Chapter 14

Rasa

Rasa's return trip had been quiet. They'd sent confirmation to the Shadow Broker of their success, and in return, she'd received the requested specifications for the Andromeda Initiative's heavy cargo shuttle. She poured over them, lost to the task, and impressed by the capacity and adaptability of the craft—they'd have to be when operating so far from home. Her mind ran through all the possible applications for such a shuttle, including the logistics of constructing it right under the Alliances nose without being detected. Normally, something like this would be off the production line in a matter of days, but the power consumption required to pull it off would blow their cover. They'd also have to pour over the schematics and rebuild entire sections of the facility to be able to accommodate a job it was never designed for. All-in-all, Rasa suspected it would take months to inch their way to completion. Then there was the matter of transporting replacement parts and materials to the Alexander.

So much to do and so little time. Stopping the Collectors would only delay the Reaper invasion, for it was as inevitable as a black and violent stormfront on the horizon. They had to be ready to stand up for what the Alliance was too cowardly to and Cerberus too corrupted. Their new organisation meant to represent Humanity on the galactic stage and bow to no pathetic alien influence.

The shuttle slipped silently into the docking bay late at night, station time. Rasa grabbed her stuff and hopped onto the characteristic bronze of her home for the foreseeable future. She found herself to be glad to be back under the radar, around the intermingling unpleasant odours and shaky infrastructure of the mining facility. Here, she could devote herself entirely to the goal.

In the days she'd been gone, the rubble and debris had been cleared or altered to look rundown on the surface. A lot less of the population lingered in the narrow alleys and windows of abandoned buildings. The Cerberus defectors she came across had abandoned their uniforms in favour of civilian attire—a choice she let slide until they could make their own. There was a sense that the station felt sturdier underfoot, more alive in the vibration of distance machinery. It was becoming permanent. She didn't know how to feel about that yet. On an intellectual level, the sight of her vision coming together brought immense satisfaction. Year of abuse, struggle, pain, and servitude finally culminated in the creation of a life for which she was master and commander. No-one would ever leash her again.

Emotionally, however, it hadn't hit. There was too much to worry about, too much to manage, an ongoing string of problems to solve and missions to manage. That load would even out once they were up and running, but never lessen. Her mind went to Shepard. For as much as she'd wanted to run their outfit on her own, a tiny morsal hidden deep in the recesses of her consciousness thanked the universe for Shepard's partnership. She still didn't trust her fellow defector, nor would she ever, but having a colleague to help lighten the load and share in the journey made a small fire warm her tummy.

Rasa didn't stop to talk to anyone beyond a passing greeting and waved off Banderas as he fell in-step with her, yammering something about drugs and Alliance marines and Shepard. Sharing a cramped shuttled with Tela Vasir for days at a time had cramped up the muscles in her neck and motivated a painful thrumming in her thigh—the Kodiak was never designed with long-term flight in mind. She went straight back to her room, stripped off, and let herself fall forward onto the slightly stiff embrace of her bed, falling all the way into sleep as she did.

Rasa didn't wake up for close to thirteen hours.

When she did, she felt lighter, as if she could float through to the shower like a spectre going on its nightly haunt. Alas, she had to walk to the shower. Her number one priority was to find Shepard and nail down the details of their organisation once and for all. With everything in place for them to go into full production, they couldn't wait much longer. A fresh outfit hung proud on her shoulders, head held high. Today was the beginning of something that would change the galaxy in a way that would surpass the Alliance, shoot past Cerberus, and leave all those self-important aliens behind. At the end of the war with the Reapers, Humanity would rise to take charge of the new galactic order. All thanks to her.

Banderas once again fell in beside her as she made her way towards her office, but this time she was ready to hear him out, and what a tail he spun. Shepard's drug coma, the assault by Alliance marines, and a haphazard cover mission to Arcturus Station had her wondering if they'd been living a collective high in the time she'd been gone. Her office fell away as a destination and instead she asked Banderas to take her to Shepard, only to be informed that she wasn't back yet. Something to do with an unrelated event making it awkward for her to try and slip away at the moment. She changed tack again and went to see the prisoners.

