Well, here we are. To those of you who've stuck with this story through 31 (!) chapters, thanks for coming back. For those of you who are new to my Beyond the Fire series, you might want to try reading Beyond the Fire before reading DragonRise. While it's not completely necessary to read the first in order to read this story, I have changed a few things from Mass Effect, especially with respect to characterization and a few bits of in-world lore. I've also invented an organization or two. I will try to make sure I briefly summarize any major characters or events, if you don't want to go back and read through the entirety of the first story.

Also, while I changed a few things in Mass Effect 1/Beyond the Fire 1, as the series gets through the 2nd and 3rd games the changes will become more drastic, to make the story … well, make sense. So if missions are presented out of order or if a character has changed somewhat—don't worry, I haven't just forgotten what's supposed to happen. There's actually a plan, I swear. So hold onto your hats, kids.

(Oh, one last bit of bookkeeping: as of now the rating on this story is T, but if and when any Mature content crops up, I'll adjust the rating appropriately.)

And as always, thank you for reading.

XXX

Sometimes, when they were on a mission, Nicole could hear Liara breathing through the hard suit comms. That wasn't supposed to happen, Nicole knew that. When they had captured her and taken her to Shadowhill, when they had experimented on her as a child … they had changed a lot of things about her. Enough that unsophisticated DNA profiling programs couldn't actually tell that she was the same Nicole Shepard who had been on Mindoir. All her life Nicole had hated what they had done to her.

But there were upsides. Liara's breathing was very soft, very gentle. Unless she'd exerted herself—then she could be as loud as the rest of them. On their last mission, clearing geth in orbit around some lifeless region of space, Nicole had almost focused too hard on Liara's breathing. She'd almost lost her concentration.

Almost. What they had done to her at Shadowhill must have worked. They were in the armoury, now, their hard suits still on. Nicole was staring at the face of her helmet.

"What are you thinking about?"

"The geth." Hydraulic fluid had been sprayed on the front of her helmet, in a slashing, angular line. It almost resembled the scar on her own face, the one that stretched from her left eye to her lower jaw. "About how we're wasting our time."

"I thought you might say that," Liara confessed. Nicole looked at her. She was still mostly the innocent scientist Nicole had met—but nearly two years at Nicole's side had given her confidence she'd never had. And a familiarity with deadly weapons. Nicole wasn't sure what to think about that. "If you started pursuing the Reapers yourself, the Alliance wouldn't let you keep the Normandy, would they?"

Nicole snorted. "Not bloody likely."

"Then we'll find our own way." Liara took her hand, and held her gaze.

"Liara, you don't have to—"

"I'm your partner in crime." Liara smiled and leaned forward. "Whether you like it or not."

Nicole couldn't help but smile back. It felt nice to have Liara's hand in hers, even if they were both wearing battle armour.

"Hey, there's this documentary, about asari and humans? Something about convergent evolution. It's supposed to be good, I thought—"

"That sounds lovely." Liara was grinning in a mischievous way that Nicole was starting to get used to. "Would we be watching this before or after we go rogue?"

"Before. Better sound system in my quarters."

"Good point."

"Commander! Commander, this is Joker!"

"Go, Joker." Nicole demanded, all emotion drained from her voice like water down a funnel.

"We've got a huge-ass unidentified vessel showing up on the long range, and it's moving fast, Commander! Towards us! This thing's the size of a skyscraper!"

"Joker, get the crew into escape pods."

"What? Just abandon the Normandy, are you—"

"Remind me how big our guns are?" Joker didn't answer. "Send the message. Now."

She didn't listen to the rest of his message, just pulled her helmet on and set the seals. Liara was just standing there.

"Liara, go!"

"I'm not going without you—"

"Oh yes you are! Move it, Liara, into the damn pod! I'll secure the ship and follow, go now!"

Finally, Liara obeyed, sealing her face mask around her mouth. She looked positively livid, but at least she was co-operating. Nicole went through the mess hall and scanned the decks, making sure everyone was on the pods. One by one she watched the personnel on-board count drop … until there were only two left.

Joker. That idiot.

Just as she was having that thought, the world exploded. Some massive blast tore open a hole in the Normandy, completely destabilizing the gravity fields and sending the ship tumbling down towards the planet they were orbiting. Nicole magnetized her boots and started walking up towards the cockpit, her heart racing. If that ship fired another blast, there was nothing she could do. None of her training could stop a giant ship from shooting her to death.

