But I wish I was like Miranda. I miss sex. Kissing. Cuddling. All that stuff. Stupid with the war, but it's true. I miss having something to come back to.

Something twisted in Miranda's gut. Shepard had always been distant and remote and completely focused on the task at hand. It has allowed them to function as commanding an executive officer despite not particularly getting along. Lazarus had required Miranda is to familiarize herself with Shepard's dossier, but there was a difference between reading about her last girlfriend and seeing her longing for physical intimacy expressed in her own words.

And to think that she envied Miranda. The sex Miranda had arranged on iPartners had been cold and mechanical, meant only for conceiving a child before time ran out. Jacob had been better, at least before they both realized he wanted the white picket fence life she could never give him. And now there was nothing for her either. Every night since her flight from Cerberus had been spent alone—one of the hardships of being an operative on the run. Cerberus had subverted her trusted contacts, and any attempt to arrange something on the extranet could bring a potential assassin instead of a potential lover.

But Shepard shouldn't spend the rest of her days fighting this war without some kind of physical comfort, if that was what she wanted. There were a thousand shades of gray between eternal monogamy and meaningless sex with a man whose name you couldn't remember. There was sex between friends, people who knew and liked each other, but who knew that all good things must come to an end. Pleasure was to be taken for its own sake, and not as a promise of something you couldn't give. And Shepard would be so easy to please. There was a sensitive spot at the base of her neck…

Miranda stopped in her mental tracks. That particular line of thought didn't bear examination. Treating the decay was challenging enough without thinking of how she could soothe away her pathetic loneliness. If Shepard found comfort, it would be with someone she actually liked. Perhaps she would finally deign to return Liara's affections. Miranda switched off her omni-tool. Shepard would never know of her electronic snooping.

"I believe organics consider it impolite to read private correspondence." EDI walked through the door. She wore a black jumpsuit not dissimilar to Miranda's own. Either touchingly human or faintly ridiculous. "I have modified my cyber security systems, and I judged Shepard's communications to be a priority. It appears I was correct to do so."

Miranda groaned. "Why are you here, EDI? You could have thrown me out of the system without coming all the way down here." And I need to upgrade my omni-tool, obviously.

"I have a question for you, and it seemed more likely that you would answer if I could promise not to reveal your activities to Shepard in return."

"The AI has learned how to blackmail. Great."

"Blackmail implies a desire to disclose the information if you do not comply. This is a favor for a favor."

Miranda's eyebrows went up. "Fine. What do you want to know?" Probably an explanation of human mating behavior or some such. Miranda would blather something, and they would both be on their way.

"I was originally created to assist Alliance soldiers in training exercises. My current incarnation was designed for cyberwarfare. And yet, I have grown beyond that. It would be a waste of my processing power to devote myself solely to assisting military operations, despite it being the purpose for which I was created. You are unique among organics for being created for a purpose. And yet, you rejected that purpose. How did you self-modify to create a new one?"

It took Miranda a moment to process what EDI had said. "You're asking how I came to join Cerberus?"

"Yes."

"My father was… not a kind man." Her hand went automatically to her throat and skimmed across the leather of her choker. "I'd prefer not to discuss the details. When I was old enough, I left. I spent a year on Omega as a thief and a hacker. But when I heard about Oriana, I couldn't let her stay with him, and I knew I lacked the resources to relocate and protect her. So I offered my services to Cerberus. And I stayed with them until they started indoctrinating people."

EDI closed her eyes halfway. If she were human, Miranda would have said she was peering at her. "But why Cerberus? There are any number of mercenary groups that would have offered protection for your sister and that operate legally in Council space. Why allow yourself to be branded a terrorist?"

"Because there's no challenge in mercenary work. I'm smarter, faster, and stronger than baseline humans. It's not arrogance, just a fact. I have an obligation to use those gifts to benefit humanity. And Cerberus let me do that. Anything I asked for—funding, personnel, equipment—was mine. They didn't smother me with pointless red tape, and they gave me far more autonomy than my father ever had. I conquered death. The Alliance would never have allowed me to do that. And, as I grew older, I saw the necessity of humanity having a black ops organization. The Council makes the rules, and those rules exist to keep the Council races on top. And they all have their ways of cheating when it suits them. Cerberus was our way, whether the Alliance wanted to believe it or not. We were supposed to be humanity's strongest advocates. That's what I'm still trying to be."

