Local Cluster, Rhea
I don't understand. Where're you going?
There's nothing here for me, April. Except you. You are the only one who sees the truth.
Funny. When she thought about it now, Shepard wished she had told Lance the only truth she saw was someone who was as unhappy as she. They came together because they saw the loneliness in each other, the craving for companionship. The same desire to get out of the circumstance they were in. They both wanted freedom. He was an idealist with ambitions while she wanted to get out of the cycle of being unceremoniously plucked up and dumped on dreary planets with grey domes and prefabs before she had time to get her bearings. That he chose to join Terra Firma should not be a surprise. They were a match made in heaven. So what did he have in mind now? Why had he chosen to reach out to her?
The turmoil twisting in Shepard was clear to Hiaras. Telienos was right to worry. The mild disturbance she felt since they left Thessia was now a stronger pressure she could taste more easily. A development she was warned to watch out for. If it should continue to build, the possibility of the strain becoming too great might overwhelm the protective barrier. Hiaras was confident Shepard wouldn't buckle so easily despite her ignorance of the esoteric functions of mind melding and discipline. The human's accomplishments were a testament of her unrelenting will. She would surmount the problems.
The main facility was heavy with security. Marine sentries were visible in every corridor. Staff and researchers appeared and disappeared at random in their perpetual circulation of their duties. Other than curious glances, none ventured to speak to the little group as they followed Makris down the corridor to medlab. Hiaras kept one eye on her surroundings, the other on her charge while at the same time, she made sure that Descroix didn't get too close to Shepard. Whatever it was he intended, she was going to make sure there was no opportunity for him to act or speak in private with Shepard. She eyed major Makris as she glanced around. He outranked the lieutenant but didn't rein him in. Wasn't he in charge?
She sneaked a look at Shepard's stern profile as she played over the cryptic message in her mind. Was this Lance more than friend? A lover from her past? It was easy to jump to that assumption. Who could define the bonds of friendship? Her gaze sharpened when a woman in a white and green uniform rounded the far corner. The woman halted with an air of expectancy when she saw them. A beautiful woman with raven dark hair swept back neatly from a pale face.
The sternness abated from Shepard when she saw her. Her steps quickened. "Miranda." She removed her helmet and reached for the other woman, glad to see a familiar old face.
"Shepard."
Miranda returned the hug, surprised at the swell of feelings that threatened to swamp her. To say that she was glad to see Shepard was erroneous, she was really happy to see her. Like a family member she had not seen for a long time, she realised.
But of course she is. After all that we have gone through together.
"I thought you might still be hanging around here." Shepard grinned.
"I'm tenacious."
Miranda glanced at the scowling face of Descroix behind the asari commando, noting how she deliberately put herself in the way when he tried to move nearer to Shepard. A personal guard? Liara must be feeling protective or whoever it was that arranged the extra security. She approved.
"If I don't plan to go, nothing can make me." The lieutenant's face darkened further. He knew that was directed at him. "We don't have much time, Santino is moribund." She gestured for them to follow her.
"I didn't think he would hang on this long," Shepard muttered, more to herself than to Miranda.
"He didn't have a choice."
"What do you mean?" Shepard asked, startled. Would the Alliance forcibly keep him alive on life support?
"Have a look yourself," said Miranda as they stopped outside a secured door. She placed her palm on the identity scanner. The door open to a small closed off medbay. Speaking briefly to the medtechs seated at the consoles ranged behind a viewing window, Miranda beckoned to Shepard to enter the isolation ward.
"I'm sorry lieutenant," she said to Descroix when he tried to follow, "you have to stay outside."
A mixture of disappointment and fury crossed Descroix's face before it went blank. Makris stood behind the medtechs, ignoring the lieutenant's rebuking glare for his failure to speak up. Shepard moved towards the door of the isolation ward. She hooked her helmet to her belt as she exchanged a look with Hiaras who planted herself at the entrance; no one else was going in.
The smell of antiseptics and drugs in the room hit Shepard when the door opened. The overpowering stink sent her back briefly to that Cerberus laboratory in which she woke to her second life. Her breath caught. Her eyes widened when she saw the skeletal frame of a man lying on the medbed. Santino's closed eyes were sunk so deep, the skin so leathery and stretched, his head resembled a skull.
