Chapter Four
Let's Get Physical

Vancouver, Earth

The air is thick with acrid smoke, too thick to see more than a dozen metres in front of her. It does nothing to block out the screams. Instead, it amplifies them until they ring in her ears. Some of the screams sound like they are pleading with her. Others are accusatory. They think she is leaving them to die. The last is true. She should be trying to save as many as possible, but there's only one voice Ash wants to hear. The rest? She doesn't give a shit about any of them.

"Sarah!"

Her desperate shout draws dark shadows towards her, but she doesn't care. She wants them to come. Batarians, turians, and asari. Their faces a blur of violent masks. In her fury, she swats them aside with barely a thought. A turian utters a guttural shout as he charges at her through the smoke. Ash spins away from the turian's fist, knocking him off balance with a sweeping kick. As she springs up from a crouch, she deploys an omni-blade. The turian is falling past her when she strikes. The blade shatters as she drives it downwards through the back of his skull. She kicks away the falling body without a second glance.

"Sarah!"

The smoke thickens to the point where she can barely see her hand in front of her face. Ash stumbles forward blindly. Desperation settles in. Although she can hear the sounds of combat all around her, she can't see anything. She moves faster. She stumbles over something at her feet, recovering before she falls. Her feet continue to slip beneath her. Ash looks down. The floor beneath her is slick with blood. She turns. She's tripped over the body of a young woman.

Even though the body is facing away from her, recognition comes instantly. She can see the curve of one cheek. It's the Williams jawline. She drops heavily to her knees, a knot of fear twisting her gut. Her hand is shaking as she reaches out. With her eyes burning, she gently rolls the body towards her. For a moment her breath catches with the tantalising prospect of hope. A pair of blue eyes – their father's eyes - are staring at her.

"Sarah?" The hitch in her voice betrays her. She already knows that she will not receive an answer.

The blue eyes are glassy and unseeing. There's nothing – no life - behind them. Her baby sister is dead.

Ash kneels, staring at the body but not seeing it. She's seeing somewhere far away.

Memories. Four girls running and laughing, the forest floor crunching beneath their feet. Although she tries, the youngest one can't keep up. The eldest, tall and strong, pauses long enough to hoist the slight girl onto her back. She then carries as they all run together. Precious memories of another time. A simpler, safe time.

Ash brings her thoughts back into the present. She forces herself to look at Sarah's body, clad in the remnants of what once were clothes. The garments have clearly been ripped, or cut, away. Ash's jaw tightens in anger until it feels like her teeth might shatter. The blood between Sarah's legs pushes her over the edge. She tips back her head and rages at the heavens in one long, bloodcurdling shriek.

Ash woke to fingers digging into her shoulder. Someone was shaking her awake. She sat up with a start and tried to orientate herself. She was comfortably seated. There was no smoke. The only thing she could smell was a woman's perfume. There was no sound other than her own heartbeat thudding in her chest.

The hand remained on her shoulder. She already knew it belonged to Oriana Lawson. The woman's perfume was unmistakable. Having someone else touch her for no professional reason made her uncomfortable, but it was also something to anchor to.

"Bad dreams?" she heard Oriana ask.

Rather than respond immediately to the question, Ash turned to gaze out of the window. At first, she saw nothing but an endless sea of thick cloud. Almost on que, the shuttle dipped downwards and nudged through the layer of white. Below, she recognised Vancouver immediately. The sprawling city hugged the coast, nestled amid tree-clad hills. Relief quickly followed. They were almost at their destination and Ash was anxious to stretch her legs.

Only then did she turn to look at Oriana. She found the other woman's brow furrowed in concern. The expression unnerved Ash with its sincerity. She parted her lips to reply but stopped herself before she said anything. While a part of her did want to talk through the horrors she had witnessed, of the memories leaking into her dreams, the thought went no further. She suspected that if she admitted the weakness to Oriana, she would find herself trapped with yet another psychotherapist. The remnants of sleep and the dream were consigned to the back of her mind.

"Not really no," she finally replied. "Just eager to get back to work…and out of this damn shuttle."

The response seemed to satisfy Oriana. "I know exactly how you feel. We'll be on the ground in a few minutes."

Only when Oriana removed her hand, did Ash feel some of the tension leave her body. She straightened and stretched. Her neck cracked audibly. She resumed looking out of the window and remained like that, watching the city grow larger as it unfolded beneath her. The shuttle's trajectory put it on course towards a massive complex of buildings. A towering structure at the complex's heart bore a colossal Alliance badge illuminated in brilliant blue. Ash leaned forward. The renovated Alliance HQ bore no resemblance to the modest buildings she remembered from before the War. She managed to be impressed at the hard work and dedication it would have taken to construct the complex in the time elapsed since the end of the War. Pride swelled in her chest at the thought that it was the Alliance who was leading humanity out of the chaos, guiding it towards the future.

Ash was anxious to play her small part. Starting with hunting down those who sought to threaten their hard-won peace – the clone impersonating Shepard and all of its allies. The other races would follow. Her jaw tightened for a moment. Their refusal to respect the leading role that humanity had played during the War was as good as a declaration of War.

Ash became aware of Oriana's proximity. The doctor was leaning in close as she too stared out of the window.

"It's certainly impressive," Oriana murmured. "A definite step up from Blackheath."

"I'm not planning on being here long," Ash replied, as though she had some say in the matter. "Once back on active duty, I expect my mobilisation orders won't be far behind."