When she got to the command center, the roof was missing. She felt the power of the suction pulling her out, felt her feet pulling away from their magnetic locks. She had to move one step at a time, too aware that moving one foot just a moment too fast would send her tumbling into space. As she walked some fifty feet that felt like a mile, she looked up at the giant hole the ship's blast had left in the Normandy's hull. She couldn't see the enemy ship. Only space, its billions of stars watching her.

She ignored that. Focused. Got to the cockpit and grabbed Joker.

"Shepard, let go of me! I can still save her!"

"It's a goddamn hunk of metal, now let go of the controls or I'll break your arms!" Joker glared at her through his own breathing mask, but at least consented to be dragged away from his station.

She pulled Joker through the ship, trying not to move faster, trying not to get ahead of herself. A wrong step now wouldn't just kill her, but Joker too…

She made her way back to the pods. She opened one, and forced Joker inside. As she breathed a sigh of relief, she saw Liara's face, only partially concealed by her breathing mask. She smiled, but Liara couldn't see.

Then the ship was struck again. With nothing but space to buffet the impact, Nicole felt this one in her bones, felt it travel down her spine. On some impulse she jammed the pod door shut, but it was okay, she could get in another one….

And then she realized she was floating in space. She could hear nothing but her own breathing now—the comms must have died. And a hissing noise, somewhere in the back—

She scrambled, grabbing for the hose on her helmet, knowing exactly how quickly the precious oxygen was bleeding out of her suit. She had barely a minute left it she couldn't fix that pump, if she couldn't make it right.

Another blast sent her body tumbling through space, almost gentle. There was nothing to push back on her, and she fell, silhouetted against the moon. She turned to look at the Normandy, to watch the pods ejecting. That was good. They would survive.

She looked back to the stars. To the planet below her. She could see the sun, eclipsed by the planet, starting to rise over the edge. A dawn on a dead world. It was beautiful.

There were worse ways to die, she thought. No more pain. No more nightmares. She could sleep … really sleep, like she hadn't in years. Her oxygen was dwindling away, now, and she let go of the pump. She couldn't stop it now. Foolish to try. She knew she should've been cold, but she felt quite warm….

Then she saw Liara's face, somehow real, right there, in front of her. She tried to reach out, to touch her one last time. To feel her skin. But she couldn't. She'd never touch Liara's face again. She'd never find the words to tell her that she loved her. Never finally just be normal, never have a family, never have all those things she cherished in her deepest dreams.

As she died, as her body was encased in ice and her blood welled up in her eyes in the place of tears, she realized that she wanted to live.

XXX

There is no single greater destructive force than the birth of a new star.

Before the stars, space was filled with dust. After the stars, nuclear fusion. Energy expelled on a galactic scale. The most significant transaction in the universe, and just as it creates, it summons enough raw power to destroy entire worlds. For each star to be born, countless molecules must be incinerated.

Perhaps this is the great irony, the subtext we, as organic creatures, instinctively omit. Creation is necessarily an act of destruction. To create one thing one must sacrifice its component parts. We must not be too eager to create the superior human being. We cannot create the one without destroying the other.

For my part I present this research frankly. It is not up to me to decide how it is used. But to the military man who will inevitably read this document, I beg you: think of the stars. Think of the cauldrons of life.

And ask yourself if you would ever want to see one up close.

Forward, The Decoupling of the Human Genome, Dr. Ryan Shepard

XXX

"Where was the body found?" Gabreau demanded. His voice, like his face, was high and pale. He had a white, thin beard, and a look of fatherly impatience about him. Tobias knew that face well. Knew not to trust an inch of it.

"To our great luck, in a miniature moon. A small orbital body. By chance her body collided with it and stuck to the side. She was badly damaged but not as badly as if she had hit the planet." The Illusive Man smoked some kind of cigarette, paying it more attention than anyone else. His eyes glowed softly in the darkness, some strange blue, and his age was so unplaceable that it made Tobias uneasy. His henchman, Kai Leng, loitered behind the Cerberus leader, against the backdrop of an exploding star.

"And space would have preserved her body, after it had got done killing her," Gabreau mused. He leaned forward in his chair, eagerly. "There is research—"

"I'm aware of the research, Doctor. And of your relationship with Shepard. You can't expect her to work with us if you were involved in bringing her back. I know you raised her, made her into what she is. But I also know that even mentioning the word 'Shadowhill' is enough to make her defensive. Let alone telling her the program director was in charge of her resurrection."

"She wouldn't have to know," Gabreau insisted. The Illusive Man surveyed him over his cigarette, saying nothing.

"How long do you think you could keep something like that from her?"

"As long as—"

"I wasn't asking you." The Illusive Man jerked his head. "Tobias. As a professional who's encountered her before. Do you think we could pull the wool over her eyes?"