"Are you certain he's alive?" she asked in horror, hardly believing the monitors registered a heart beat.
"He should be dead," said Miranda, her voice harsh as she approached the medbed. "We've been feeding him the necessary fluids to keep him going but they're not what's keeping him here."
Was it possible? Shepard stared down at Santino. Was it possible Lance had arranged this?
"We tried various stimuli but he's not responding. I'm not sure if you would be able to get anything out of him." When Shepard made no move, Miranda added, "Whatever you have to do, do it now."
Bending slightly towards Santino's ear, Shepard said, "Saben, can you hear me?" There was barely a twitch. "Saben, truth hates delay."
Silence. Was he too far gone to respond to the key? Shepard looked at Miranda who shook her head; she had no answers. A gasping moan jerked her head around. Santino's skeletal frame twisted, white milky eyes stared up sightless as thin, almost fleshless lips formed words. No, not words, Shepard realised. Numbers. He was reciting a string of numbers. Code? To what? Again Miranda shook her head to her enquiring gaze; the numbers were a cipher to her. The recital came to an abrupt end. He screamed. The pure bloodcurdling agony in his voice froze them. The next moment, an alarm shrilled.
"What's happening?" Shepard shouted when Santino jackknifed violently. Clapping her hands on his shoulders, she held him down before he fell off the medbed.
"He's flat lining," Miranda said tensely. Every reading on the monitoring screens began to dive. "Stand back," she warned as she slapped at a button at the side of the bed. Restraining bands snapped out, securing Santino's writhing body firmly to the medbed.
"Aneurysms forming in the brain!" one of the medtechs called urgently when scans began to throw up images of unnatural vein bulges. "They're spreading!"
"Can you do anything?" Shepard asked, almost drowned out by Santino's screams.
Her eyes were fixed in fascinated horror at the grey slicked tongue flailing like a bleeding rotting worm in a wide gaped mouth. His cries rapidly wound down to strangling gasps as Miranda activated emergency procedures but before she could complete them, every reading sank to zero. With a last gasping rattle, Santino slumped limply to the medbed.
Normandy
"As far as we can ascertain, it was the control chip," said Miranda, "that maintained most of Santino's vital functions. By drawing on the body's resources and the fluids that was injected later, the chip carried out its programmed instructions meticulously, forcing targeted organs to remain active as they started to fail."
On the QEC projector, there was no expression on Langdon's face as he absorbed the unpleasant information. Shepard stood at ease but her mind was busy contrasting two images of a eager young recruit reporting in on his first day and the same man lying devastated on a medbed. It didn't matter whether he was a willing or unwilling member of Cerberus. His prolonged suffering and end spoke of a cruel hand. Ruthless. Did Lance arrange it? She couldn't reconcile ruthlessness with the man she once knew.
Votik didn't try to hide his doubts about Miranda. "Given that Santino was implanted more than ten years ago, that kind of technology is beyond Cerberus," he said, arms crossed.
"It was. Once implanted, control chips are hard to remove. They can only be reprogrammed. However, with Reaper technology, Cerberus could upgrade. According to the time stamp, the chip in his head was enhanced more than a year ago. It is also possible alterations have been made to his biology for him to last so long under such conditions. I estimate he would have lasted another twelve hours before acute organ dysfunction."
"That's cutting it close if Greenacres wanted him to transmit the message to Shepard," said Langdon, looking down at the datapad in his hand. "Someone has to be keeping tabs on Santino's condition. Compiled security scans give a clean bill of health to base personnel. That doesn't mean anything unfortunately."
"What about you?" Votik eyed Miranda. "What do you think of Cerberus?"
"Yes, I'm the most obvious quisling, aren't I?" she returned mockingly. "Feel free to turn me inside out."
Langdon squashed flat any argument before it could start.
"According to data files we have pulled up, Greenacres's last known location was the Hyperion Base Depot, 2172. He graduated from the local institute and booked passage on a freighter soon after, purportedly for the Terminus Systems a few days later. There has been no imprints of his identity anywhere since then. We can assume he is using another name to move around."
"That speaks of resources," said Votik. "Would he have been recruited that early?"
"It is possible. If he stayed at the outer fringes where security protocols is next to none, he wouldn't leave any footprints of his movements. His biometric account could have been changed later," said Miranda.