Between scientists and soldiers, the security offices cells—designed for holding a handful of drunks and petty criminals—were crammed like some factory farm of centuries past. The marines had the searching eyes and hardened look of prisoners plotting their escape while the scientists seemed resigned to sit and wait for something to happen. All eyes turned to her upon entering. She noticed the guards continued to wear their Cerberus fatigues or combat armour, giving the false impression the terrorist organisation was holding them and subverting suspicion from her own. And they wouldn't be far from the truth, which is why it would work so well. Smart. She'd have to commend Volyov for his thinking.

That didn't stop any of this being a colossal mess. They couldn't let the prisoners go, for that would destroy everything they designed to build, and they couldn't keep them locked up in a cell, for that would strain their already stringent budget for supplies. Rasa left the room. She leant back against the wall by the door. The last option was to space them; blow them out an airlock in the direction of the Jovian's crushing atmosphere where their bodies would be lost for all time. Rasa was no stranger to committing whatever act she thought necessary to accomplish the mission, but mass murder strained even her loose morals.

When was Shepard due back? She brought up her omni-tool readout and saw Shepard was online—she must've connected to the local network. Rasa fired off a message, then went off to find Volyov. The pair sat down and dug into extensive detail about the viability of the prisoners and what they could feasibly get away with now that confirmation had come through that Shepard had completed her mission. The idea was floated that they start the drug manufacturing back up and use the profits to fund there effort. Rasa looked into the yield, cost, and projected profits—it certainly was lucrative. The sticking point was that it targeted Humans first and foremost; an inversion of their goals. She promised to sleep on it.

Next she saw Dr Banderas. He reported that the operation to sober up any of the facilities inhabitants who wanted to join up was off to a promising start, but that detoxing from years of drug abuse was a slow and ugly process. He committed to doing whatever was required to be a guiding light for them, and was confident in their eventual results. Rasa resisted the urge to ask Banderas to go into greater detail about Shepard's condition until she ran dry of subject matters.

"Will she be all right?" Rasa asked again.

Banderas sat back in his chair, laced his fingers, studied her eyes. "She woke up," he told her. "That's the most important part. Based on my analysis, the dose used on her was far more potent and concentrated than a regular hit, much higher quantity, too. They were undoubtedly aiming to kill her. That makes recovery…difficult. I've taken a lot of readings from other test subject and have a pretty good idea of how an intended dose reacts with the body. Based on that, with a little extrapolative exaggeration… Well, difficult."

She tried to massage the tension from her jaw. On one hand, a drug addicted Shepard could present a wild card that only ended in disaster, but also opened her up to being more pliant. Obviously, Rasa didn't want to turn Shepard into someone she wasn't; that tactical mind and charisma and decisive command was a large factor in liberating the clone. But from a personal standpoint, however, it wasn't right that the Illusive Man was just going to toss her away when the Lazarus Project bore fruit—moreso when the clone was so close to birth. She remembered their night on Intai'Sei and the fear and uncertainty in Shepard's eyes. She remembered the warmth of Shepard's body, the delicacy with which she treated Rasa's, and the constant communication. It was the first time, perhaps ever, that Rasa felt…special to the person she'd slept with.

She banished the gently probing warmth in her chest. "But you're confident we can help Shepard get through this?"

Banderas shrugged. "I don't see why not," he said. "It's a drug, just like any other, and will leave her system eventually. We need to be there to support her and reactive to her needs. Trying to anticipate the effects of a previously unknown drug with so few documented clinical trials could be dangerous."

"Keep working with the survivors and we'll see what we can uncover about it."

He nodded.

Rasa tried to call Shepard after she'd left the doctor's office to no effect. She wanted to track her down, but there was still one last person she had to catch-up with before any tasks of a personal nature could take priority. She went straight back to her office and sat down behind her desk, catching herself as she reached out to call Commander Montez. The heavy-lift cargo shuttles appeared on her laptop instead. She spent a few moments flicking through the blueprints, all marked with the Andromeda Initiative logo. Errant thoughts wandered through her mind. With her resources and contacts, it wouldn't be hard to get a couple of tickets aboard the Human ark. Escape the Reapers and her old life all at once. A true fresh start. A new galaxy where she wouldn't be fighting against the thousands of years of ingrained status quo. It would be oh-so easy to manipulate Humanities ascension to the dominant species when the playing fields were level.

So why didn't she?

