not yet vocalized to the Illusive Man. "Sir, there is one thing I don't understand...Why would the geth obey Saren? He's an organic, driven by flesh and blood and emotion. Unshackled synthetic intelligence would never willingly follow him. It isn't computable. There must be...something else driving them."

"I do have a theory. Perhaps Saren and his geth actually serve the same master."

I frowned. "But, who- or what- would be influential enough to dissuade organics and synthetics that haven't been heard from in almost three-hundred years?"

The Illusive Man shifted in his chair, and glanced at me for the first time during our conversation. "Miranda, how well versed are you on the fall of the Prothean Empire?"

I suppose it wasn't a surprising question. Saren had pursued a prothean beacon on Eden Prime. But, I was still uncertain as to where all of these correlations lined up. I folded my arms across my chest. "Enough to get by."

"When you have the time, read up on the para historical supposition on Reapers."

I tilted my head to the side by a fraction of an inch. "Reapers?"

"It's incredibly unusual for such a grandiose galactic power to vanish so suddenly. Don't you think?" He coyly teased my curiosity again. "I believe you'll be very intrigued by what you find, Miranda."

"I'll look into it. Do we have anyone looking into Feros?" I asked, changing the subject, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

"We intercepted an Alliance transmission early this morning. Commander Shepard and his team have been tasked with securing the colony, and investigating the geth presence. They should arrive within the next twenty-eight hours."

My head bobbed thoughtfully in the affirmative motion. If there was one thing Shepard was good at- as evidenced by the sparse interview following his Spectre induction circulating the media, his dossier on his service history, and the multitude of Cerberus bases he had recently eradicated- it was digging up details, helping the helpless, and fighting for a cause. "The colonists may not fare well until then, but he'll get the job done."

The Illusive Man raised an amused eyebrow. "You have faith in him, Miranda?"

"He's an Alliance poster child. Raised on space stations, humanity's finest ways of thinking have been drilled into his core since early childhood. Shepard lives and breathes Alliance doctrine. He'd probably cut off his hand if they gave him the order." I said harshly. "But for now, yes. He's effective enough for me to come to the conclusion that he's far more intelligent than the average marine. There's no doubting his abilities...and humanity admires him."

Clearly, I hadn't been enamored with Commander Shepard like so many others- even several Cerberus members I had thought of as scholarly. This was a bias I'd formed of anyone that left authority unquestioned. Granted, it was not fair. And, at that point in history, my impression of Shepard was that of an unacquainted, unconvinced bystander. I would be in for quite the shock when we did finally make each other's acquaintance.

"They certainly do." The Illusive Man consented before wishing me luck, and sending me on my way.

I rubbed beneath my eyes again, and stifled a yawn. I had one final task to complete before hauling myself back beneath my covers to collect the few hours of sleep I could afford.

The voice on the other end of the secured, vocal line answered after only four rings. He cleared his throat groggily. "Major Derek Izunami speaking."

"Hello Major, this is Miranda Lawson."

"Miss Lawson! To what do I owe the pleasure...at this ungodly hour?" His chipper voice grew exasperated.

"I apologize for the intrusion. But, I've got information that there might be an attack on the Citadel, timed to coincide with Ambassador Jath'Amon's visit. You'll be interested in hearing out my request."

1600 Hours, Friday, January 10, 2183 / Fringe Bar, Cartagena Station, Cartagena System, Norma Cluster, Nemean Abyss / 3 years, 4 months, 13 days Pre Reaper invasion of Earth

Throughout all of my nineteen years, two months, and ten days with Cerberus; I travelled the galaxy many times over, obtained a dexterity for a multitude of professions and skills, became acquainted with a menagerie of individuals, and in the beginning- I wore a plethora of masks.