"How did you come to know Greenacres?" Votik turned to Shepard who had remained silent all the while.
Shaking herself out of her rumination, Shepard said shortly, "We were classmates. When I arrived at the base depot in 2170, he was already there."
"Did he discuss his political leanings?" asked Langdon.
"He was open about it, argued against the policy of hiring independent off world contractors on the base. He once sent a petition to the base commander to protest job discrimination against humans. Alien races should be barred from taking up any positions that should by right belong to humans," she said. It had stirred up quite a nest of troubles. "He was warned repeatedly to desist with several notations of reprimand filed with his parents."
"That's practically black marking himself and members of his family," Votik noted. "Were they supportive of his actions?"
"From the brief interactions I had with his parents, they were not happy but they did not try to check his activities. Their employment status went under review but they were allowed to continue to work. The Hyperion faculty persistently marked him down for his dissident dissertations."
How bitter Lance had been. He had gone to her and ranted about discriminatory practices and injustice for most of the night, she remembered.
"How did the base populace react?" asked Langdon.
"Some agreed with him on the contract policies but generally, most perceive his actions as disruptive." Anticipating the next question, Shepard added, "He was a loner."
"Did he try to make any contact with you after he left the base?"
"No. I did try to find his whereabouts from his parents after he left but they had no idea where he went."
"Are they still around?" asked Votik.
"There are no records of them in any of the colonies. They could have died in the war or he could have picked them up some time later," said Langdon. "Have you ever heard of Greenacres, Miss Lawson?"
"No. Though I have no contact with Cerberus affiliations, I am certain Greenacres was not anywhere near the higher echelon. He couldn't have been if he escaped the chipped and indoctrination process. He would have been somewhere along the third and fourth command tier."
"It seems he has some leverage now," said Shepard. "Something must have happened to the administrators. Either they died from indoctrination atrophy, rendered ineffective or he was promoted. What do you think?" She looked at Miranda.
"Any of those possibilities are likely," Miranda agreed.
"Do you think a future meeting with him is plausible?" asked Langdon.
"I can't say at this point but it is possible." Shepard paused to consider. "It's difficult to tell how deep the rot is within Cerberus but he could be planning to use us as cat's paw to remove elements he could not control."
"That is plausible. The number codes from Santino combined with the Aeia and Omega files could mean anything," said Langdon. "EDI estimated less than an hour in collating all data and extrapolating plausible objectives. After which, we hope we can pick up the trail he want us to go on."
He straightened and looked at Shepard. "Under such circumstances, Captain Shepard, your operational status is now active. You are hereby directed to assume command of the Normandy."
"Sir?" Shepard stared at him in astonishment. Take over the Normandy?
"Captain Votik, you are to proceed to Enyalius Fleet Depot to take command of SSV Lisbon, currently undergoing its final retrofitting phase."
"Sir, I...," Shepard began to protest. She did not envision a return to active duty so soon.
Come on, April, admit it. You knew they'll throw something at you when they asked you to wet your feet down there. But am I ready for it?
"We have a few ships that require commanding officers urgently. The recent attack removed a good number of vital personnel permanently while incapacitating several officers who will not be fit to resume their posts for a minimum of four weeks. Additionally, for this current mission you're undertaking, it follows that you are most effective as the driver, not the passenger. We have confidence that you will fulfill the objectives with the Normandy under your command."
"I agree," said Votik as he smiled at her.
"Yes, sir," Shepard said reluctantly, unable to refute Langdon's argument.
"Commander Araki will remain as executive officer unless you have someone else in mind. If you have any other personnel to add to the roster, notify the APD (Alliance Personnel Division)."
Shepard's eyes widened. Langdon was bending over backwards for her but she understood his rationale behind it. "Yes, sir."
"Effective as of this moment, command of the Normandy is transferred to you. Formal orders will be transmitted shortly. We will reconvene after EDI has submitted a report." Langdon nodded to them as they saluted. The QEC went dark.
Votik turned to Shepard, offering her his hand. "Congratulations," he said heartily.
"Thank you. You didn't do so bad yourself." Shepard couldn't help but wonder if he resented being stripped of his command so abruptly but then, a kick up to the command chair on a cruiser was no bad thing.
