Persistence of Memory (Miranda/Liara, NC-17) 2/8
Title: Persistence of Memory
Characters/Pairings:Miranda/Liara
Rating: NC-17 eventually
Warnings: Violence and some discussion of child abuse in later chapters.
Summary: Liara has information critical to restoring Shepard. Miranda will do anything to get it. She'll even teach Liara how not to get killed. Facing her own past-and her attraction to Liara-was never part of the bargain.
AN: Thanks to fongiel24 for beta services.
Previous
They spent the next few minutes making idle conversation. By the time Miranda left Halledan, the sky was choked with aircars as commuters made their way home. Miranda's rental car was a boxy, unstylish thing built for fuel economy and reliability instead of speed and maneuverability. Better than waiting for a taxi in this traffic, but not by much. There would have been a time when she would've been able to simply fly above the worst of the congestion and practically have the sky to herself. She thought longingly of the 2180 Tennokot she'd been forced to sell to an acquaintance. No need for a sports car on a space station. She wondered if she'd be able to buy it back when Lazarus was concluded, then pushed the thought away. There would be time later to mourn her petty luxuries.
Her apartment was two rooms in a neighborhood remarkable only for its complete ordinariness. A faint mustiness clung to the air. This place had never been intended as a home or a permanent base of operations. Her missions in Nos Astra were usually short-term: steal a prototype VI targeting system, plant a rumor that the chief of police was taking more than the acceptable amount of bribe money so that someone more amenable to Cerberus interests would take her place, assassinate a slaver preying on human colonies who thought her money and political connections made her untouchable. There had never been a need to personalize this apartment or similar ones on Omega or the Citadel. It was clean and secure. That was what mattered.
She took a seat at the desk in the far corner of her bedroom. There was much to do in the hours before Liara arrived. The most important of which was to make sure that her greybox was operating at peak efficiency. If there were any potential problems, she needed to know now so she could develop a workaround. "Lights: dim," she said. "Noise cancellation: 100%." The apartment lights obediently dimmed, transforming the walls from off-white to gray. The already faint sounds of Nos Astra's bustle fell silent. Memory retrieval could be done in any environment, of course; but like its organic counterpart, the greybox worked best when its user was free from distraction and unnecessary stimuli. Miranda closed her eyes and counted backwards from ten very slowly. The outside world fell away and she was lost to the memories.
Miranda had been among the first non-Alzheimer's patients to be installed with a mnemonic neural stimulator. Her father had wanted the best memory could buy. The salarians' eidetic memories made them the galaxy's premier scientists and spies. Simple genetic engineering would never allow humanity to compete, no more than those children who had developed biotic talent could compete with the asari. Surgery would have to pick up where nature left off. David Ellison had taken the daughter he had intended as an exemplar of humanity and pushed her beyond even that. She would never forget anything that happened from the date of the last surgery to the present. Her memories would never be stolen by dementia. And she was the only member of the Lazarus Cell who stood a chance of retrieving Shepard's memories.
There were side effects. Miranda did not think like an ordinary human. An ordinary person's mind was jumbled. He would remember what he had for breakfast that morning-a bagel and coffee. The coffee would remind him of his first wife, who always took it with cream. This would remind him that his current wife would be late because she was picking the kids up from baseball practice, which would remind him that he had tickets to Saturday's Bears game. Without conscious thought, he might suddenly find himself thinking of how his favorite player from a completely different team was doing. All from breakfast. Marketers had spent a fortune studying the haphazard methods of the human mind.
Miranda's wasn't like that. When Miranda thought of breakfast, the greybox supplied a litany of meals organized by date, location, or main course. If she focused on coffee, it would call up everything from drinking synthetic swill on Omega to an extranet report on the death of the CEO of Stellar Coffee that she'd read two years ago. But she had to choose to think of these things. She wasn't a drell. Memories could no longer flicker unbidden through her mind. The greybox stored information. It did not prod. Miranda's mind was a neat, orderly place. This was by necessity. She was still human. Her mind still made connections between seemingly unrelated things. The difference was that if her thoughts were left a jumbled mess-if any of those connections could be activated at any moment-then her brain would suddenly be forced to deal with twenty years worth of data. She would remember one thing and be forced to remember twenty others only tangentially related. Her synapses would burn out from the strain of vomiting up information.