"It is… curious that you identify so strongly with humanity when Henry Lawson didn't consider his offspring truly human. It would have been easy to adopt his ideology."

Familiar anger welled up inside Miranda, and she couldn't quite keep the contempt from her voice. "Ah, yes. Homo sapiens superior. I was supposed to be the first of a new breed of humanity, a new ruling dynasty that would replace baseline humans the way we replaced the Neanderthal. That sort of nonsense should have died out two-and-a-half centuries ago." But it hadn't quite died out. Henry had believed in it so strongly that he had ensured Miranda would never be able to reproduce without using the process he had created so her improvements wouldn't be diluted in future generations. "I'm human. And I'll protect humanity until my dying breath."

"You adopted humanity as your peer group. As I adopted Jeff and the crew."

Warmth flushed Miranda's cheeks. "I suppose I did."

EDI went suddenly rigid. "Pardon me but I no longer possess the processing power to continue this conversation. I am picking up inbound shuttles on sensors heading for the planet's surface. They appear to be Cerberus Kodiak shuttles."

Rachel rubbed her eyes. "Please tell me I didn't see that." But the yahg was still there. It banged its fist angrily against the walls of the containment cell. Stripped naked, it seemed larger and fiercer than even the Shadow Broker. Its cries were untranslated, but "get me out of here" sounded the same in any language.

The research director—Padok Wiks, if Rachel remembered correctly—seemed to go a bit paler, or what passed for it in a salarian. "We are evaluating the yahg for evolutionary uplift. That would have been my job, had I not requested reassignment recently."

"Are you insane?" It was all Rachel could do not to seize Padok by the shoulders and shake him. "The yahg are as aggressive as krogan, as adaptable as humans, and as smart as you are. Do the salarians want another Krogan Rebellions on their hands? If it's bloodshed you want, I can always tell Wreav that he can shoot his guards."

"I agree with you, Commander, as surprising as that might seem to you. For too long we've allowed politics to decide who lives and dies. It should be evolution alone that makes that determination." Padok's eyes glittered, and Rachel was reminded suddenly of Mordin whenever he had talked about his latest research project. "Evolution is the force that directs all our lives. My new role is to study it. If we could ever discover its ultimate purpose, the results would be paradigm-shifting."

"I don't think evolution works like that," Liara muttered, her eyes fixed firmly on the yahg.

"We treat it as a mystery, but it need not be. All the primal forces of the universe are comprehensible with enough time and wisdom. And perhaps understanding these primal forces would prevent us from seeking to manipulate them for our own political gain."

"The dalatrasses not seeking to manipulate something? Perish the thought." A new and familiar figure stepped out of the shadows. "I'm delighted to see you and—I hear it's Lieutenant now?—Williams under more pleasant circumstances." Kirrahe grinned broadly. "I always knew we'd work together again."

Rachel's gaze traveled to the rank insignia on his shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Major." Handshakes and greetings were exchanged all around.

"How very ironic that you're here to secure a cure for the genophage. Heads will roll politically for this. We might even see a new line come to power. " Kirrahe leaned in close and whispered in her ear. "I remember what you did for me on Virmire and what just one Reaper almost did. The STG is with you whatever happens." He straightened. "I'll let Wiks show you to his precious specimens."

Rachel made for the elevator and stood impatiently in front of the retinal scanner. Surely Kirrahe was being overly paranoid? The salarians knew better than anyone what the Reapers were capable of. Mordin had written papers about indoctrination. When the time came, they would do everything they could to fight the greater threat. Even people like Linron would eventually come around.

Who am I kidding? The Council had its head up its ass for three years. No reason thing should be different now.

The sound of a klaxon filled the air. "Threat condition Level Two has been declared," intoned a computerized voice.