Votik grinned. "Appreciate the leg up, Shepard. Let's make it official, shall we?" He waved at the button of the intership comm.
Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, Shepard thumbed the button.
"Attention all personnel. This is Captain A. Shepard. As of GST 1430, 0240.2191, I am officially assuming command of the Normandy. In the following days, we will be on a mission to track down the perpetrators of the attack on our homeworld. The criminals are cunning and ruthless but with determination and perseverance, we can bring them to justice. We must strive to secure peace that everyone can rebuild their lives without fear. We can do this. All department heads are to report to the conference room at 1600."
"I can use some speech pointers from you," Votik said appreciatively after Shepard closed off the intercom.
"That was my knee jerk version." Shepard grinned back at him. "Since there's nothing on the schedule until EDI completes her work, it's a short hop to the Enyalius Fleet Depot."
Votik put a hand to his chest as if he had received a blow. "Can't wait to get rid of me huh." He grinned. "Thanks. Would you toss me out if I sit in on the meeting?"
"Not at all. Your input is welcome."
"I'll go and pack. See you later, Shepard." Votik nodded stiffly to Miranda.
"Just like old times," Miranda said once Votik had left the room. "Doesn't it fire your blood?"
"Maybe." Shepard frowned at the dark QEC.
"What's chewing you?" Miranda asked. She could guess what was bothering Shepard. It's been five, nearly six, years. Surely she would have pulled out of the dumps by now. "Think they'll stick it to you permanently?"
"Probably." Not wanting to discuss it further, Shepard changed the subject. "Did they send up the rest of your duffel?"
"No loss if they didn't. I have already brought my hardsuit," Miranda said as she followed Shepard out of the QECR. "Clothes are replaceable. Alliance shipsuits aren't so bad. Mind if we have a word in private?" she added as they made their way to CIC.
"Sure."
Shepard wondered what it was that Miranda wanted to discuss. They took the lift down to crew deck. Crewmen braced to attention as they passed by. The suppressed eagerness in their greetings and bright confident eyes was hard to miss. She hoped she wouldn't let them down. There was no marine sentry outside the XO's quarters. There wasn't any need for one when EDI had eyes everywhere and could respond faster.
"Nice decor," Miranda murmured as she stood and looked around the room that she had once inhabited. A nudge at her elbow turned her around. She found Shepard holding out a glass of clear liquid to her.
"Drink?" Taking a sip from her own glass, Shepard sank into the armchair by the view port and stretched out her legs.
"This isn't from your own store, is it?" Miranda sniffed the clear liquid in the glass. It didn't smell like any wine she knew.
"I didn't have time to pack any. There're a few bottles over by that cabinet. The XO's stash. She said I could help myself if I want to. That's sake by the way. And those-," Shepard pointed to the adornments on the wall, "are replicas of a 18th century painting and a war fan."
"How astoundingly unique," Miranda drawled as she dropped to the armchair opposite Shepard's. She took a cautious sip. It went down smoothly. There was hardly any flavour but the warmth it left behind surprised her. "Not bad."
Smiling a little at her pleasure, Shepard said casually, "So what's the story down there?"
"What or who?"
"Who. That obnoxious lieutenant trying to breathe down my neck."
"That little creep is the scion of a leading research and development corporation that specialised in genetic engineering and biotechnology. Would you like to guess which corporation is it?"
"Meaning I've run into them before," Shepard said dryly. "Let me guess. They have offices and labs on Noveria."
"You're good," Miranda grinned. "Remind me not to take bets against you."
Shepard snorted. "Now why'd you want to do that when it's easier to win at my side of the table?" Lifting her glass to the light, she peered into it as if it held the answer. "Specialised in genetic engineering and biotechnology huh. Leading the pack. That will be Binary Helix."
"Right on the money."
"What, are they sending corporate sons out to the helium fields to get a feel for singing in B flat now?" Shepard said sarcastically.
Miranda nearly choked on her drink at the absurd but delicious visions of Descroix ringing out soprano.
"If only that's possible but unfortunately he didn't go to Fort Charles Upham. His rank is honorary, not service. I'll throw you another question. Where do you think the Alliance come up with the funds for the research base?"
"Oh, is that how it went," Shepard said sourly. "With the compensation payoffs from NDC, they could fund anything. They were damn lucky Noveria sits at the edge of salarian territory and didn't get so much as a beep from the Reapers."