Oriana did not reply to her statement, but Ash wasn't overly concerned. As a civilian, she suspected that the doctor wouldn't privy to such information. In fact, she had been surprised by Oriana accompanying her on the trip to Vancouver. With her recovery now complete, the doctor's services were redundant. Ash chafed at Oriana's constant presence, associating the doctor with the mind-numbing tedium of tests. A reminder of her own frailty and the fact that she had almost died. She did not blame the woman for wanting to get out of Blackheath, the place had been little more than a prison, but surely there were other holiday destinations.

Oriana remained close, ostensibly still looking out of the window even though their view had now been swallowed on approach to one of the outlying buildings. Ash shifted slightly in her seat, as much as she dared, but there was little she could do to put any distance between them. It was an odd predicament to be in, trapped by the mere presence of another human body. Ash found herself staring at the delicate curve of Oriana's jaw, pale and smooth. She couldn't define the resulting feeling that came over her, but it left her hollow and unsettled. She was grateful when she felt the shuttle touch down, jolting them both, and giving her cause to make ready to stand.

It wasn't until she was out of the shuttle, that she managed to shake the odd feeling. Out of habit, Ash scanned her surroundings. The hanger was fairly innocuous. It was silent save for the shuttle behind her powering down. Her earlier unease was replaced by suspicion. The entire shuttle bay was deserted save for the disconcerting presence of Fleet Admiral Kessler and his hawk-eyed aide whose name Ash never bothered to remember. While Ash had hardly expected a fanfare to accompany her return to active duty, she had at least expected normality. Instead she found herself met by a carefully orchestrated absence of personnel.

"Captain Williams, Dr Lawson, welcome to Vancouver!" Kessler boomed pompously, before she'd even had a chance to orientate herself. "You remember my aide-de-camp, Captain Weston, of course?"

Ash offered up a curt nod in response, even as a quiet fury started to build. Oriana on the other hand, was positively charming, shaking Weston's hand and complementing the facility that they had barely seen.

"I'm afraid I don't have long," Kessler offered apologetically. "I have a briefing with the Chiefs of Staff Committee, but I felt it was important to offer up a personal welcome. Weston will show you to your quarters."

"My quarters?" Ash was done standing on ceremony. "With all due respect, sir, I thought I would be shipping out almost immediately?"

Kessler's face puckered for a moment. He was clearly irritated at being questioned by his inferior. Then he fixed a polite smile in place. "Yes, yes, of course. But in the interim, you'll find our facility to be more than adequate."

His answer told her nothing. Ash opened her mouth to protest further, but she was stopped by Oriana shaking her head discreetly. She grudgingly obeyed, with a polite smile of her own.

"Thank you, sir. Just hoping to be useful."

Kessler bounced on his heels. His irritation was quickly forgotten. "That you will be, Captain Williams. Now if you'll excuse me?"

Ash watched with barely concealed disdained as Kessler made his swift exit. She and Oriana were left with an awkward looking Captain Weston.

Weston looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in that moment. He had fixed a stiff-looking smile in place. "Right, Captain Williams, Dr Lawson, if you will follow me?"

The corridors beyond the shuttle bay were eerily deserted, a far cry from the frenzy of activity she would have expected to find in a military hub. Ash remembered seeing manicured gardens and glass walkways during their approach from the air, but they were now walking through what felt like service corridors.

"Captain Weston, do you know this facility well?" she asked.

Weston glanced over his shoulder. He nodded. "Reasonably well. When Admiral Kessler isn't aboard the Taishan, we're based in Vancouver."

"Then you will be able to give me a tour of the whole facility?" she asked, ignoring Oriana's alarmed expression. Ash had no qualms about earning the Weston's ire, even if Oriana thought otherwise.

"I-I…um, I've been instructed to take you directly to your quarters." Weston was clearly flustered at the thought of deviating from his orders. "You have my assurance that I will speak with the Admiral about a tour at a later date."

With that, Weston then fixed his gaze determinedly ahead. Ash remained silent and glowering for the remainder of their journey, ignoring any attempt from Oriana to get her attention. By the time they arrived at their destination, a handsomely appointed suite of rooms overlooking the main quadrangle, it was clear to Ash that her newfound freedom was short-lived. Her gear had already been delivered, stacked in regulation neat piles in the middle of the large living space.

"One box to another," Ashley muttered. Her voice purposefully loud enough to carry to Oriana who was at her side, too quiet to interrupt Captain Weston as he gesticulated enthusiastically at her new surrounds.

"There's a fully equipped training room through that door," he was explaining, clearly relieved to have a purpose in that moment. Once Weston was done with his brief tour, he looked anxious to make his exit. He stood in the middle of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "Do you have any questions?"

Ash had never heard anyone ask such a thing with less sincerity. "I'm good, thanks."

Oriana merely waved her hand in dismissal. Weston left the room so quickly, it was almost magic. Once they were alone, Ash made no move to hide her displeasure.

"I thought we'd never be free of that sanctimonious ass."

"He's just a lackey," Oriana tried to placate her.

Ash didn't really hear her, instead she was thinking about how events were unfolding differently to what she had hoped. She whirled to face the doctor, "What the hell, doc? I thought I was cleared for active duty?"

"You are-" Oriana tried to explain, colour rising in her cheeks.

"Then why was I escorted in here in secret? Like some sort of experiment…or criminal? Can I just walk out of that door?" She drew her conclusion from Oriana's agitated expression. "I thought so."

There was an answering flash of anger across Oriana's face, then her earlier uncertainty was banished behind a professional exterior that Ash knew all too well. She knew she was about to receive a lecture. She folded her arms across her chest in preparation.

"Captain Williams, the Alliance has invested considerable resources in your recovery and subsequently you are central to their plans going forward. You cannot deny the importance of these next steps. Your role, your integration into the Alliance's overall mission needs to be carried out successfully. You do realise that your unstable behaviour is placing all of this in jeopardy?"