Liara T'Soni, she thought. The greybox served up its accumulated data at what another part of her mind recognized was an acceptable rate. Her mind's eye saw them as row upon row of still images, like previews of videos waiting to be played back in full. In less time than it took her to blink, she had the one she wanted.
Miranda stood at the bow of the ship and stared at the viewport. Around her, the crew had fallen silent. Tension filled the air. Combat was imminent. Tazzik's ship sped toward the Omega-2 relay. Miranda's lips curved into a smile. He was fast, but they were faster. A display showed the ever-shrinking distance between them. 20,000 kilometers. 15,000, 10,000... A few more seconds and their disruptor torpedoes would be in range. It wouldn't take more than two well-placed shots to disable Tazzik's ship. She'd have Shepard's body and a highly placed Shadow Broker operative that she could interrogate at her leisure. She clenched the railing. "Fire on my mark."
"Wait." Even in holographic form, the Illusive Man retained an air of unshakable authority. "As much as we want Shepard's body, it's more important that we find out why the Collectors want it. If we stop the deal now, we'll never find out."
Irritation coursed through her. She'd caught the scent of blood, and it was painful to be denied her prey now. "Understood sir, but I still wish you'd let us-"
A new ship zipped into view. It was a small, lithe thing, less a spaceship and more an aircar given FTL capability. Miranda's eyes widened in recognition. "Feron and Liara. Let me follow them if you won't let me follow Tazzik." Someone needed to make sure that Liara survived this and that Feron wasn't just biding his time until he could stab them in the back.
"Patience, Miranda. We know where they're going. Let this play out." He smiled, his way of reminding her that he knew more and saw more than she did. "Besides, I have other assets that you aren't aware of."
The memory ended, and Miranda returned to the present with a gasp. She was once again aware of her hands resting lightly on the table and the feel of the chair beneath her. After a few seconds, her heartbeat resumed its normal rhythm. The greybox had performed perfectly.
The memory itself was more troubling. She had dutifully stepped back and allowed Liara and Feron to pursue Tazzik to Alignon without her. Suppose she hadn't. Suppose she had taken the shot. She pictured a disruptor torpedo ripping Tazzik's engine to shreds. He would never have gotten near the Collectors. Feron wouldn't have been captured. Liara wouldn't have been engaged in some suicidal quest for atonement. It had all been for nothing. Cerberus still had no better idea why the Collectors wanted Shepard's body than they had when she'd first received intel of their deal with the Shadow Broker. She wasn't to blame for all that followed. Feron had known the risks. She hadn't told Liara to wage a one-woman crusade against the most powerful being in the galaxy. And yet... Miranda was, perhaps, responsible. If she had disobeyed the Illusive Man's orders, Liara would be safe and happy somewhere far from Illium. If she'd followed them to Alignon, Liara would never have been forced to choose between Feron and Shepard. If...
She shook her head. That way lay madness. All she could do now was make the best of what had actually happened. Get Liara's memories and do her best to teach her what she needed to know to survive as an information broker.
Next was what she had come to think of as her Illium Ritual. She powered on her computer and waited impatiently as it logged onto the extranet. Like her omni-tool, the computer was slower and less powerful than what she was used to, meant only for temporary use. She made a mental note to buy new equipment. The apartment's spartan furnishings were one thing. Who cared what color the wallpaper was when you only saw it for an hour a day? The computer was different. It was useful. Only useful things are worth time and money. It was one of the few valuable lessons her father had intentionally taught her.
The computer logged on to the extranet. Miranda ran a local news search for Oriana. One result. She'd been one of the three human members of the Nos Astra Youth Symphony Orchestra that had played Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade for a visiting turian diplomat a month ago. Miranda scanned the article and felt a lump form in her throat. Oriana had performed the violin solo. The diplomat had been reported as saying he was "enthralled by these extremely gifted young musicians."