How the Noveria Development Corporation protested when the salarians arbitrarily took control of the planet. There was not much opposition they could put up in light of the situation then. Not with the rapid advancement of the Reapers. Last she heard, the NDC was trying to get the salarians to return the confiscated equipment and data removed from the hot labs to cut down the reparation demands from several corporations. To no avail. No doubt the salarians were over the moon with the free treasure trove.
"They supplied some of the personnel too."
Shepard stared at Miranda in dismay. "Oh great, what's the Old Man thinking of? Or was it Parliament?"
"Both. The latter thought it's a good deal. I doubt Hackett believed the company's sales pitch. He's waiting for them to slip up, move in for the kill and find all the skeletons in their cupboard," Miranda said smugly.
Swirling the liquid in her glass, Shepard said, almost dreamily, "Sometimes, I think it's better to stamp people black and white than figure out the reasons why they did what they did."
About to take a sip from her glass, Miranda stared at her. "Is this about Greenacres?" When Shepard didn't answer, she added softly, "Was he your lover?"
"What's that got to do with anything?" Shepard grimaced at the look Miranda gave her. "It's a little hard for me to reconcile what he is now with what he was before. His rhetoric on unfair contract practices, discrimination against humans by alien employers and a whole slew of other sins that wouldn't have been there if the Alliance authorities had the sense to protect their own people, were monotonous. He didn't strike me as a volatile zealot."
"Must have been pretty boring. You were what, sixteen?"
"Boring and yet fascinating. He was pretty much by himself most of the time," Shepard sighed. "Sixteen, seventeen. We were in over our heads."
"And you couldn't resist finding out what makes him tick," Miranda smirked.
Scowling at her briefly, Shepard shrugged. "Honestly, I thought he could really whine sometimes. When he wasn't doing that, there was this passion in him." She shook her head. "I never met anyone like him before. He had so much energy, aspirations, ambition and yet for all that, he couldn't act on them."
"Why not?" Miranda was not sure she understood. "If he has that many plans, it follows that he take steps to realise them."
"He has this archaic sense of duty to his parents. That was what was frustrating him because they were holding him back. He's not like any young man who would just inform his family what he intended to do and just take off. I thought it was strange since they pretty much let him do what he wanted."
"So what cut him loose?" Miranda asked in fascination.
"The death of a classmate. Jessica Palchik. As I remember it, investigations turned up nothing though cardiac arrest was suspected as the cause of death. Lance thought differently. He was certain an asari had a hand in it. I thought he was nuts." Shepard finished the last finger of sake in her glass.
"Do you think he could be right?"
"Now, with what we know about Ardat Yakshi, the asari might have been one. But back then, I didn't know. Jess had no debility, she was a perfectly healthy girl. I didn't know how Lance arrived at the assumption that the asari was responsible. Maybe it's because Jess was spending a lot of time with the asari. He was utterly convinced he was right. He dragged me out in the early hours of the morning, told me he was leaving, wanted me to go with him...you know the rest."
"Do I?" Miranda raised her brows. "You didn't go with him or you wouldn't be sitting here. How did he react when you refused to go with him?"
"Not very well. Not when I've already handed in my application to the Systems Alliance."
Setting the empty glass on the coffee table beside her, Shepard wished she didn't have to recall so clearly that look of betrayal and hurt in Lance's eyes when she told him what she had done. Surely he wasn't pointing the spotlight at her for something that happened so long ago?
"Come on, Shepard, give," Miranda wheedled. "Was he your lover or not?"
Exasperated, Shepard tried to stare her down but Miranda only smiled winningly at her. "Yes, he was," she admitted. "He expected more that I was not prepared to give. I never really thought that far, what he was reaching for."
"So what does he want now?"
"One thing for certain. It's going to be unpredictable."
Interlacing her fingers before her, Shepard fell silent. Miranda knew that hooded look, that thinking cap stance of Shepard's she had come to recognise. Quietly, she finished the rest of her drink and indulged in her own puzzle solving contemplation.
"How much pull does Descroix have on the base?" Shepard asked suddenly.
"As much as he can get away with. Makris oversees the facility and reports directly to Langdon. So does Admiral Yi of the Rhea Taskforce."