How does she manage to make me feel like an unruly teenager? Ash felt somewhat chastised, even as she chafed under Oriana's supervision.

"I understand your impatience," Oriana continued, "But you need to demonstrate that you can obey their orders."

Ash frowned. "I'm an Alliance Officer, why would I not obey orders?"

"I just meant…" Oriana looked momentarily flustered, but it disappeared quickly. "Questioning your superiors would seem to suggest otherwise."

"Point taken," Ash admitted grudgingly.

"Look, we're close to getting you back into the field."

"Close to seeing my sisters?" Ash arched an eyebrow. "The other stuff I guess I understand, but seeing Abby and Lynn?"

Oriana offered a pleasant nod in reply. "It is in train, Captain Williams. Have patience. It's a matter of days."

Ash felt her heart leap. "Days, I can work with that."

"And you'll toe the line in the meantime?"

"Absolutely, ma'am."

Ash added the 'ma'am purely because she knew how much Oriana hated it. The resulting scowl on Oriana's face was a hollow victory. Silence descended for a few moments. Ash wanted to be left alone, even as Oriana made a show of inspecting her new quarters.

It was a small mercy when Oriana's omni-tool pinged. Her brow furrowed as she read the message, but it was quickly banished behind her customary composure. "If you'll excuse me, Captain Williams, I will leave you to enjoy your quarters."

Ash nodded, concealing her relief. "I'll hit the gym, work off some steam after sitting on my ass for ages."

The door clicked shut behind Oriana, leaving Ash blissfully alone. She stared at the door for a few moments, before crossing the floor and trying the mechanism herself. As expected, she found it locked.

Ash let out a lengthy sigh. More like one prison to another.

While she did fully intend to train, she made no move to get changed. Instead she made her way to the window and indulged in the luxury of simply staring. She couldn't remember the last time she had studied the world beyond her own. For starters, Blackheath's isolation had meant that there was very little beyond the facility. And if she'd been caught with a faraway expression on her face, she would have faced a barrage of questions as to her state of mind and psychological wellbeing.

In the quadrangle down below, she watched Alliance personnel move with a purpose. She regretted pushing Admiral Kessler but hoped that he took it as a sign of her willingness to get back to work.

Ash turned her gaze skywards. Somewhere out there, was a thing claiming to be Shepard, sullying the name of her friend and ruining her legacy. It had to be put down.

Ash realised that she had been clenching her fists until her nails dug into her palm. She stared down at the half moon shapes she'd carved into her own skin.

"Soon," it was a promise.

In the meantime, she would hit the gym in an effort to work off some of her frustration.

Kessler loathed committees as a matter of principle. In his opinion, it was far simpler to make decisions on your own, with none of the ponderous oversight brought about by uniformed bureaucrats. It was a tactic that had yielded results during the War. It was the approach they needed now.

Unfortunately, that was not the reality he now faced. The Chiefs of Staff Committee were still his superiors. All three of them stared down at him from their podium. Admiral Carol Vogel, General Jason Durrant and Air Chief Marshall Mario Polizzi. Each one had been confined to a desk for too long, too far removed from the harsh realities that the Alliance faced daily. However, Kessler grudgingly admitted that each one was committed to ensuring humanity's future. They did not shy away from the decisions that needed to be made. This was the very same Committee that had made the necessary decision to 'remove' Admiral Steven Hackett.

While Kessler was not surprised to be summoned by the Committee, he was surprised to find Captain Greg Nasato standing at his side. Kessler knew of Nasato. Apparently he'd distinguished himself during the War, but he was ten years his junior. It was bad enough having to report to a Committee but having to share his stage was a further slap in the face.

"Nasato, I believe you and Kessler have met?" Vogel asked.

Nasato turned towards him. There was an amiable smile on the man's hawk-like face. It was difficult to read, but Kessler immediately thought him smug. It didn't help that Nasato was trim beneath his tight-fitting uniform, while over the past year he had developed a distinct paunch around his waist.

Not all of us have time to spare to work out, he thought crossly. "I haven't had the pleasure."

Nasato proffered his hand. "Sir, your reputation precedes you. What you did at the battle of Neptune, to push the Reapers back despite the casualties you had suffered? I believe your tactics are required reading at the Academy."

Kessler took the hand to find himself encased in a vice-like grip for a moment. It was the handshake born of confidence.

"Thank you, Captain Nasato. I have also heard good things about you," Kessler replied magnanimously.

"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way," Vogel continued, her grey eyes steely. "Let's get down to discussing the purpose of our meeting."

I'd very much like to know, Kessler kept his thoughts to himself. He and Vogel had never seen eye to eye.

"In looking to expand the resources available to us, we have made separate overtures to both the Krogan separatists under Urdnot Wreav, and the Salarian Government. Nasato, your report."

It required an immense effort on Kessler's part to maintain his composure. All of this was news to him. While on one level he could understand reaching out to the Salarians, the Krogan were another matter altogether. Since the end of the War, the Krogan had split into two factions. Under the leadership of Urdnot Wrex, they were loosely affiliated with the Council, although had maintained an isolationist policy, more focussed on rebuilding their own race.

Several of the clans had refused to follow Wrex and what they viewed as 'weak' policies. They had declared themselves an independent Krogan State, under the leadership of Wrex's blood-brother, Urdnot Wreav. The smaller faction were lobbying to regain the territories lost by the Krogan following their ill-fated rebellion. From what Kessler gleaned from Intelligence reports, despite their numbers, the Council were not taking them seriously. While they looked find glory in the stars, they did not possess the ships or the resources to achieve their ambitions.