Her sister was a skilled violinist. Clearly, she shared Miranda's passion for classical music. She wondered if their tastes were similar. Did she love Nielsen as Miranda did? There was no way of knowing except to arrange a meeting and ask her. The temptation to introduce herself to Oriana was one that she continually had to resist. She wanted Oriana to have a normal life. Having a sister who worked for what the Alliance classed as a terrorist organization was anything but normal. If she had no contact with Oriana, then that minimized the chance that one of Miranda's enemies would use her as leverage. It was Miranda's job to prevent Oriana from ever knowing how harsh the galaxy could be, not bring danger to her doorstep. These news articles were the only way she could ever know her. She ought to be grateful that she could even have that much.
She ran a search for Niket as well. No results. That wasn't a surprise. Niket had always had her genius for passing unnoticed to everyone except her. She'd teased him and told him that he should be a spy when he grew up. He'd blushed and shook his head. The Petersens had been groundskeepers for the Ellisons for over forty years, and his father would be crushed if he didn't carry on the family tradition. Gail had been astonished. Didn't he want anything better out of life? Miranda had been charmed. His lack of ambition meant he never wanted anything from her, either. She and Gail would run off to university someday and change the world. She'd had Gail for the excitement and thrill of staying up at all hours making plans to leave New South Wales forever. Niket was solid and dependable, someone she rarely had to think of but could always rely on. Miranda's lips thinned. He had proved to be the reliable one after all. He'd never take her father's money. Her fingers hovered over the keys. The temptation to type in Gail's name was suddenly overpowering. Miranda pushed it down. It was probably better not to know what she'd done with the Oxford education her father had purchased for her in exchange for leaving Miranda behind. Whoever said love is the most powerful force in the galaxy never saw my father's bank account.
Now to begin her work in earnest. Liara's most urgent problem was finding the Palon family genetic data within three days. That could prove problematic. Much of a clan's power rested in its ability to make useful dynastic and political alliances via reproduction. Genetic defects would weaken the next generation. A salarian with particularly good genes might be able to make an advantageous match far in excess of his actual wealth or power because his genes would strengthen the other family. Genetic data was a powerful bargaining chip and therefore jealously guarded. There were only a few places outside a family's personal archive where the data might be found. It wasn't unusual for families to share the data with pharmaceutical and bioengineering firms and contract them to remove undesirable traits from the bloodline. The companies took data security seriously, but it was still her best shot. First, she had to find out which firm the Palon family was using. She typed "Palon" into the search engine The extranet could at least provide background information.
Five minutes later, Miranda had what she was looking for. An article in Lucre dated four months ago reported thatthe head of the Palon family had signed a multiyear, multimillion credit deal with the Dantius Corporation. The accompanying picture showed a family representative shaking hands with the freshly installed CEO, Nassana Dantius. Wonderful. Dantius had been a diplomat on the Citadel for years. Miranda had never worked with her directly, but her contacts had. In addition to the usual political vice of being willing to sell her own grandmother if it would help her gain power, the woman had been a paranoid wreck. Her secretary had gone on a "vacation" from which she had never returned. Officially, the missing-persons case was still open. Unofficially, it was rumored that Dantius had had her killed when she had become a little too free with her gossip. Of course, it was also rumored that more than one of her siblings was involved in organized crime, so perhaps her paranoia was justified.
Liara arrived at 8:29. She'd changed out of her dress into a blue and white jacket with matching trousers. The outfit complemented her eyes nicely. Some of the color had returned to her face Her pupils had returned to their normal size. Liara's gaze swept around the room before landing on Miranda. Her hands twisted nervously. "Reminds me of my old dorm room. I was hardly there except to sleep." She spoke very quickly. Clearly, one of Miranda's lessons would have to be How to Make Small Talk Without Sounding As If You're Going To Have A Panic Attack. "The other girls on my floor were always throwing parties. Made it impossible to study, so I..."
"Calm down, Liara." Miranda rose from her chair. It's only me. You don't have to be nervous, she wanted to say, but didn't. "I have something for you," she said and briefly summarized her findings. "If I were Dantius, I'd keep the data on a closed system away from the main network."
"So we can't hack into it?"
"Not from here." She pursed her lips, thinking. "If I were doing this on my own, I'd release a virus into the main network, forge some credentials, and waltz through the front door as the information security expert that they called to troubleshoot the problem."