That was a question she'd asked herself many times throughout her life. Why didn't she take the alternate route? Get off that ride. She could jump on an ark to Andromeda with Shepard and disappear out into the wild on one of those Golden Worlds to become farmers. Lead a perfectly normal and healthy life.

Rasa shook her head and called Montez; she wasn't meant for that life.

Kimiko Montez appeared on the laptops holographic monitor, stood at the situation table in the Alexander's CIC, still wearing a Cerberus officers uniform immaculate as ever. She appraised Rasa for a beat. "Good news, I presume?"

Rasa nodded. "I've got the schematics for the Andromeda Initiative's proprietary heavy-lift cargo shuttle—impressive stuff. I'm going to put it into production as soon as I can, but it'll still be a couple of months before one rolls off the line. I'll talk to some people here and see if we can't increase productivity without drawing added attention."

Montez snapped off a curt nod. "I've had my own people busy for the last few days, too. We've done all we can to repair what we can with what we have, but a couple of my engineers took it upon themselves to work on a little extracurricular activity." Rasa thought she may have caught a hint of a proud smile. "They send out probes and scanned some of the asteroids caught in the Kupier Belt, and discovered some nearby have raw materials that would be useful to us."

"That's excellent news," Rasa agreed. "If you can build up a surplus of raw materials, we should be able to start shipping them down to the facility the instant the first shuttle rolls off the line."

"That's exactly what I was thinking. We've got four earmarked already, but they're cocooned in thick layers of ice being so far from the local star for so long. With what little equipment we have available, it's going to take a while to burrow our way in safely."

"Looks like we've got nothing left to do than wait."

"Seems so."

"Thanks for the update. I'll carve out some time for Shepard and I to visit in person once everything's on its way."

"I look forward to it."

"And we can start rotating the crews of your ship and the facility back and forth to minimise cabin fever."

"I'll start working up a rota."

Rasa nodded, opening her mouth to sign off before one last thing came up. "What do you think of a name for our outfit?"

Montez crinkled her nose and thought. Then shook her head. "My job is to fly starships, not name them."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy."

"Fine," she sighed. "Ex-Cerberus Mercenary Unit…Six."

"Ex-Cerberus Mercenary Unit Six?" Rasa squinted at her, trying to decide the seriousness of the suggestion. ECMUS?"

"Why not? ECMUS has a nice ring to it."

"Okay, you've made your point. You're exempt from the pool."

Montez dipped her head. "Appreciate it."

"If there's nothing else to discuss?"

"Not on my end."

Rasa hung up. Her professional obligations for the day had been taken care of. She could've added more to the list—she was, after all, the boss—but there was no point in lining up a laundry list of activities that no-one could start for another few days at least. They'd hold a meeting with all the senior members of each department and do a full work schedule breakdown there. Until then, her time was hers—and the first thing she did was locate Shepard.

The door to Shepard's room in the facility swished open to admit Rasa into the ominous, low-lit room. The view of the Jovian outside dominated the scene and provided the majority of the light. Shepard's silhouette sat on the edge of her bed, hunched over. Rase stepped inside enough to let the doors shut behind her. Sweat stank up the compact area, and as her eyes adjusted, she was able to see the remnants of what few objects had occupied the room smashed to debris on the floor. It was deathly quiet.

Rasa rounded the bed. "Mind if I sit?

Shepard shook her head.

The mattress was wet beneath her as she sat. "I've been caught up on everything that's happened."

"So?" Shepard replied through panted breaths.

"How are you doing?"

"Miserable."

"How did the mission to Arcturus Station go?"

"As planned. They won't be bothering us again—ever."

There was an edge to Shepard's voice that Rasa couldn't quite parse. "Glad to hear it," she said. "Banderas says you got a bad hit of that drug."

"Bad is putting it mildly—I went beyond the time."

"What does that—?"

"I always knew I was a knock-off of something real, I just didn't know how much. I'm not going to spend my life trying to live as someone I could never hope to match. I've seen the news vid, I have her memories, I know exactly how much she's revered. No matter how much I delude myself into thinking I'm her, I never will be. If anyone knew exactly what I am, they'd want me dead. Saren and his clone Krogan ran roughshod over the Citadel, whatever will clone Shepard do?" Shepard looked over at Rasa. "I'll go out there and make my own achievement, better than before. The galaxy needs someone to act decisively, to put aside ego; we'll do it. Anything it takes."