"The Salarians have rebuffed all of our diplomatic advances," Nasato reported.

No wonder the man was so smug, Kessler thought, being entrusted with a mission of such importance.

"Would they tell you why?" General Durrant pressed, leading forward in his chair.

Captain Nasato nodded. "While Salarians can be duplicitous when they choose to be, they are brutal in their honesty. Humanity's decision to cure the genophage has angered them beyond belief. They will not ally with us, now or in the foreseeable future."

"It was never humanity's decision to cure the damn genophage!" Vogel replied with venom in her tone. "It was that traitorous woman, making decisions without thinking about the consequences. In your opinion, is there any hope of their reconsidering?"

Nasato shook his head. "However, although the Salarians will not support us, I believe that they will not oppose us in any attempt to weaken the Council."

Polizzi looked thoughtful, "They said this directly?"

"No, sir, it was my understanding from what their Dalatrass was implying."

"I do not believe it," Durrant added. "The Salarians are still part of the Council, what would they gain from being aligned to a weakened institution?"

"I believe that is yet to be revealed," Nasato continued.

"Fine." Durrant sounded anything but. "And the Krogan? Do you have more success with Urdnot Wreav?"

Nasato inclined his head. "I believe so. Wreav…heard us out, and he let us leave alive."

"And that constitutes success?" Durrant scoffed.

"More than it might indicate. My sources tell me that Wreav is carefully considering our offer."

"And what exactly is our offer?" Kessler interjected.

While Nasato regarded him impassively, it was Admiral Vogel who replied, "Ships of course. They are an army without transport, and we have the means to provide them."

"I fail to see how the Alliance would benefit from such a generous gesture?"

"The Krogan want their confiscated worlds back, asari, turian, salarian," Vogel continued. "It will be the start of a second Krogan rebellion and a devastating setback for the Council."

"So you were never serious about allying with the Salarians?" Kessler realised.

"We need only one of these alliances to come to fruition, while the Salarians would be easier to deal with, I've never trusted those bug-eyed lizards…and the Krogan bring a certain…fear factor."

"What about our partnership with Kor'Amon?"

"I believe our Batarian friend is already well acquainted with Wreav from their days running together in the Blood Pack," Nasato supplied. "Their relationship will not be a problem."

Kessler bristled at that revelation, but he managed to maintain his composure. "One barbaric race is enough, but two? Do we presume to have any control over either of our allies?"

It was Vogel who seemed to be speaking for the Committee, she regarded him with a level stare. "Easier to control than the turians or asari. Neither the Krogan nor the Batarians think that they are better than us, they simply want to reclaim what is theirs. And it was always unfeasible for humanity to colonise the entire Galaxy. The allegiances that Nasato is brokering, will gift us the brute force to achieve our goal. Chaos within Council Space."

It made sense enough. Kessler had seen the Krogan fight – while he loathed their brutish manners, they had earned his respect as warriors.

"Well done, Captain Nasato," Kessler managed to sound genuine enough. "However, we run the risk of ignoring our current ally. Varek Kor'Amon is angry that his forces are being harassed by the former Systems Alliance frigate Normandy. Her flagship."

"Those are unsubstantiated rumours," Polizzi interrupted. "And it is unlikely that those attacks are the work of one vessel."

"It is the Normandy, and there is every possibility that she is in command-"

"She?" Nasato probed.

It was Kessler's turn to feel smug. So, the upstart youngster doesn't know everything. He was about to explain that Shepard was alive when Vogel spoke first.

"Unbeknownst to us, Cerberus created a clone of the late Commander Shepard-"

Kessler couldn't help but arch an eyebrow. They're covering up her survival?

"-that clone has appropriated the Normandy and is now impersonating The Shepard, waging operations in the Terminus Systems," Vogel continued. "It is a situation that will be remedied in due course."

"A clone? Surely such a construct would be a mere shadow of the woman herself?" Nasato asked thoughtfully, although he clearly did not expect an answer. "Regardless of who it is coordinating these strikes, why is Kor'Amon simply not taking precautions? Fortifying against such incursions?"

"These operatives are elite," Kessler answered for himself, demonstrating that he wasn't just a figurehead. "Their level of intelligence that they have managed to gather is…regrettably accurate. They have bypassed any traps that have been set in favour of other targets. I believe our only chance of succeeding in destroying the Normandy is to let Captain Williams loose on the hunt."

At that Nasato seemed actually surprised. "Are you talking about Captain Ashley Williams, the second human SpecTRe? I've heard that she has not been seen for months. Scuttlebutt says that she went rogue. Are you sure she's not working with this clone?"

Kessler almost grinned. Another point, not that he was keeping score. "Captain Williams is a loyal Alliance officer. She is anxious to bring this clone to justice before it can further tarnish the memory of The Shepard."

"Then why not let her loose?" Nasato suggested, as if it were so simple.

"Captain Williams is a valuable asset, we cannot risk-" Kessler began.

"The only risk will be waiting too long, and losing a valuable ally," Nasato argued.

Kessler bristled. He had sponsored the Blackheath Project, including being prepared to take the fall for its failures. He would be damned if he'd let some upstart Captain dictate what he should do with his assets.

"Silence!" Vogel had clearly had enough of the argument. "The Committee had already come to a decision prior to this briefing. We would like a discreet demonstration of Captain Williams' capabilities in the field as soon as possible."

"It will be possible within the week, ma'am!" Kessler replied, recovering quickly. "I can assure the Committee that the Captain will not disappoint."

Vogel stared down at him. "That will remain to be seen. Captain Nasato?"