"I think the question isn't whether it's possible," Tobias replied, his voice a rough, gravelly snarl, but exceedingly polite for all that. "But rather how many people she will slaughter when she discovers the truth. She was only ever an inch from breaking. The psychological impact of her own death…." Tobias shrugged. "Who knows? She might kill us all no matter what we do."

"You're that afraid of her?"

"Not afraid. Aware. They think she's a hero. She's not. She's a monster trying to hide in human skin. When all the cards are on the table, she'll do what we made her to do. Kill. Whatever she can get her hands on."

"You believe that?"

Tobias smiled, an expression as natural on his face as death on a butterfly.

"In the bottom of my heart."

In his chest, the biotic pump was beating, keeping time for him. He had no heart; Gabreau had taken that from him. The exoskeleton along his skin tingled. He could feel action calling. He knew that as with day and night, there were times of peace and war. It was the night he longed for. Like the bat. Like the wolf.

Like the moon.

XXX

Fourteen months later

"Good to see you again, Operative Lawson." The Illusive Man, even in a hologram, appeared to possess a preternatural sense of command. He looked like the kind of man who could reach through his hologram and adjust your tie. Not that Miranda wore ties. "Progress?"

"We've had some luck with the cybernetic cells. Of course, as I can't entirely account for where we got them," Miranda started, but a slight hardening in the Illusive Man's eyes told her to drop it. She sighed. "We're proceeding as best we can. Really, it's astonishing how resilient her tissue was. There was absolutely no brain damage—even before we got to it, her skull was about twice as dense as it should've been."

"She's a remarkable woman," The Illusive Man said evenly, drawing on his cigarette. Miranda had never seen him without one.

"I'm not sure if that's the word I'd choose. I've been studying the psychological profile you sent me."

"And?"

"And I have no idea what will happen when we wake her up. If she finds out we're Cerberus before we've had time to explain, she might try to kill us all."

The Illusive Man didn't seem too disturbed by this. He laid his cigarette down, on an ash tray the hologram didn't bother replicating. The cigarette disappeared.

"I doubt 'might' has anything to do with it, Operative. See to it that she wakes up under ideal circumstances."

"I still think—"

"I know what you still think. I'm not going to risk inhibiting her potential. I'd rather have the greatest killer in history than an exceptional slave. That'll be all, Operative. I'll expect full readout reports on my desk."

"Yes, sir."

XXX

One year, eleven months after the Collector attack

"And the money goes to my family, right? No matter what."

"No matter what," he whispered. Rain splattered down on the crisscrossing walkways of the Omega station. They were in one of the Deep Districts, a former mining section that had used up all the ore. Now it had become low-rent housing. Cheap, squalid, crowded. It had been a miracle they had found a corner to themselves, nestled between two leaky shacks.

"I just … wake her up early?"

"That's it. And use this hack," he handed something to the man, "To set the security drones to work. They might slow her down. Give you a chance to escape."

"I didn't take you for that kinda guy," Wilson said, his voice shaking. Tobias pulled back his hood, and smiled at the look on Wilson's face.

"My friend, I'm quite afraid you have no idea what kind of guy I am."

XXX

Two years after the Collector attack

In her dreams, the sky was burning.

Like great dark hands the Reapers reached down through the sky, burning everything they touched. She ran, as fast as she could, but she was only a child. Her legs were weak. She was so weak. She was clutching someone's hand, but she wasn't sure whose.

She turned back. Her mother cried as a hand closed around her, as fire consumed her corpse. Her brother threw his body in front of a squad of batarians. They gunned him down, set his body aflame. Liara picked her up, carried her, running through the fire…

They were in a jungle. An otherworldly jungle filled with trees from different worlds. She was tall, and strong, and deadly now. Scars down her face and body. Muscles pumping with adrenaline. A weapon in her hand, ready to shoot, to tear, to cut, to claw. To kill. She heard the beast rustling behind the tree. She spun forward to attack.

There was nothing there. No monster. Nothing. It was just her, staring back at her, her reflection in a pool. And in horror she raised her left hand, and her weapons fell away, and she watched as claws burst from her fingertips, as a voice screamed through her mind, as she slaughtered a turian prisoner, as she scalped a krogan warlord, as a Reaper's hand closed around her like a fist, as a turian claw ripped open her face, as her brother died, whispering something to her….

"Shepard! Wake up! Shepard! Wake! Up!"

Nicole knew she was back to reality before she opened her eyes because of the searing pain in her skull. There were loud noises, something like explosions, and a voice on an intercom, but all she could think about was the pain, like somewhat had lit her entire face on fire. She grabbed her face with one hand, as though she could somehow suppress the pain. Her fingers brushed along her face, along her nose, and her cheeks, and then her eyes flew open.