There was Johanna Ericsson, an heiress. Daughter to an influential businessman that had broken from her father's influence to start a career and earn her own keep of the luxury sports car and penthouse flat on Illium as she tired away as Inez Simmons personal assistant. A hard-worker with management skills and a trustworthy disposition, Ericsson was the last person Miss Simmons expected to peer too closely into her expenses and uncover the kickback scandal that gave leeway to her removal from her position as political party leader for Terra Firma.

There was Mia Walker, a pharmaceutical tech that had been hired by the public face of New Dawn Pharmaceuticals. Good with numbers and chemistry, Walker had been assigned by one branch to concoct substances that were not aligned with neither the public's, nor Cerberus' needs, in exchange for under the table payments. They hadn't expected her to be unappreciative of laundered income and report her findings to the Illusive Man.

There had been Alena Becker- Eclipse initiate.

Mira Vaughn. Andi Dawson. Both analogues.

But, much of the time- especially after I'd created such an intricate web of contacts that made providing an alias needless- I was Miranda Lawson. It was simpler- in areas I was known- to not go by an identity thought up at the drop of a hat. And even in the outlaw-filled Nemean Abyss, I was recognizable by a few as the focused, severe Cerberus operative.

Of course, that day on Cartagena Station, there was only one person I anticipated to identify me in any capacity. Jacob Taylor had never seen my face, yet I had seen his on more than one occasion over the past few days. Apart from hiring a corsair, there was no need to show my face. By all accounts, Cartagena's crime ratio had been fairly low recently. At least, as far as the hostile takeovers went.

Which only meant the station's luck was running out.

I had arrived at The Fringe ten minutes before our designated meet time. I slyly slunk into a barstool in the corner of the bottom floor, ordered a glass of an asari wine, and turned my attention to the datapad in the palm of my hand to appear occupied and dissuade others from approaching me. There were no further updates in the news regarding Jath'Amon's visit to the Citadel, but the media had publicized geth sightings on Feros. Withheld were the reports of an actual attack, however.

I sipped steadily on the glass of the fermented, alien variation. The sweetness that washed over my tongue was akin to a plum, coupled with the faint dryness that was present in all alcoholic beverages. I was thankful there were no traces of apple. Generally speaking, asari had taken quite a liking to human fruits, and had engineered their own versions. Most popular on their list were Golden Thessian apples.

I hummed to myself in disappointment over the lack of intriguing articles currently circulating the extranet when a large, armored hand settled on the counter just to my right. My eyes flickered upwards to peer out beneath loose strands of onyx hair to find a large, grizzly fellow looming over the counter.

"Pardon my reach, lass," He apologized as he grasped for the drinks the bartender had prepared.

"Not a problem." I reassured him passively as I made a point of glancing upwards to inspect the intruder. The moment I caught sight of the cybernetic replacement swirling in his right eye socket, I knew exactly who he was. His face had been plastered on warrants all across the station.

Clint 'Black-Eye' Darragh flashed a bright smile at me before turning on his heel, and heading up the stairs to the second floor where the rest of his motley crew awaited his return.

The fact that a notorious pirate band had infiltrated the station did not perturb me. I'd dealt with far worse than a ragtag group of criminals in the Nemean Abyss. However, I found their sudden innocuous appearance irrevocably annoying. If the pirates found themselves in a squabble with C-Pat- the station's police force- the Fringe would either be taken hostage, or evacuated. I would have to lurk elsewhere in search of Jacob Taylor, and I did not wish to waste my time because of an inconsequential power struggle.

At least they haven't started anything.

Coincidentally in the sane moment, gunfire erupted from just outside the bar. I rolled my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose as I anticipated the following string of events. A shot rang up in the air to absorb the attention of fellow patrons. A few screams of surprise bounced off the walls and pillars, but ultimately, most of the expressions on the sea of faces from every species- apart from the traces of fear- were those of acceptance and boredom. Like the citizens of Cartagena had expected to find themselves at the heart of raid any day now. The music died, and a wave of silence overcame the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I could the bartender subtly reach beneath the counter to press an emergency call button.