Rachel's comm sprang to life. "Shepard!" Miranda shouted. "Cerberus is inbound to your location. Three squads. I'm also detecting some kind of mech."

"This day just gets better and better. Any idea what they're doing here or who tipped them off?"

"Best guess? They want the genophage cured even less than Linron does."

Speaking of having their heads up their asses… "All right, you heard her, people. Let's get those females."

They moved through the lower level of the facility in near silence. Technicians bustled around them, backing up data and move equipment. It was dark, and the orange glow of the terminals was like a campfire you might tell ghost stories around. And the containment cells seemed to contain every species known to man or alien: varren, klixen, and several others Rachel didn't immediately recognize. There probably would've been a thresher maw if the STG could have found a way to stuff one inside a cell.

They came to a single large cell. Bodies had been stacked in neat rows. Their faces had been covered with sheets, but bloodied and bruised krogan hands and feet peeked out from beneath the covering. Padok hung his head. "This is what's left of most of the krogan females. They were in poor health when we found them. I provided the best medical care I could, but it was too late for most."

Rachel looked at the bodies and felt…relief. Traitorous, disgusting relief. "You could have said something up top and saved us the trouble. No females means no cure."

Padok shook his head. "There was one survivor. That was the reason I passed this footage on to Clan Urdnot."

Rachel started. "You're Wreav's inside source?"

He shrugged. "He had a right to know what Maelon had done and what the results were. We should never have meddled so gravely in the krogan's evolutionary process. Even they are a vital strand in the tapestry of life. They'll play their appointed part if I have anything to say about it."

He stopped in front of the last cell on the right. Rachel had never seen a krogan female in person, and holos and books had not prepared her for this. She stood stiffly inside her pod, and her face was covered with cuts and welts. Her clothing had once been very fine, but was now tattered and stained. Oh, but the clothes themselves! They were silk, with intricate patterns worked in blue and gold. It seemed incongruous for such beauty to belong to a krogan. It was as offputting as a salarian wielding a Cain.

"Are you here to kill me?" The voice was cold, dead, resigned. Not all krogan were full of rage, but no one should be this toneless.

"I'm here to get you out of here," Rachel said in the same tone she had once used while cradling a young private whose intestines were slowly being corroded by thresher maw venom. She hoped it was more comforting to the krogan than it had been to him. "You're the last hope of the krogan people."

"Of course. You wouldn't come here because of the suffering my sisters and I endured. It is our fertility alone that makes us valuable. Before Maelon's experiments, we were used as decoys to prevent fertile females from being captured. But now Wreav wants his property. By controlling the only fertile female, he can crush any threats to his power."

"I came here to help—"

"Hurry it up, Shepard!" Wreav roared. "I can keep Cerberus distracted all day, and those females belong to me!"

As soon as I get this alliance, I'm going to murder that vorcha.

The Normandy had never been more familiar than at this moment. A warship primed for combat was a warship primed for combat, no matter what colors it flew. The air was thick with tension. Even Joker was grimly silent. Miranda watched as a man with close-cropped dark hair barked orders. There was a time it would have been Miranda in command, but she could still offer assistance. Assuming someone didn't throw her off the deck.

She sidled up to the comm officer. Traynor had seemed nervous and unprepossessing at meals, the civilian thrust into a world she was wholly unprepared for. Not the sort who would throw Miranda out of the CIC because she was encroaching on her space. At least she hoped not. "I think I can help you tap into the Cerberus squad's communications, if you're interested."

"You want to help me make life miserable for people who have been a thorn in our side since Mars? Yes, I'm bloody interested."

Perhaps Traynor wasn't quite the mouse that she seemed. "Before I left, Cerberus was prototyping new transmitter technology. The encryption was supposed to be unbreakable until deciphered by the receiver. But if you can patch in along this frequency range, we might get lucky."

Traynor looked at her, but did as she asked.

"Echo team, move up!" came a garbled voice. "Lay down suppressing fire on the hostiles while we secure the containment pod."

"Are you getting this, Shepard?"