Her scar was missing.

"Shepard! There's a weapons locker nearby, with a pistol in it, take it now and proceed through the main exit!"

Nicole ignored the voice. Any voice she couldn't locate couldn't be trusted. Her breathing was becoming more rapid, panicked, as she searched the rest of her face. The scar above her lip was gone. The recent one, above her left eye, was gone as well. She found herself reaching under her shirt, checking for the three massive scars on her back, and the couple of ones on her stomach. She almost sagged with relief—they were there. When she looked at her left arm—she didn't have sleeves—the dozens of small, criss-crossing scars she'd been ordered to inflict on herself as a child, they were all there too.

But not the ones on the face. Not the one the first turian she had killed had given her, when she'd been thirteen years old. She looked down at herself. She was wearing a white, sleeveless shirt, and matching white pants of some flimsy fabric. Quickly she patted the clothes down, passing her hands over every inch of the unfamiliar clothing. There were no solid objects, but that didn't mean they weren't bugged. She'd need to get rid of them as soon as possible.

As her senses returned to her, so did her training. First she blocked out the pain in her face, forced it to the background. Then she examined her surroundings. She was in a large room, with one exit. She'd been lying on a medical cot. And on one wall, staring her in the eye, was the massive, black-and-yellow Cerberus symbol.

She remembered hearing tapes of a man's voice, telling Dr. Gabreau that once the Alliance stopped funding Shadowhill, that Cerberus would. She remembered a facility where children had been turned into monsters.

The voice was still speaking to her. Nicole ignored it, and walked through the main exit. She was still partially drowsy, her reaction times delayed, but she knew that. Knew it, and could account for it. In the hallway beyond the room, there was a single security mech, walking towards her on uneven, spindly legs. It was holding a pistol at eye-level.

"Warning. Warning. Lethal force deemed Necessary. Warning."

Someone tripped its last hour protocols, Nicole found herself thinking. She ducked as the AI shot and rolled forwards, grabbing the mech's metal arm in one hand and grabbing its pistol with her other. She meant to only disable it, but when she pulled back, she wrenched the mech's arm clear out of its socket. It tumbled forward, sparks spluttering and wires trailing out of its empty shoulder. It looked up at her, almost sadly.

She shot it.

"What's happened to me?" Nicole was staring at her own arm. It looked the same—scarred, pale, and muscular. She had always been strong, stronger than almost any human thanks to all the genetic modification that had been done to her, but she'd just ripped a mech's arm off accidentally. She clenched her fist, almost expecting to hear a mechanical whirring sound.

"Shepard." For the first time, Nicole paid attention to the voice on the intercom again. It was a woman's voice. "There's no time to explain, but I promise you will have answers." There was a moment's hesitation. "You need to get off of this station, Shepard, someone's set it to blow."

Nicole was still staring at her hand. It looked like her hand. It really looked like it, but—

"You have to hurry!"

Her skull was wracked with pain and anxiety and anger, and suddenly she found herself looking for the nearest camera—of course there would be cameras. She stared directly into one.

"I look forward to meeting face-to-face."

Then she shot the camera.

XXX

"Jacob, you need to get to Shepard, fast. We need to secure her before we leave!" Miranda's voice hissed onto his comms, as Jacob ducked behind a railing to avoid getting shot to pieces by mechs. It was almost humiliating. He was an ex-corsair and he was getting pinned down on a bridge by a bunch of security robots.

"Sure, just after I turn these mechs into scrap metal!" Jacob leaned out and tried to fire across the open air, to the security station where a good six mechs had assembled. The moment he did, he was forced back into cover as a hail of bullet fire nearly took his arm off. He winced and checked the wound—just a graze, but damn if it didn't hurt. "Shit!"

He was trying to figure out a way to get the mechs down when he saw her, coming out of the medical corridor. Her hair was a mess, several inches too long, and her biggest scar was missing. Miranda had been meaning to make those cosmetic changes before she woke up. In her left hand she was clenching a pistol, while she had a long, jagged piece of metal in her right. Her face was blank, but her eyes were furious, somehow, filled with malice. Jacob started to speak, but she raised her pistol and gunned down the mechs one by one, shooting them in the head without flinching. The mechs didn't even have time to retaliate. Jacob got to his feet and stowed his pistol, grinning.

"Thanks, I was in a real—hey!" In one swift movement, she had kicked his legs out from under him, pinned him to the ground, and held the improvised knife to his throat. Her face didn't change, but those poison green eyes stared at him with nothing but hate.