"Ma'am?"

"You will personally oversee Captain Williams' first operation and report back to this Committee as to whether she is fit for purpose. This briefing is adjourned."

With that, Vogel stood. Durrant and Polizzi swiftly followed, leaving Kessler red-faced.

"Captain Williams is my asset!" he protested, taking a step forward.

"Are you willing to go into the field at her side?" Vogel asked over her shoulder.

"I-I…" Kessler loathed being tongue-tied in front of anyone, let alone Vogel and her cronies. However, he had no come back for that question. He hadn't been in the field since the First Contact War, and Vogel knew it. "No."

Vogel smirked. "I thought not."

Normandy SR-2, Attican Traverse

"Miranda! Do you have a moment?"

Shit. Miranda tensed. Doctor Chakwas' voice was an unwelcome interruption. She stopped mid-stride, intending to pause only long enough to respond to her Chief Medical Officer with a curt 'no, I don't have a moment.'

Chakwas beat her to the punch. "I believe we had an appointment scheduled at 1600 yesterday. Your physical?"

It was a simple question, but Karin Chakwas managed to inject a speech's worth of scolding into her words. Miranda bit back her instinctive retort. She had an honest respect for Normandy's doctor. She'd recruited Chakwas to Cerberus herself what felt like a lifetime ago. Contrary to her expectations, Chakwas had required little persuasion. The doctor's loyalty to Shepard was such that she'd joined Cerberus without batting an eyelid.

Chakwas straightened her shoulders as though preparing for a fight. "As a matter of fact, I do mind. You have already rescheduled. Twice. As CMO, I'm ordering you to report to the medbay. Now."

Miranda was incensed at being ordered around like a child. However, she still had fifteen minutes before a scheduled briefing to discuss their next operation. She'd planned to spend the time 'correcting' Jack's plans before the rest of the team arrived. She had to grudgingly admit that Jack had a head for tactical strategy. What Jack did not possess however, was the ability to construct grammatically correct sentences. And her spelling was atrocious. Nevertheless, it was not enough of a reason to ignore Chakwas' summons. And to use the argument that they were no longer military would undermine the code that held the crew together.

There was really no secret around why Miranda had been trying to avoid the physical. Her body was already telling her that she was pushing herself to the limit. She continued to lose weight as she routinely forgot or did not bother to eat the prescribed calories to sustain a biotic. Not to mention the fact that medical exams were inherently intrusive. And Miranda resented anyone prying into her personal life, even for legitimate purposes. Her palms felt clammy as she followed Chakwas into the medbay.

"Take a seat, Miranda."

Why was Chakwas' voice always so damn kind?

She perched stiffly on the edge of the biobed, watching with suspicion as Chakwas opened a personnel file on her terminal and began entering notes. When Chakwas approached her with a scanner, Miranda had to make an effort not to shrink away. She forced herself to sit nonchalantly as Chakwas ran the implement over her body, fighting the urge to snatch it away and examine the readings herself.

The doctor was entirely silent as she worked, which unnerved her even more. She would have preferred 'tuts' of disapproval, at least it would have given her a hint as to what Chakwas was thinking. Over the next ten minutes, she obediently responded to Chakwas' instructions. Raising and lowering her limbs, stripping down to her underwear when requested. She sat, self-conscious as goose flesh began to form on her skin even though the room was not cold.

Finally, as her patience was wearing thin, Chakwas announced she was done with the examination.

"You already know what I am going to say to you, Miranda," Chakwas announced in a tone that was both sympathetic and stern.

Miranda was hastily pulling on her clothes, not stopping as she replied, "I need to eat more, sleep more, the same old spiel. Understood. I'll make more of an effort."

There was silence as Miranda continued to dress. She pulled her shirt over her head to find Chakwas staring at her with a patient expression. "What?"

It was only after the word escaped her mouth, that Miranda realised how sullen she sounded.

"Please, take a seat again."

"I'm fine standing." Miranda was fine with being childish when it served a purpose. In this case, it was getting out of the medbay as soon as possible.

Chakwas responded with a level stare and a pursing of her lips. Rather than pick a fight, Miranda sat – although she gave voice to her displeasure with a quite huff.

"I am afraid it goes beyond that, Miranda," Chakwas began in a level voice. "You understand as well as anyone the toll that being a biotic exacts from your body…and will continue to exact throughout your life. Studies of how mass effect fields affect humans are still very much in their infancy. Along with children born in Singapore following the accident at the local spaceport, you are one of the oldest human biotics in existence."

Tell me something I don't know, Miranda thought.

"You are fortunate that your superior genetics have and will continue to act as a buffer against any degradation – but only if you take care of yourself. Without consuming enough calories per day, partaking in enough rest, you will slowly but surely kill yourself. Loss of muscle mass, impaired organ function – these are progressive conditions. If you do not mitigate against these now, while you are still young, you will not be looking ahead to that extended lifespan of yours."

Throughout Chakwas' lecture, Miranda had stared at her definitely. "How long can I continue like this?"

"That is not the point-"

"How long before it starts to affect me?"

"I can't give you an accurate-"

"Your best guess, doctor?"

"Ten years," Chakwas replied bluntly.

Miranda bit her lip. It was less than she expected, but it would be long enough. "Fine, thank you," she stood and made to leave.

"I have recommendations-"

"Email me," Miranda interrupted. "I'm late for my briefing.

Although Miranda had fully intended to leave before Chakwas could stop her, a thought struck her. She paused before she reached the door.

"Doctor Chakwas…what about Jack?" Miranda asked without turning around. "Her biotics are more powerful than mine, and she doesn't have my genetics."