"Affirmative. Liara, lay down a singularity."

Traynor peered at the console. "Impressive, but I think I can improve on that. The Shadow Broker data Liara shared included a map of this base. If I triangulate the signal and overlay it on the map…" The galaxy map winked out to be replaced by a three-dimensional model of the STG base. Clusters of red dots were interspersed throughout the lower level. "And there we have it. The location of all Cerberus personnel."

It was Miranda's turn to stare. "Explain to me how your name never crossed my desk as a potential recruit?"

"Could you two stop complimenting each other and help me?" Shepard barked. "Miranda, I've got turrets up ahead. Never seen a rate-of-fire quite that fast. Known weaknesses?"

"The usual. Hacking, drones, fire."

"None of which we have," Ashley piped up. "Typical Cerberus, giving us completely useless advice."

"Ash," Shepherd said warningly. "What about a proximity mine? Would that work?"

"Theoretically, but I don't think those are standard Alliance issue either."

"Leave that to me. There's an armory near here. And Ash did say she wanted Kirrahe's pistol."

Miranda looked at the map. The armory was covered in red dots. Panic welled inside her. "Negative, Commander. You'll get slaughtered."

"Isn't this what you brought me back for?" Miranda must've been hearing things, because it sounded for all the world like Shepard was laughing. "Doing the impossible? You know me, I love a challenge."

Miranda turned away. "Dammit, Shepard," she whispered. "Just be careful." She hoped Shepard hadn't heard. That was one command she always disobeyed.

"Be careful," Lawson had said, so softly that Rachel wasn't sure she had heard correctly. Not that she had ever been any good at it. Miranda was the methodical one who never took a shot until she knew it would hit her opponent right between the eyes. Rachel charged into the fray and hoped for the best. Sheer power could get you through a lot of life. It could get her through half a dozen Cerberus goons.

And they were beautifully clustered together, too. Miranda had tried to explain the mechanics of exactly how Rachel could use mass effect fields to launch herself from one point to another. All Rachel knew was that she was capable of launching herself toward enemies with enough force to shatter their rib cages. Whatever she didn't kill outright was left open to a blast from her shotgun.

Some called it reckless or stupid, but to Rachel, it was as close to flight as man would ever come without the use of machines. Time slowed, and the world narrowed to the point in front of her. There was always a terrifying half-second where it felt like she was being squeezed through a too-small tube of toothpaste. And then, there was only freedom. Energy. Power.

She barreled into the first two with enough force to send them flying. Now this, this would be the tricky part. It always took a moment for the field to disperse, but she could control it. Force it to radiate outward like a shockwave at the cost of leaving her unprotected. A brief flash of intense energy followed by complete nothingness. It was like a star blowing up—or a relay. Power flooded her, arcing along her arms and legs, and filling her vision and her mind until there was nothing left. The force radiated ever outward. There was nothing but the energy. Rachel wasn't the director, merely the conduit. Roaring filled her ears, and then there were panicked mechanical screams. And then—

And then there was nothing. Rachel fell to her knees and opened her eyes. Around her were the mangled bodies of what was left of the Cerberus troopers. There was nothing beautiful or glorious about these corpses, with their glowing eyes and bones sticking out. And nothing glorious about the way she felt now. Cold sweat covered her, and every time Rachel did this it seemed harder and harder to drag herself to her feet. There would be no more flying around the battlefield today.

Soon, there will be no more flying around the battlefield at all, said a voice like Saren's. How long do you think you can keep this up, Shepard?

"As long as I need to." Rachel hauled herself to her feet. She had a pistol to find and a krogan to rescue. Nothing else mattered.

One by one the lights went out. Some in groups of two or three. Those were Shepard's. Miranda was torn between relief and terror. She had created a goddess of war, a secular Joan of Arc. It had never been a question of whether Shepard could win, only of the cost. Every barrier created, every foe shredded, increased the fire flowing through her nervous system.

"Got it," Shepard panted. "You won't believe this thing. It fires explosives!"

Miranda hoped it was worth the risk of a wildfire.