"You're a biotic," she said. He didn't have time to respond before she took his pistol and threw it over the side of the bridge. Jacob was trying to figure out something to say when as abruptly as she pinned him down, she locked his shoulder between her forearms and twisted.

"Argh!" Jacob clenched his teeth together to keep from screaming, overwhelmed by the sudden burst of pain. It took him a second to realize what had happened: she'd dislocated his shoulder.

"Your name."

"J-JacobTaylor! I promise, I don't know what you think, but I'm—" The metal dagger inched closer to his throat.

"I ask questions. You answer. Tell me where we are."

"A Cerberus facility, for Project Lazarus." Sweat was beading down his forehead, getting into his eyes. In between questions he clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain.

"What is the objective of Project Lazarus?"

He managed to open his eyes.

"The objective? It's—you. The entire point of Project Lazarus was to bring you … back to life."

"What?" Her eyes shifted, away from his face. The hand holding the gun shook slightly.

"You don't remember?" Jacob asked, as gently as he could. The knife faltered at his throat, and she pulled it back, then she looked away from him, her eyes squeezed shut, snarling like a wounded animal.

"What did you do to me?!"

"Nothing! I mean—not me, I'm just a security guy! You'd have to ask Director Lawson, she's in charge of the project, she'd have all your answers."

Shepard looked around wildly for a moment, before she looked back to him. Her breathing slowed, and her face came back under control. It was as though her earlier spasm hadn't even happened.

"I trust, Jacob, that you're not dumb enough to try to run away from me."

"Definitely not," Jacob gasped. His arm was still sore, trading in sudden burning pain for a constant throb.

"All right. Up." She pulled him to his feet as easily as if he were a doll. "Which way?"

"Uh, through here," Jacob said, pointing the way. Shepard looked at him, then walked ahead, keeping him behind. That was strange. Jacob would've thought she'd kept him in front, as a kind of meat shield. Whenever they encountered any more mechs, Nicole gunned them down almost instantaneously, like she didn't need to aim. Was that one of the "improvements" Miranda had added? Jacob had no idea, but he was fairly certain Shepard wouldn't be too happy about it.

"We're nearly there," Jacob said, as they passed through one last corridor, into a cramped section of the base where a tedious man named Wilson worked. As they made their way through a series of offices, Jacob heard Wilson crying out for help. Shepard held Jacob back when he went to go investigate, and instead pressed through the corridors herself.

He was lying on the floor, at his research station, clutching at his leg.

"Shepard!" Wilson turned white. "I didn't think you'd be up. Can you get me some medigel form that dispensary over there, the damn mechs shot out my leg."

Jacob thought this was optimistic to the point of suicide, but surprisingly Shepard calmly went and retrieved the gel and started applying it to the bullet wound in Wilson's leg. There was a very curious expression on her face, like she was examining a strange creature.

"Thanks. Name's Wilson." He extended a hand for Shepard to take. She didn't take it. She was looking at him, very carefully, her eyes narrowing. Like a predator's.

"How did you get shot."

"Uh, sorry?"

"How did you get shot?" Wilson's eyes shifted to the jagged metal in Nicole's hand, and he licked his lips.

"It was a security mech, obviously!"

"Mmhmm. Tell me, why didn't you get the medigel yourself?"

"I—I was in pain!" Wilson's eyes were bulging, and darting around wildly. He was looking to Jacob, some kind of silent pleading in his face. He looked so helpless that Jacob had to try and say something.

"Shepard, come on, he's just—"

"Just what? Unable to crawl? Here's what I want to know. How does a security mech with its last hour protocols tripped wind up shooting someone in the leg? At this stage they aim to kill."

"It—it must've been a wild shot! Or it was before the protocols were tripped, yeah! Or—"

Nicole held the knife to his throat.

"You know what I think? I think you're lying." And without the slightest change in expression, Nicole slit his throat. Wilson's hands scrambled uselessly as blood spurted from the gash, onto Nicole's hands. She shoved his body aside and got to her feet, wiping her hands on her shirt, leaving garish red splotches. "He was probably the one who initiated this."

"How do you figure that?" Jacob demanded. He had to remind himself to keep his temper under control.

"That little show wasn't just for my benefit. It was for yours. He wanted to seem like he'd been victimized by the attack as much as anyone else. What other motivation could he have?"

"I don't know, but you didn't have to cut his damn throat!" Shepard hesitated, and for a moment Jacob feared for his own life. But she only shook her head, and continued through the offices, to another corridor. When the door opened, Miranda was waiting for them. Miranda, the most beautiful woman Jacob had ever met, with clear blue eyes and flowing black hair. She was wearing a long, white coat, with the Cerberus logo stitched on the left breast. Beneath it she was wearing a tight-fitting black suit of leather, with gold trim. She didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the fact that Nicole was holding a gun and a bloody piece of metal.