"No one leaves!" Darragh shouted to the patrons on his second-story level. "This is a holdup. Any of ya' try anything funny, you'll be put down. Understand?"

As the old pirate's crew encircled the group of customers on the top floor, many of the people on the bottom floor took their cue to scurry away before the situation could worsen. Others- either brave, stupid, or with a job to do- like myself, remained seated and chattering, otherwise ignoring the hostage situation upstairs as a jazzy tune returned to the loud speakers. Tensions were still high with the random intervals of gunfire slowly approaching, but after fifteen minutes, both patrons and pirates seemed to find a rhythm of minding their own business.

When The Fringe's doors were finally flung open to the rat-a-tat of artillery and clanking heavy boots, many like myself had expected C-Pat. Instead, we intercepted a sole figure in unmarked armor. An assault rifle was held firmly in his grasp, and a faint blue glow around his shoulders indicated that his biotics were cooling down. With a clean-shaven head and aggressive stance, it was clear that this day was not his first in combat. He threw a steady glare at the pirate stepping up to the top of the stairs as he careened to halt, weighing his options. Anticipating potential trouble for him, I clenched my fist, prepared to unleash my biotics if fate should have it.

Ah, well, there's my contact.

"Come no closer, young man, or I'll fill you full of holes." Black-Eye threatened. He leveled the barrel of his gun at the newcomer. From the balcony beside his loyal men remained fixed on their vigilance around the hostages.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Jacob struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"The name's Black-Eye. 'Black-Eye' Darragh," He claimed proudly, pounding his chest in a show of bravado. "You may have heard of me."

Jacob gestured disdainfully to the captives behind the mad pirate. "Why hold these people hostage?"

"Because they were here when the patrol officers outside started shooting," Darragh answered honestly. "Why else?"

Jacob quirked an eyebrow. "Don't you have demands?"

I really don't have time for this, I harrumphed in silence fully prepared to order myself another drink, or step up to the plate in case Jacob actually needed my help.

"Demands?" Darragh gawked as though Mr. Taylor had just told him he could survive the vacuum of space without respiratory equipment, lowering his gun in the process. "You think I'm stupid enough to invade Cartagena Station, then issue demands? We're not here to make demands. Just to get a cold drink and a bit of a breather."

"You didn't come here to just have drinks." Taylor decided after giving Darragh a thorough once over.

A mixture of surprise and confusion etched its way across the old pirate's face. "I didn't? And why is that?"

"Cartagena's too well defended. You knew you'd be caught if you came here."

Darragh laughed. "Hah! So what, I wanted to be caught? That what you're sayin'?"

The marine shrugged. "That's what I'm saying."

Grumbling under his breath, Clint Durragh flicked his fingers downwards in a signal for his men to lower their weapons. "Aw, damnit. I think you're right. I'm just so bloody tired. I'm getting too old for this shit."

"Turn yourself in, Darragh," Jacob insisted as C-Pat officers stormed through the door.

"I swear, I hate you Alliance crewcuts. You throw everything off balance." He swore before reeling on the police. "Alright. Take me into custody, you C-Pat wing nuts! This is the day you threw Black-Eye Darragh in jail!"

Two C-Pat officers clawed for Darragh's arms, and placed him in omni-shackles. Steaming angry, Darragh was dragged away like animal as Jacob Taylor stood watch. One of the officers shook his hand in gratitude before he turned to survey the room, searching for his contact.

I will admit, I was impressed and slightly sympathetic for the man hauled away to end a life of crime. I suppose we all get what we deserve.

When Jacob finally caught my eyes steadily upon him, I took a sip of wine and explained, "I thought you'd be taller."

A/N: Hello, guys! Sorry for the slight delay with this one. I'll bust out the next by the end of this week hopefully! Thanks so much for you follows, favorites, and reviews! They mean a lot, and they're very encouraging. So, please keep 'em coming.

Update: 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.