Liara stepped closer. "That's not an option for me. Even if I could successfully pass myself off as a computer wizard, I can't step outside of my office without being recognized as either Benezia's daughter or as part of the team that defeated Saren. Anything I do will have to be under my own identity."
"Right. You're a known quantity, which can be an advantage in some cases but seriously limits our options here."
"I suppose we'd have to break in and steal the information." To her credit, Liara made the suggestion in exactly the same tone as she would have suggested going out for dinner. Miranda had almost expected her to be visibly disgusted by the idea. "Dantius Towers is not the place I'd choose to commit my first felony." She smiled slightly at her own joke.
"Nor would I." She'd planned and executed break-ins in less than three days before, but those had been crude smash-and-grab affairs and she hadn't been working with a neophyte partner who intended to continue her high-profile life in the same city. "I'll think of something." She sat down again.
Liara bowed her head and steepled her fingers. "Nassana nearly got Shepard killed the first time they met. She told us that her sister had been captured and was being held for ransom by slavers. When we got to the coordinates we found a small army of pirates and slavers. Nasanna's sister was the leader. We found out later that she was blackmailing Nasanna." She looked up. "I'd like to repay her for that."
What? "Nasanna asked Shepard to kill her sister?"
"Technically, she asked her to kill the leader of the slavers."
"Irrelevant." Miranda waved the last part of the story away. "A prominent diplomat arranged for the first human Spectre to kill her sister. We need information from that diplomat. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because it doesn't matter," Liara snapped. Miranda shot her an incredulous look, so she began again. "She spoke with Shepard in private. I only found out about the conversation when Shepard told me about it. I don't have any proof that Nassana wanted her sister dead, nothing that would hold up anyway."
Miranda wanted to laugh. "You're thinking too much like an academic. We don't need proof. The worst thing that can happen to a CEO on Illium isn't to be arrested for murder. It's pathetically easy to conjure up some 'procedural irregularity' and get the charges dropped if you're wealthy or well-connected enough. No, the worst thing that can happen is for the company stock to nosedive." Miranda smiled in triumph. "And all that takes is a few well-placed rumors. You could ruin her life in less than a week. If you wanted to blackmail her, all you'd need to do is threaten to leak the information to the tabloids." She frowned. "But blackmailing her directly would be suicide because-"
Miranda watched as Liara followed her train of thought, could see the exact moment she understood. "-because the last person who blackmailed Nassana ended up dead. But Nassana hasn't been CEO for long. She's not very popular, either, from what I hear. She's bound to have enemies within the company. Highly placed ones with access to the data." Her eyes were alive with manic energy as she paced the length of the room. This must be how she had looked when she had developed her theory on Prothean extinction. "We trade the data for information that they can use to depose Nasanna at their leisure or hold in reserve in case they need a bargaining chip. They would be the ones in danger."
For a moment, Miranda could only stare at her. Then she smiled. "You're a natural at this, aren't you?"
Liara's face darkened. The energy that had seized her only a moment ago vanished. She seemed smaller, weaker, more fragile. "I hope not," she whispered. "But I'm a quick learner."
"Yes, you are," Miranda said. She wanted to add something encouraging, something that would let Liara know that she could and would succeed, but she couldn't think of anything that wasn't a lie, meaningless, or both. "I'll do some digging and see if I can find a likely prospect."
"Thank you. I'll want to know how you made the decision, if I don't kill you in the next few minutes." She sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. "You don't have to do this. There has to be a safer way of making sure Shepard's personality is intact."
"Full of confidence, aren't we?" Miranda said with a lightness she didn't really feel. Now that the moment was upon her, her hands were cold and her mouth dry. She had never been afraid of her own death. She'd put her life on the line in the service of humanity for over fifteen years, and there were fates worse than death. This was different. She'd always been introverted, and life with her father and the constant, unspoken threat of the asylum had taught her to keep her thoughts and emotions well-hidden. She'd known intellectually that she'd have to join minds with Liara for this to work. Knowing wasn't the same as having Liara in her apartment, preparing to actually do it. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse that it was Liara she would be joining minds with. She knew Liara. She was attracted to Liara.