"Commander Shepard. It's an honour to finally meet you," Miranda said coolly. Her hands were clasped behind her back. Jacob noticed the pistol hanging from the belt looped lazily around her waist. He didn't doubt Shepard noticed it, as well.

"That coat projects kinetic barriers, doesn't it?" Shepard hadn't raised her pistol, but Jacob got the feeling she'd be pretty quick on the trigger.

"Yes. It also has quite a few pockets. Convenient, you see," Miranda inclined her head slightly, and smiled one of those perfect smiles of hers. Shepard did not return the gesture. "I assure you, Commander, despite what you must be thinking—and I know you have every reason to think it—we are here to help you. Including poor Jacob there."

"What about Wilson?" Nicole jerked her head towards the body.

"What, him? Well I suppose I should thank you for saving me the trouble of shooting him myself."

"You're not implying I did your dirty work," Shepard said, so softly that it was terrifying. Miranda suddenly looked alarmed.

"What? No—no, Shepard! Just that you were right, he was the traitor who set the mechs against us. I'm sorry, we didn't meant to wake you so soon—but we can talk about all of that later."

"Yes. We can. I trust there is a ship?" Shepard sounded even more terse now, though she was quieter. It was very unnerving.

"Yes, just—"

"Take me to it. I'll pilot it and set a course. Then you two are going to answer questions. If—and only if—I am satisfied, I may decide not to kill the both of you. Sound fair?"

Jacob gulped. Miranda, somehow, didn't so much as blink.

"Of course."

XXX

The small shuttle only had two sections—the cockpit, and a storage area, where Shepard had left Jacob and Miranda while she set their course. Jacob didn't know where she would be taking them, but he thought it was likely that she was scanning the shuttle's computer to find out where it might have been previously.

"Does your shoulder hurt much?"

"Only when I move," Jacob said dryly. Miranda rolled her eyes.

"You're lucky she didn't just break it. That's usually what she does to biotics."

"What about you?"

"I for one count myself exceptionally lucky. I suppose once she had control of the situation she realized neither of us pose a real threat to her."

Jacob almost laughed. "That's not like you."

"What? To admit when I'm outmatched? Nicole Shepard is one of the deadliest people alive—maybe the deadliest, Jacob. That's why we brought her back."

"What, not because of my sunny disposition?" Despite the fact that they were in a sealed shuttle, Shepard had somehow managed to sneak up on the both of them. Jacob had to suppress a jolt of surprise.

"I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me," Miranda said carefully.

"No, it was honest. In the interest of self-preservation, I'd continue in that vein." Nicole took the seat opposite them around the small table in the storage area. The lighting in the shuttle was dim, shrouding her face in darkness. The pistol was still in her hand, pointing at Miranda. "Were my personal effects on that station?"

Not the first question Jacob had expected.

"No," Miranda said immediately, with a note of palpable relief. "They were on another station, where—"

"You were going to take me after you woke me up," Nicole finished. Miranda nodded. "What year is it?"

"2185." For the first time, Shepard really looked stunned. She leaned back in the darkness, and looked away, then shook her head.

"Two years. Where's Liara?"

"The asari scientist?"

"No, the goddamn slime mold, of course the asari scientist. Tell me where she is."

"I don't personally know, but if—"

"You spent two years bringing me back and you didn't bother to figure out where my—where Liara was?!" Nicole snarled, her features positively feral in the dim light. Jacob couldn't help but lean back.

"I'm sorry, Commander. Truly. For the past two years, all I have been focused on has been bringing you back. I haven't had time for much else."

"Fine. Let's say I believe that." She didn't look like she did. Actually, just now she looked very much like the deadliest person alive. "How did you do it."

"A combination of artificially grown cells as well as advanced cybernetics. Your body was actually encased in ice, sucked into the gravity well of a small moon," Miranda said, so rapidly Jacob was sure she had rehearsed it. "We were very lucky. The already present modifications to your body protected your brain from damage, and while the cold of space killed you, it also preserved your body. You're still you, Shepard. I promise."

Shepard digested that for a while, looking straight into Miranda's eyes. Miranda stared back, unperturbed. Jacob had to give her credit; if Shepard was starting at him that way, he probably would've jumped out the window.

"What else did you do to me?" Shepard was barely speaking above a whisper.