"So what does Descroix want with me? Do I have something of value?"
Miranda hesitated then shifted to a more comfortable posture. Shepard's eyes narrowed, wondering what the former Cerberus operative was going to tell her.
"I think I may know his intention. He's been asking me a lot of questions about you. He doesn't have access to the Alliance personnel database so he attempted to get the files on you."
"Why?"
"Are you aware that Dr Chakwas has been keeping abreast of your medical profile?"
"Karin?" Shepard was startled.
She had been wanting to find out whether the good doctor made it but what with all the rushing and preoccupation with Cerberus and so on, she hadn't had the time to send off a message. For that matter, neither had she checked whether the Glasgow or rather Dorrin had survived the assault.
"Did she contact you recently?"
"Yes, I sent a message to the Antarctica Research Base after the attack. She's all right," said Miranda. "The crux of the matter is she doesn't trust the cybernetic enhancements and cell restructure procedures we used on you."
"Afraid I'll break down or run amok?" Shepard said jokingly.
"She really cares about you, Shepard," Miranda chided.
"I know," Shepard sighed. "I'm just surprised she hasn't washed her hands off me after all the grey hair I added to her mob in the last few years."
"She has been hands on, Shepard, collating every medical checkup you have had. Believe me, if you have so much as a cough, she'll know."
Taken aback at the revelation, Shepard said uneasily, "That's...comforting and...not?"
"She contacted me a couple of months ago, to discuss an unexpected development and felt that you should know about it."
"Oh, is that .." Shepard frowned. The unexpected email she received from Chakwas, was that why she wanted to meet her?
"What?"
"She sent me an email, talking about meeting up for drinks. I suppose she wants to discuss whatever it is you're holding back now. And-" she pointed at Miranda, "this is something that's firing Descroix's interest, isn't it? So did he bug your office or break into your mailbox?"
"Tried to hack into my workconsole too." Miranda shrugged nonchalantly when Shepard snorted in disgust. "He is aware I was a former Cerberus operative and know all the tricks in blocking and encryption."
"You didn't pull him up for it."
"No. I thought Hackett would prefer to do it himself. It was Chakwas's end that he did manage to get into though not very far," Miranda added.
"All right then, so he might have found whatever it is that Karin discovered and he finds that it is important. So are you going to quit dancing around the subject and tell me?" Shepard said impatiently.
"Dr Chakwas wants to tell you herself..."
"Miranda." Shepard glared at her. "Don't make me shake it out of you."
"Fine."
Serpent Nebula, Widow
Citadel
The emergency medical bay was filled. With human children, one salarian, one batarian, two human adults, several medical personnel and a few C-Sec officers. With the crisis over, she should return to the control station she was assigned to but Tessie remained seated by Westir. There was nothing she could do anywhere really. Even if she was to return to her station, she would be staring at numbers and read outs, unable to affect any control over the baffling power increment. She had limited medical training and couldn't help with any of the patients. The only thing she could do was sit by Westir and hoped he would pull through whatever was ailing him.
"What's wrong with him?" she asked when an asari medtech finally stopped by Wesir's medbed.
"He has aortic aneurysm." Seeing her incomprehension, the medtech explained. "The vessel that transports the blood from the heart has stretched. Left untreated, the aorta could rupture."
"But...medical inspections would pick up the problem, wouldn't it?"
"When did he have his last medical scan?"
"Six months ago," Tessie said in bewilderment.
"How is that possible?" the medtech frowned. "I'll check on this later, we need to prep him for treatment."
The medtech hurried away. Slumping back in her chair, Tessie stared at Westir. It was impossible the annual medical checkup not to pick up the problem. Did he alter his own medical records? But why? Unless.. She sighed sadly. If he really did it, then he was looking for a way out. If he wanted to go, should he even receive treatment? A finger tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up to find Challa peering curiously at her.
"Malon is all right. West?" He cocked his head when she shook her head.
"What about the children?"
"Unconscious. All healthy."
The intercom in the medical bay cackled, drawing their attention.
"Attention. Operation Ardones has concluded. Prepare for ward arms restoration in thirty minutes. Secure all stations."
A cheer rang out across the medical bay.
"We've arrived. Safe and sound." Tessie could hardly believe it.
Patting her shoulder, Challa added, "West will be too. You'll see."