Worse. Definitely worse. I hope you're worth it, Shepard. Too late to turn back now, though. This was merely the latest, most personal sacrifice she would have to make to defeat the Reapers. She willed her heartbeat to slow to at least approximate normalcy. "Tell me what I have to do."
Liara patted the edge of the bed. "Come here. Sit by me." Miranda obeyed, angling herself so that she could look Liara in the eyes. Her right leg brushed against Liara's left. Liara took her hands in hers. Her touch was light, not at all the death grip Miranda had been expecting. Miranda did not pull away. Liara was reassuringly solid and warm, and Miranda needed the reminder of the physical universe just now.
"I spent a lot of time thinking about what to share with you." Liara's words seemed to tumble from her mouth. "In case we only got one shot at this. I wanted something that could sum up Shepard for you. Something you wouldn't see in the newsvids. But nothing too personal. I don't want to bore you or embarrass you. Not that Cerberus isn't interested in the personal details, I'm sure, but..."
"Just get on with it!"
Liara flushed a faint purple and closed her eyes. "Sorry." Three seconds passed. Miranda could feel her heart racing again, but this time she didn't even try to calm herself. Liara's eyes snapped open. They were black, but seemed almost to glow. It was like looking into an abyss, with the hint of something primal and unknowable awaiting her at the bottom. Miranda pulled back instinctively, but it was too late. "Embrace eternity!"
Some inexorable force drew her forward, and then she was no longer in the apartment. She could see nothing, not even the darkness. The warmth of Liara's hand on hers was the only sign that she still had a body at all. Unfamiliar emotions-grief, guilt, fear-brushed by her and were gone. Liara's emotions. She was aware of Liara's grip tightening. And then...
The image was blurry, as if she were looking at a reflection in water, but she recognized the scene: the crew deck of the Normandy. She could feel something hard pressing into her back. A locker. Dim flickers of frustration and anger passed over her, ghosts of Shepard's own feelings.
A shadow passed over her. She was not alone. Liara stood over her. The part of Miranda's mind that was still her own noted that Liara seemed much younger than she had when they'd met on Omega. Her eyes were brighter, her posture more relaxed. She frowned. "Commander...Shepard, I cannot believe they did this to you. I'm so sorry."
Her lips formed a smile that was only half-faked. Liara was here, and that was something. Even if the Council was made up of morons who were actively trying to doom the galaxy. "It's not you're fault."
"But it's not right! You did everything they asked and more. The Council owes you everything, and they repay you by grounding the Normandy."
"And gave Saren a free pass to find the Conduit. Don't forget that part."
Liara's expression turned thoughtful. "Perhaps we could appeal. Get them to reverse their decision. I've met Tevos a few times when she came to..." Her voice quavered, but only a little. "... to visit my mother. She always seemed reasonable."
She buried her face in her hands. "I've tried everything I know to do."
"And so now you'll just give up? You survived Akuze when everyone around you was dying, but you'll let Saren win because of a few politicians?"
She looked up, surprised. Liara was seldom angry, and never with her. It didn't really suit her. She'd gotten used to thinking of Liara as always even-tempered, counseling mercy even for those who didn't deserve it. Liara would probably find it in her heart to forgive those Cerberus bastards for everything they'd done. But her eyes were flashing now. She had let Liara down. The thought made her ashamed and a little sad. She couldn't let Liara down. "What do you want me to do?"
"Be the hero that I know you are." Liara's face softened, and she extended her hand. "I'm with you every step of the way."
Hero. Right. She needed to be a hero. The galaxy was counting on her. Liara was counting on her. Heroes didn't sit around moping while the bad guys tried to conquer the galaxy. She gripped Liara's hand and hauled herself to her feet.
The image flickered. Back in the physical world, Miranda was aware of Liara's nails scraping her palm. Miranda could feel the echo of her embarrassment. She was trying to pull away, push Miranda back toward Ilium and away from whatever private moment came next.