"I don't have the comprehensive details with me—which I'll make sure you get as soon as possible—but I can give you an overview. Your bones are much stronger, as well as your body tissue. Over six hundred million cybernetic nanocells are in your blood stream, maintaining your body, ensuring things run smoothly. They're self-replicating and powered by your own body heat. You are still mostly organic, but in some cases—your left arm, some subcortical tissue on your face, both your eyes, and several organs—we had to combine synthesized organic tissue with artificial synthetics. Your strength should have increased nearly four times, your health is dramatically more robust than it already was, and we also embedded a self-activated cloaking system in your spine, which you can activate on thought."

"You're joking," Jacob blurted out. Miranda shot him a withering look, but Shepard ignored him.

"Why is my scar missing?"

"Due to the sensitive nature of the cybernetics around your skin, we wanted to be sure your face had fully healed before we set your face exactly as it had been. Adding the scar too early might have compromised your cybernetics permanently."

"Did you put anything in my brain?" Each word sounded heavy as lead.

"No, Shepard. The Illusive Man forbade it—he didn't want you to be compromised. As I said, you're still you."

"What do you know about my past?"

"Everything." Shepard flinched, somehow seeming less threatening and more dangerous than she had before.

"Does the name 'Gabreau' mean anything to you?"

"He was the project manager at Shadowhill, a defunct Alliance black ops program." Miranda hesitated for a moment, then added. "He is now in command of another Cerberus cell, I take it. Completely divorced from the Lazarus cell, I assure you."

"What's he look like?" Nicole was watching Miranda's eyes very closely.

"I'm afraid I have no idea."

Finally, Nicole laid the gun on the table.

"You're going to tell me the co-ordinates to the second station. The one with all of my personal effects. Then we're going to put his arm back in its socket."

"Shepard—"

"In that order, Director Lawson. And if you try to pull any of that 'I can't tell you sensitive information' crap, then I'll shatter your kneecap."

XXX

The second station, somewhere in the Sahrabarik system, was large, but completely empty. There were wide, open floors, chairs and living spaces, windows opening out into space—but no people. Nicole assumed it was an old project base, now defunct but still useful as a base of operations. She found all of her personal effects in a storage locker in one of the rooms. Her armour, night black, with the red N7 stripe blazing in a line, mocking her. Her jacket, her clothes … her combat mesh. Quickly, she pulled those back on, trying not to think about the body beneath her skin, trying not to think about what had happened. She just had to find a way to get away, to find Liara.

There were her weapons, as well, her pistol, shotgun, assault rifle, and sniper rifle. Her two Talons, one that a turian calling himself Talon had given her, one the turian Councillor had given her. And, to her surprise, Vargas's violin, still in its case after all those years. It was probably horribly out of tune. Nicole had never learned to play. She found her omnitool near the bottom and slipped the small metal band around her wrist. She knew she'd need to check it later, to make sure it hadn't been tampered with. It didn't appear so, not after her first couple of diagnostic tests, but she couldn't be sure. She didn't think she'd ever be sure again.

And then, at the bottom, there was a picture of Liara. She'd printed that just one week after she'd killed Saren. She reached out and touched it, a smile sneaking its way onto her face. Liara was smiling in the picture. Garrus had been the one to take it. Nicole didn't like cameras. Garrus had said—what had he said? That it wouldn't be right for them not to have pictures of one another. He had taken a picture of Nicole, too. She'd even managed not to freeze up. She'd trusted him.

She missed that feeling. Of being surrounded by people she trusted. She put the picture in one of the pockets in her jacket, threw the pistol she'd taken from the mech into the locker, and took her own hand-cannon instead. Then she took both her Talons, the curved turian daggers only given to the most honoured turian soldiers.

When she came back out to the main chamber, Miranda was lounging against one wall, while Jacob was massaging his shoulder with some medigel. Nicole felt a slight twinge of guilt about that. He seemed like a very decent man.

"The Illusive Man will be happy to see you now, Shepard. Just in through there." Miranda pointed down a corridor. "He'll have all the answers you want, I assure you."

"He'd better."

Nicole hated this place. All the corridors, the furnished steel, the white walls, it all reminded her of Shadowhill. The only difference was the windows. That gave her some encouragement. Maybe this place hadn't been as bad as all that. At least whoever had lived here had been allowed to see the outside.

When she reached the end of the corridor, she entered a dark room, with a large, illuminated disc at the center. Tentatively, she walked forward, onto the disc. A laser shot out of the side of the wall and scanned down her body, rendering every inch of her. It set her teeth on edge, but as soon as it was done, a man appeared, in hologram, in front of her. He had grey hair, and unnatural eyes, and was wearing a very expensive jacket. He was reclining in a chair, smoking, and Nicole couldn't place his age—he was definitely not young, but had none of the characteristics of old age, either.