Rasa met her eyes with a devilish grin. "I knew you'd see sense eventually."

"No, don't think we're getting away with anything you deem as necessary. I need to be my own person." Shepard turned fully to her and took her hands; a move that stole her breath. "Please, Rasa. I don't want you trying to turn me into a secret replacement for her. I want to be my own person and live my own life."

Shepard's eyes glistened in the light bouncing off the Jovian outside, and Rasa couldn't bring herself to do anything other than agree to the request, her heart warm as a radiator. "I won't, but don't forget our goals for this organisation," she replied. "We will represent the best and brightest in the stand against the Reapers, see that the others respect our rightful place amongst the stars. Together."

"We'll be a better, fairer Cerberus and a more decisive Systems Alliance."

Rasa smiled. So many uncharacteristic gestures bubbled up from parts unknown, and the only thing stopping her from acting on them was Shepard's sickly pale complexion, gaunt features, and dark rings around her eyes. Her skin soaked with sweat and a slight tremble in every movement. Seeing someone so powerful fighting so hard, ground into the ground… There had to be something she could do for Shepard. But the unfortunate truth was—as advised by the doctor and her own experiences with drugs—there was no cheat to detoxing. Sure, drugs existed that could flush a persons system, but the craving had no easy way to extinguish them. Rasa was going to be there to help her new…friend; of that she was sure. Plus, they couldn't be partners if one lapsed into addiction.

Shepard said, "I was thinking—about a name."

After plenty of terrible suggestions, Rasa's ears perked up. "Oh?"

"What about Category Six? It's the labelled used on the files of soldiers who've been dishonourably discharged from the Alliance navy." She looked a little shy about continuing—or was Rasa imagining it? "Some of us are dishonourably discharged from the Navy, others disserted from Cerberus, but it feels like all of us have been dishonourably discharged from society."

Rasa threw back her head and laughed, almost unintentionally. She gripped Shepard's hands tighter as the other woman tried to pull away, shame tugging at her. "No, no, it's a fine name," she reassured her partner. "It's a bit corny and has some edgy teenager energy, but considering you've only been alive for a matter of months, I'll let it pass." She nodded. "It's perfect."

Shepard's face lit up. "Then that's us: Category Six!"

"I'll let everyone know."

"Could you maybe leave out the part where I looked like some kind of naked, panting animal while telling you this? I'm not in the best health right now."

"I'll skip over that part."

"Thanks."

"Is there anything you need me to get? Have you got enough fluids?"

"A bottle of water, please. I think I'm in for a rough night tonight."

"No problem. Keep the doctor informed, though." Rasa stood and turned away. "I was just getting used to running this thing with you."

She could feel Shepard's weak smile against her back. "I'll follow the doctors' orders to the letter," the other woman promised. "Now, if you wouldn't mind? Your voice is ringing my head like a church bell."

"I'll be right back." She crossed back over to the door, light pouring in from the corridor outside, and looked back over her shoulder. Shepard was putting on a brave face, but Rasa could see it in her body language: the fatigue and strain. Unfamiliar feeling melded in Rasa's chest. Her goals were reaching fruition, Shepard was committed to the cause, and her partners compromised state presented a prime opportunity to mould Shepard's mental state. But, still, that growing warmth in Rasa's chest beckoned her to protect Shepard.

Rasa pushed herself over the threshold into the corridor, off towards the canteen. As long as the mission remained at the forefront of her focus, as long as she devoted herself to the cause, her feelings towards Shepard wouldn't compromise her judgement. Shepard was no different to any other operative she'd worked for over the years. Professionalism would douse those feelings.

She hoped.

A/N: Well, here we are: the end. This chapter was always planned to be an ending of sorts because I had planned to do a short time skip of a couple of months to when Category Six was up and running. We'd get four or five episodic arcs consisting of a handful of chapters that would parallel the rest of ME2 and the six month gap during which Shepard was imprisoned before ME3. The final story would be during ME3 leading up to the Citadel DLC. But life has gotten too hectic, so this chapter represents the true end. I might come back to it in the future, but he likelihood is slim. I'd like to thank everyone who's read and enjoyed my story, and those who've left comments. It's been a fun year and a half. Thank you.

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