Liara wasn't quite fast enough, or strong enough or whatever it was she needed to be. The image resolved itself. She was standing now. She put her arms around Liara. "Every step of the way, huh?" she whispered against Liara's mouth and kissed her. Liara made a strangled sound in the back of her throat, but opened her mouth anyway. Heat spiraled through her. Like everything else in the memory, it was faded, distorted. It was still enough to make her shiver and her skin felt tight. "More," she whispered.
There was a sharp pain behind her eyes, and Miranda found herself thrown back into the physical world. She could feel the mattress beneath her, hard and unforgiving, and smell the stale air. Her mouth felt dry and her cheeks hot. Everything felt more real, more intense. The sensory overload was too much. She wobbled dangerously. Liara released one hand and put an arm around Miranda to steady her.
Liara's eyes were wide, and she looked as flushed as Miranda felt. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." The words came out as something closer to a croak than human speech. She was alive, at any rate. She'd process the rest of it later. Another stabbing pain lanced through her head. She sucked in a breath. Now I know what an L2 feels like. "Give me a minute."
They sat like that for a long time. The only sound was Miranda's hoarse pants. Liara seemed content to brace her and wait for her to recover at her own pace and not fuss over her. Miranda was grateful. Her father had provided her with an army of servants, tutors, and doctors whose job it had been to fuss over her-and make sure she was never truly alone. Deep breaths. In and out. Don't think about the pain. Think about something else. Liara. The memory you just saw. Liara kissing Shepard. She grimaced. Or not.
Gradually, the pain subsided into a dull throbbing. She was able to notice other things. Liara was nibbling her bottom lip and sneaking furtive glances at Miranda every few seconds. "What?"
"I-you were never supposed to see...that last bit. I was supposed to stop it, but I lost control. I made you feel that." She looked down and removed her hand from Miranda's. "And worse."
Worse? And then it hit her. A cold, hollow feeling welled inside her. Shepard had begged for more, but Shepard had been unable to speak. And yet, Miranda remembered a whisper. She had spoken aloud. She had let herself be controlled by her own lust. That memory of a kiss was as close as she would ever come to ever doing the same to Liara. She'd allowed herself to be carried away as if she were still a lovesick teenager. She hadn't even tried to fight it. She'd wanted it.
That was the most subtle danger she faced, that she would lose control and allow her feelings for Liara to cloud her judgment and interfere with the task at hand. Stopping the transfers wasn't an option, now that she knew that they wouldn't kill her outright. She'd never let her emotions rule her before. She wouldn't start now. "Just try not to bring up any 'intimate moments' in the future." Her voice was cool and professional, or as close a facsimile as she could manage under the circumstances. "I'll see what I can find on Dantius. Next time, I want to see something from Virmire. Can you do that?"
Liara nodded dumbly.
"We'll get through this." I'll see to that, no matter what I have to do.
Next
Characters/Pairings:Miranda/Liara
Rating: NC-17 eventually
Warnings: Violence and some discussion of child abuse in later chapters.
Summary: Liara has information critical to restoring Shepard. Miranda will do anything to get it. She'll even teach Liara how not to get killed. Facing her own past-and her attraction to Liara-was never part of the bargain.
AN: Thanks to fongiel24 for beta services.
Previous
They spent the next few minutes making idle conversation. By the time Miranda left Halledan, the sky was choked with aircars as commuters made their way home. Miranda's rental car was a boxy, unstylish thing built for fuel economy and reliability instead of speed and maneuverability. Better than waiting for a taxi in this traffic, but not by much. There would have been a time when she would've been able to simply fly above the worst of the congestion and practically have the sky to herself. She thought longingly of the 2180 Tennokot she'd been forced to sell to an acquaintance. No need for a sports car on a space station. She wondered if she'd be able to buy it back when Lazarus was concluded, then pushed the thought away. There would be time later to mourn her petty luxuries.
Her apartment was two rooms in a neighborhood remarkable only for its complete ordinariness. A faint mustiness clung to the air. This place had never been intended as a home or a permanent base of operations. Her missions in Nos Astra were usually short-term: steal a prototype VI targeting system, plant a rumor that the chief of police was taking more than the acceptable amount of bribe money so that someone more amenable to Cerberus interests would take her place, assassinate a slaver preying on human colonies who thought her money and political connections made her untouchable. There had never been a need to personalize this apartment or similar ones on Omega or the Citadel. It was clean and secure. That was what mattered.