"Commander Shepard. It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

"I can't say the feeling is mutual," Nicole responded. The Illusive Man sighed.

"No, I daresay it isn't. I guess you're wondering why we brought you back?"

"To turn me into your personal assassin?"

The Illusive Man actually chuckled. "No, nothing so gauche. I have plenty of personal assassins. None of them as skilled as you, of course, but I wouldn't dream of putting you up to such business. Especially not knowing how you feel about your childhood."

"Your people used me and tortured me," Nicole hissed.

"Yes. I don't approve of it, but I can't pretend I'm not glad it happened. Have you considered that, if it wasn't for Shadowhill, you would not have been able to stop Saren? That you wouldn't have been able to stop the Reapers?"

"At least a dozen times a day, yeah. But that doesn't mean I like it."

"I understand what you mean. As a measure of good faith, I'm forwarding a complete biological and psychological dossier to you. It's yours. Your entire history, even before your internment at Shadowhill. Feel free to look it over when you have the time."

"You didn't tell me why you brought me back."

"Fair point." The Illusive Man exhaled, smoke clouding the hologram. "Have you heard of the Collectors, Commander?"

"Thought they were a Terminus myth."

The Illusive Man grimaced. "We should be so lucky. They're very real, and they've been attacking human colonies with growing frequency. These particular colonies have been outside Alliance space—so, naturally, the Alliance isn't doing the first thing about them. We don't know why they're doing what they're doing, but I'm convinced they must be pawns of the Reapers, like the geth."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because the ship that killed you was a Collector ship. The Reapers are afraid of you, Shepard. You've already killed one of them." The Illusive Man chuckled. "Imagine their terror when they find you've come back from the dead."

"So you want to welcome me into the fold, is that it?" Nicole asked, through clenched teeth. The Illusive Man shook his head.

"No. No, I know that, given your history, that's impossible. I don't expect you to like working with us, and I don't expect you to consider yourself one of us. Cerberus is humanity's guardian, Shepard—sometimes that means working with people I don't like, either. But since I have Director Lawson's psychological profile of you, I know you won't be able to just sit by while the Collectors are kidnapping humans by the hundreds. What I need from you is to investigate the Collectors, and to figure out some way to stop them. We need you, Shepard. Humanity needs you."

"And if I say no?"

"Then countless people will die. You don't want to see that happen. You can use our resources without becoming one of us, Shepard. Actually, you already have. We've funnelled more money into Project Lazarus than any other Cerberus cell."

"I'm flattered."

"You should be. We're willing to give you a ship, and a crew, and dossiers on several valuable agents who we believe will make fine additions to your team—I know you prefer to work with a team."

"I have a team," Nicole snarled.

"I know, but they've had two years to find different lives. Tali'Zorah is working with the migrant fleet, Urdnot Wrex is operating as a clan chief on Tuchanka, Ashley Williams is still with the Alliance, and Garrus Vakarian is working as a mercenary on Omega under the alias 'Archangel'. Of all of them only Vakarian is—"

"What about Liara?" She tried to hide the urgency in her voice. She didn't want him to know about how important Liara was to her. Which was foolish, since the Illusive Man probably knew everything there was to know about her, anyway.

"She's currently an information broker on Illium. Ruthless woman, apparently involved in some tangle with the Shadow Broker. I doubt she can be trusted."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Shepard, you cannot afford to indulge flights of fancy while human lives are—"

"If you value the human lives on board this station, then you'll very carefully reconsider the ending of that sentence," Nicole snarled. The Illusive Man's eyebrows raised.

"Are you saying you're holding Director Lawson and Mr. Taylor hostage?"

"I'm glad you caught on. You send me all the information you have on the Collectors, and on Garrus. Give me that ship you promised, and after I've met Liara—then I'll decide whether or not I want to work with you."

"As you wish." The Illusive Man nodded. "However … there is something you know. Archangel—that is, Vakarian—is currently holed up in a safe house with about a half dozen gangs converging on him, in Omega station. We estimate he can only hold out for another three days."

The hologram went dead. There was a faint beeping from her omnitool—she was being sent the dossiers the Illusive Man had promised. There was one for a "Prisoner," a "Krogan," a "Mercenary", one for Garrus himself, the "Archangel", and a doctor. She opened that one. Mordin Solus, operating out of the Omega station.

Mordin Solus. She knew that name. And she needed to go to Omega. She took out the picture of Liara and looked at it. She would understand, Nicole was sure of it. She couldn't let Garrus die. No matter what, she couldn't let Garrus die.

Not like she had.