"Jack also doesn't have your asinine desire for an early grave," Chakwas answered quickly. "She attends regular physicals and heeds all of my recommendations to the letter – eating, sleeping, meditation. No, I am not anywhere near as concerned about Jack as I am concerned about you."

Miranda was thankful that Chakwas couldn't see the surprise on her face. However, the revelation did not do anything to stir her competitive nature. She would contentedly let Jack excel in this area, as she did in most these days. With a nod and a murmured thanks, she left the medbay.

Ten years. It would give her more than enough time to hunt down Kor'Amon and enough to know time to know whether humanity would rise from the mire of human supremacy. Miranda was vested in ensuring that both came to pass. What she did not care about was what her life would look like afterwards.

At least…not without her.

All relevant senior personnel were already assembled in the War Room when Miranda entered. Jack, occupying a central position, noticed her enter the room immediately, as though she had been purposefully looking for her.

Jack remained staring. The others – Kurin, Grenier, Traynor and the two marines, Fleeting and Petrova – gave her cursory glances before turning their attention back to the console. While everyone in the room sensed her mood, only Jack was prepared to confront her.

"Thanks for finally deciding to grace us with your presence, Lawson."

"My apologies," Miranda said as she took her position around the console. "I had another matter to attend to."

From her expression and posture, Miranda made it clear that if Jack was expecting more, she was not going to get it. Jack held her gaze and it was Miranda who looked away first. Thankfully, she did not press the incident further.

"Well, now that we're all present and accounted for, let's get this shit show on the road shall we? Who else is ready to bust some heads after sitting on our asses for the past month?"

Everyone thought it was a rhetorical question, However, Jack stood with her hands poised on the console, clearly waiting for an answer.

"Um, yes, me - I'm definitely ready to bust some heads," Traynor announced unconvincingly.

Jack grinned all the same. "Traynor, you're in! The rest of you are sitting this one out."

Kurin opened her mouth as if to protest, before realising that Jack was joking. Miranda had long since ceased to be riled by any of Jack's antics, instead she busied herself with bringing up a map of their intended target. An image of a garden world hovered into view, the bright hue of its vast seas giving the impression of a tropical paradise.

"Virmire!" Both Traynor and Grenier announced the name in unison, as though it was some sort of trivia competition.

Miranda waited for Jack to resume the briefing, but the other woman merely shrugged in her direction. Caught slightly off guard, Miranda had expected Jack to lead, as she usually did these days.

Grenier filled the silence, asking in an excited voice. "Where was Saren's base?"

Traynor waved her finger towards a large island near the equator. "Right about here."

Before the two of them could launch off onto a tangent, Miranda keyed in a command on the interface. The image zoomed in on a specific location on Virmire – an archipelago in the planet's southern hemisphere.

"We are all familiar with events on Virmire in 2183," Miranda began. "Since then, its proximity to the Terminus Systems continued to make it an unattractive location for anyone other than mercenary groups. Its relatively small population meant that it was not a priority target for the Reapers. After the War, several mercenary groups took advantage of the Council's lack of resources to establish larger bases there. Aside from the odd squabble over territory, they leave each other alone. Several months ago, our intel marked this abandoned STG complex-" the image zoomed in further. "-as a potential location of interest."

On any other planet, the spot would have been a bustling tourist destination – surrounded as it was by azure seas. On Virmire, it was merely a collection of squat, heavily fortified blockhouses nestled amongst the cliffs.

"Initial reconnaissance and inside information have revealed that the complex is indeed one of Kor'Amon's principal hubs. One of his top generals-" Miranda brought up a holo image of a gnarled turian "-Joram Nazario, is based on Virmire."

"If we've had this intel for months, why haven't we hit this site earlier?" Kurin could always be relied on to ask difficult questions.

Miranda paused to bring up a reconstructed heat map of the facility. Grenier let out a low whistle at the revelation. Across the complex, there were over a hundred person-shaped silhouettes, each one representing a merc.

"Is this information accurate?" Grenier asked.

"This map was created based on personnel movements over a week-long period, it's accurate as we're going to get without calling Nazario up and asking him how many men he has," Miranda explained.

Jack let out a chuckle. "Did you just crack a joke on purpose?"

Miranda glowered. "It wasn't a-" she sighed and decided that it would be best to let it go. "Suffice to say, we believe that Kor'Amon has been expecting us to hit this base. Two months ago, they simulated a large withdrawal of troops from the complex – as though inviting us. When we didn't take the bait, further measures were implemented. In short, the location was a cleverly disguised trap designed to lure one target - us."

"And why do we think it's not a trap now?" Kurin pressed, her long years of commando training had clearly made her wary.

Miranda entered another command, and the heat map was populated with a flurry of additional figures. "Because this was the situation yesterday."

"Huh…because more warm bodies means that it is less likely to be a trap," Kurin commented sarcastically.

"No," Miranda continued. "Because the Broker's agent has provided visual confirmation that Kor'Amon himself is here."

The image Miranda brought up this time was of poor quality, and had already been enhanced, but it was unmistakably the Batarian general himself. "This is the first time we've had conclusive proof of his whereabouts. I cannot stress what an opportunity this is for us. Jack, if you'll run through our tactics for the strike?"

As Jack took over seamlessly, Miranda let the tension fall from her shoulders. They'd jointly come up with the plans, and as such she already knew them by heart. She only absently watched as the graphic animated, demonstrating the various units striking the facility. They were about to take the greatest risk they'd faced, with two squads of marines and three biotics. Granted, they were three very talented biotics, but it still wasn't enough. Clearly the others around the console – save for Jack in her unbridled optimism – shared the same opinion.