She took a seat at the desk in the far corner of her bedroom. There was much to do in the hours before Liara arrived. The most important of which was to make sure that her greybox was operating at peak efficiency. If there were any potential problems, she needed to know now so she could develop a workaround. "Lights: dim," she said. "Noise cancellation: 100%." The apartment lights obediently dimmed, transforming the walls from off-white to gray. The already faint sounds of Nos Astra's bustle fell silent. Memory retrieval could be done in any environment, of course; but like its organic counterpart, the greybox worked best when its user was free from distraction and unnecessary stimuli. Miranda closed her eyes and counted backwards from ten very slowly. The outside world fell away and she was lost to the memories.
Miranda had been among the first non-Alzheimer's patients to be installed with a mnemonic neural stimulator. Her father had wanted the best memory could buy. The salarians' eidetic memories made them the galaxy's premier scientists and spies. Simple genetic engineering would never allow humanity to compete, no more than those children who had developed biotic talent could compete with the asari. Surgery would have to pick up where nature left off. David Ellison had taken the daughter he had intended as an exemplar of humanity and pushed her beyond even that. She would never forget anything that happened from the date of the last surgery to the present. Her memories would never be stolen by dementia. And she was the only member of the Lazarus Cell who stood a chance of retrieving Shepard's memories.
There were side effects. Miranda did not think like an ordinary human. An ordinary person's mind was jumbled. He would remember what he had for breakfast that morning-a bagel and coffee. The coffee would remind him of his first wife, who always took it with cream. This would remind him that his current wife would be late because she was picking the kids up from baseball practice, which would remind him that he had tickets to Saturday's Bears game. Without conscious thought, he might suddenly find himself thinking of how his favorite player from a completely different team was doing. All from breakfast. Marketers had spent a fortune studying the haphazard methods of the human mind.
Miranda's wasn't like that. When Miranda thought of breakfast, the greybox supplied a litany of meals organized by date, location, or main course. If she focused on coffee, it would call up everything from drinking synthetic swill on Omega to an extranet report on the death of the CEO of Stellar Coffee that she'd read two years ago. But she had to choose to think of these things. She wasn't a drell. Memories could no longer flicker unbidden through her mind. The greybox stored information. It did not prod. Miranda's mind was a neat, orderly place. This was by necessity. She was still human. Her mind still made connections between seemingly unrelated things. The difference was that if her thoughts were left a jumbled mess-if any of those connections could be activated at any moment-then her brain would suddenly be forced to deal with twenty years worth of data. She would remember one thing and be forced to remember twenty others only tangentially related. Her synapses would burn out from the strain of vomiting up information.
Liara T'Soni, she thought. The greybox served up its accumulated data at what another part of her mind recognized was an acceptable rate. Her mind's eye saw them as row upon row of still images, like previews of videos waiting to be played back in full. In less time than it took her to blink, she had the one she wanted.
Miranda stood at the bow of the ship and stared at the viewport. Around her, the crew had fallen silent. Tension filled the air. Combat was imminent. Tazzik's ship sped toward the Omega-2 relay. Miranda's lips curved into a smile. He was fast, but they were faster. A display showed the ever-shrinking distance between them. 20,000 kilometers. 15,000, 10,000... A few more seconds and their disruptor torpedoes would be in range. It wouldn't take more than two well-placed shots to disable Tazzik's ship. She'd have Shepard's body and a highly placed Shadow Broker operative that she could interrogate at her leisure. She clenched the railing. "Fire on my mark."
"Wait." Even in holographic form, the Illusive Man retained an air of unshakable authority. "As much as we want Shepard's body, it's more important that we find out why the Collectors want it. If we stop the deal now, we'll never find out."
Irritation coursed through her. She'd caught the scent of blood, and it was painful to be denied her prey now. "Understood sir, but I still wish you'd let us-"
A new ship zipped into view. It was a small, lithe thing, less a spaceship and more an aircar given FTL capability. Miranda's eyes widened in recognition. "Feron and Liara. Let me follow them if you won't let me follow Tazzik." Someone needed to make sure that Liara survived this and that Feron wasn't just biding his time until he could stab them in the back.