Half an hour later, Grenier let out another whistle, this time one that seemed to be hurtling towards disaster. "It's a robust plan, but we don't have the manpower to pull this off."

"No offence, but you're not going to be down there, soldier-boy," Kurin grumbled. "You're going to be safely on board the Normandy...but speaking as someone who is going to be down there-" her stare challenged Miranda "-we don't have enough troops."

"Hold onto your panties, princess," Jack seemed unconcerned. "We've got back-up."

"Back-up? Who?" Kurin demanded.

Jack shrugged, "Dunno."

The asari's eyes bulged in disbelief, "We're infiltrating a heavily guarded merc installation with a minimal force and you 'dunno' who our back-up is?"

"The Broker has procured the back-up," Jack explained breezily. "I'm just rolling with it."

"By Athame!" Kurin stared at Jack for a moment, before looking beseechingly at Miranda. "And you're on board with this?"

Without wanting to share in Jack's nonchalance, Miranda nodded. "If the Broker has promised reliable back-up, then I will trust whomever it is implicitly."

Thoroughly unimpressed, Kurin raised her hands in surrender. "We are placing far too much faith is this 'broker.' For all we know, he could be selling us out to the highest bidder but…I trust both of you, so that's that. This time tomorrow, I just hope I'm not saying 'I told you so' moments before we're tortured and killed."

"You're far too pessimistic," Jack pointed out. "I promise I'll shoot you long before anyone can torture you."

Kurin looked as though she didn't know whether to thank Jack or punch her.

Miranda put paid to any further pointless conversation. "We're done here. You each have your individual objectives - study them. Fleeting and Petrova, brief your squads. Everyone, try and get as much rest as possible."

While the rest of the crew filtered away from the console, Miranda remained standing close. She focused on the specific area of the schematic. The outlines were incomplete as it was an area of the complex that they had little data on. According to their inside information, it was where Kor'Amon and Joram Nazario were most likely to be located. It was also her objective for the raid. Miranda's palms were clammy at the thought of finally hunting down the Batarian and bringing him to justice for the attack on Chasca. In his case, 'justice' would be her wrapping her fingers around his throat and using her biotics to burst all four of his eyeballs.

Miranda became aware of a presence just behind her. She didn't need to look to know exactly who it was. "What do you want, Jack?"

"I don't suppose you're going to take your own advice?"

"Rest?" Miranda asked absently.

Jack shrugged. "Sounds like a good plan to me."

"Of course," Miranda replied dismissively. She had no intention of retiring to her quarters while there were still preparations she could make. "I'm waiting for the shuttle to dock with our guests first."

"Fair enough," Jack replied, as though Miranda required her approval. "I was gonna offer to meet them for you."

That finally drew Miranda's attention away from the interface. She turned to look at Jack. "We're rendezvousing with an unknown vessel to take on unknown individuals and you seriously think that I wouldn't want to be there?"

"They're the Broker's people," Jack said, as though that answered everything.

"It's not that I don't trust the Broker," Miranda explained. "It's just-"

"Don't bother," Jack interrupted her with a grin. "You're curious, same as me."

As she often was of late, Jack was right. Miranda trusted Liara implicitly, but the secrecy around their reinforcements seemed pointless. Her suspicions were that it was a squad of ex- commandos – maximum firepower from a small group.

Although Miranda resumed working, Jack was still hovering close by. Ignoring her worked for a few minutes, but it was obvious that Jack had something else to say. She also didn't like being observed while she worked. With a sigh to let Jack know that she was irritated, Miranda exited the interface. She had long since committed it to memory anyway. When she turned, she found Jack looking pensive. A disquieting thought indeed.

"Alright, Jack, get it off your chest."

"Do you think we're biting off more than we can chew with this one?" Jack asked. "I mean, there's a fucking good reason why we didn't hit Virmire earlier – it's a viper's nest, in every sense of the word. We've lived a charmed life so far, but we might lose people on this one."

"We might have lost people on any of our raids. We can't let that detract from the fact that this is the right time to strike. If we don't, then we'll lose the opportunity."

"At least consider leaving Traynor off the roster, we can manage without her," Jack suggested. "She's come a long way, but she's still a liability in the field."

"I've already considered that," Miranda admitted quietly. She saw Jack raise her eyebrows in surprise. "What? I'm not completely heartless. It's my own safety I don't give a shit about. Unfortunately, we can't do without Traynor on this one. We need the intel held within that base. She'll be fine with Kurin looking out for her the whole time."

That seemed to placate Jack somewhat. "I'm starved, I could eat a varren. Wanna join me?"

Miranda was about to refuse, then her stomach betrayed her with a rumble. She also couldn't help ruminate on Chakwas' diagnosis. Regardless of how unattached she was to her life, there was still so much work to be done.

A few minutes later, she found herself mechanically lifting her meal to her mouth. She had no idea what the slab of brown stuff was supposed to be other than that it was a high calorie dish intended for biotics. The lack of flavour made the whole process easier. Stab with fork, lift to mouth, chew, repeat. Jack on the other hand had coated her meal in hot sauce and was apparently relishing it.

"So," Jack began uncertainly, her mouth full of food. "You finally had your physical?"

"What happened to patient-doctor confidentiality?" Miranda demanded, outraged.

"Hey, it was a guess!" Jack pointed out. "It was the only thing I could think of that would make you miss the chance to correct my shitty spelling. So…how was it?"

"You're not getting anything out of me, Jack," Miranda replied firmly.

"Fine," Jack muttered with a shrug. "I'm just pleased you went."

{Captains Zero and Lawson,} EDI interrupted their meal. {There is a small vessel on approach. They are requesting permission to dock with the Normandy. I have received the authorisation code and they are cleared.}

"We'll be there directly," Miranda replied, she pushed her half-eaten meal away and stood.

Jack followed, but only after scraping her plate clean.

"Since when has she started calling us Captains?" Jack could barely get the words out around the amount of food in her mouth.

While she didn't bother to reply to Jack, Miranda suspected that EDI had simply made the decision on her own. She was an AI after all.

There was some measure of apprehension as they waited next to the airlock. Miranda did not have a great deal of experience with asari commandos and she was wary of any disruption to their close-knit crew.

"These guys better be fucking amazing, or I'll be having serious words with the Broker," Jack commented as they waited.

{Docking complete, establishing equilibrium,} EDI informed them.

Miranda couldn't help but let out a breath in the moment just before the door opened. The locking mechanism whirred into motion, and with a hiss the door released.

"No fucking way!" Jack yelled.

Before Miranda had even registered what she was seeing, Jack had dashed forward and thrown an arm around each of the two figures stepping forward into the Normandy. It was only when she saw the familiar faces of Garrus Vakarian and Tali'Zorah over Jack's shoulder, that she let out the breath she had been holding.

Jack stepped back to give the pair room, grinning like a madwoman. "You guys are a sight for sore eyes." Jack turned to Miranda. "I am so ready to blow this motherfucker wide open!"

"Permission to come aboard?" Tali asked, directing the question at Miranda.

Miranda had difficulty finding her voice for a moment, so she nodded at first before replying. "Yes, absolutely. Welcome aboard…or I should say welcome back."

While she did not express the sentiment as openly as Jack, she was elated to see her old shipmates. It was only when Garrus and Tali cleared the way, did she realise that there was a third person – or rather something – in the tube behind them. A solitary geth platform brought its 'gaze' to bear on Miranda.

"No shit!" Apparently Jack was pleased. "We got a geth!"

They had both worked with Legion during the hunt for the Collectors, so the presence of a geth separated from its peers was not unusual. Miranda was surprised to find that this geth wasn't black. Rather, it was a drab grey.

"Jack, Miranda," Tali waved the geth unit forward. "This is Seven, a platform housing 1,177 distinct programmes. They have been working with us closely on Rannoch and volunteered for this mission."

Miranda didn't know what to do at first, then the platform inclined their head and she responded in kind. "Welcome aboard the Normandy…Seven."

"Lawson…Miranda. Ex-Cerberus Operative. Zero, Jack, ex-convict. Close associates of The Shepard. We are…honoured to be on board this vessel. Creator Zorah has told us many…" Seven paused to consider something carefully "...stories about you both."

"All good I hope!" Jack said brightly. Seven turned to face Jack.

"Define 'good,' Jack-Zero?"

"That won't be necessary," Tali said quickly, with an embarrassed laugh.

To both Miranda's and Jack's surprise, Tali reached up with both hands and unclasped her helmet. There was a slight hiss, before she drew it over her head and tucked it under her arm.

"What the fuck?" Jack whistled as she truly looked at Tali for the first time.

The Quarian was pale to the point of being luminous. At first, her vibrant eyes appeared to lack any hue, but on closer inspection her irises were a pale violent. Her face shone in stark contrast to her jet black hair, which was pulled into an intricate braid. She smiled to reveal finely pointed teeth.

"My suit has been upgraded with geth programmes," Tali explained. "Greatly speeding up the acclimatisation process."

"She even stepped barefoot into dirt," Garrus added with a dopey expression.

"Wow, you're…hot!" Jack observed with a smirk. She wiped it, when she realised she was objectifying her friend. "I mean, you've always been hot, but…it's nice to see you…your face."

Garrus stepped forward, giving Jack a 'look' before extending his hand towards Miranda. Miranda was grateful for that, as opposed to drawing her into an embrace. She was fond of the turian, but not that fond.

"It is good to see you, Garrus." Miranda was surprised at the sincerity in her voice.

"Likewise." Garrus paused for a moment, as though preparing himself. "I can't tell you how sorry we were to hear about Ashley, Miranda. She was a damn fine soldier…one of the best. And a dear friend. We couldn't help but think if we hadn't made the decision to leave…"

Garrus couldn't finish, but it was obvious what he meant. Miranda had thought exactly the same thing herself too many times. If only she'd been at Ash's side on Chasca. Miranda faltered for a bit, unable to say anything due to the lump in her throat. She was unused to receiving condolences and found that she did not enjoy it. Tali joined them both, her eyes luminous as she rested her gloved hand on Garrus' shoulder.

"So, what brings you fuckers back?" Jack asked, wisely changing the subject. "Did the Broker get in touch?"

"It would be more accurate to say that we got in touch with the Broker," Tali explained.

"It was my fault, Garrus admitted. As beautiful as it was on Rannoch-"

"He was making a nuisance of himself," Tali interrupted. "Calibrating everything within reach in an attempt to distract himself from the fact that he really just wanted to shoot something. I had already extrapolated information that suggested the Normandy was operating undercover across the Terminus Systems."

"I'm not even going to ask how you did that," Miranda commented.

Tali smirked briefly. "From then it was just a matter of getting in touch with the Broker. Dangerous missions, plenty of bad guys to kill, this was the perfect outlet for Garrus…and I was not about to let him come by himself."

"Well, I for one am pleased you took the initiative," Miranda said sincerely.

"Bloody wonderful! You do realise that there's a high chance that we'll get all three of you killed?" Jack pointed out happily. "We're about to infiltrate a hostile base where the odds are ten to one."

Garrus winked. "Just the way I like it."