"Patience, Miranda. We know where they're going. Let this play out." He smiled, his way of reminding her that he knew more and saw more than she did. "Besides, I have other assets that you aren't aware of."
The memory ended, and Miranda returned to the present with a gasp. She was once again aware of her hands resting lightly on the table and the feel of the chair beneath her. After a few seconds, her heartbeat resumed its normal rhythm. The greybox had performed perfectly.
The memory itself was more troubling. She had dutifully stepped back and allowed Liara and Feron to pursue Tazzik to Alignon without her. Suppose she hadn't. Suppose she had taken the shot. She pictured a disruptor torpedo ripping Tazzik's engine to shreds. He would never have gotten near the Collectors. Feron wouldn't have been captured. Liara wouldn't have been engaged in some suicidal quest for atonement. It had all been for nothing. Cerberus still had no better idea why the Collectors wanted Shepard's body than they had when she'd first received intel of their deal with the Shadow Broker. She wasn't to blame for all that followed. Feron had known the risks. She hadn't told Liara to wage a one-woman crusade against the most powerful being in the galaxy. And yet... Miranda was, perhaps, responsible. If she had disobeyed the Illusive Man's orders, Liara would be safe and happy somewhere far from Illium. If she'd followed them to Alignon, Liara would never have been forced to choose between Feron and Shepard. If...
She shook her head. That way lay madness. All she could do now was make the best of what had actually happened. Get Liara's memories and do her best to teach her what she needed to know to survive as an information broker.
Next was what she had come to think of as her Illium Ritual. She powered on her computer and waited impatiently as it logged onto the extranet. Like her omni-tool, the computer was slower and less powerful than what she was used to, meant only for temporary use. She made a mental note to buy new equipment. The apartment's spartan furnishings were one thing. Who cared what color the wallpaper was when you only saw it for an hour a day? The computer was different. It was useful. Only useful things are worth time and money. It was one of the few valuable lessons her father had intentionally taught her.
The computer logged on to the extranet. Miranda ran a local news search for Oriana. One result. She'd been one of the three human members of the Nos Astra Youth Symphony Orchestra that had played Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade for a visiting turian diplomat a month ago. Miranda scanned the article and felt a lump form in her throat. Oriana had performed the violin solo. The diplomat had been reported as saying he was "enthralled by these extremely gifted young musicians."
Her sister was a skilled violinist. Clearly, she shared Miranda's passion for classical music. She wondered if their tastes were similar. Did she love Nielsen as Miranda did? There was no way of knowing except to arrange a meeting and ask her. The temptation to introduce herself to Oriana was one that she continually had to resist. She wanted Oriana to have a normal life. Having a sister who worked for what the Alliance classed as a terrorist organization was anything but normal. If she had no contact with Oriana, then that minimized the chance that one of Miranda's enemies would use her as leverage. It was Miranda's job to prevent Oriana from ever knowing how harsh the galaxy could be, not bring danger to her doorstep. These news articles were the only way she could ever know her. She ought to be grateful that she could even have that much.
She ran a search for Niket as well. No results. That wasn't a surprise. Niket had always had her genius for passing unnoticed to everyone except her. She'd teased him and told him that he should be a spy when he grew up. He'd blushed and shook his head. The Petersens had been groundskeepers for the Ellisons for over forty years, and his father would be crushed if he didn't carry on the family tradition. Gail had been astonished. Didn't he want anything better out of life? Miranda had been charmed. His lack of ambition meant he never wanted anything from her, either. She and Gail would run off to university someday and change the world. She'd had Gail for the excitement and thrill of staying up at all hours making plans to leave New South Wales forever. Niket was solid and dependable, someone she rarely had to think of but could always rely on. Miranda's lips thinned. He had proved to be the reliable one after all. He'd never take her father's money. Her fingers hovered over the keys. The temptation to type in Gail's name was suddenly overpowering. Miranda pushed it down. It was probably better not to know what she'd done with the Oxford education her father had purchased for her in exchange for leaving Miranda behind. Whoever said love is the most powerful force in the galaxy never saw my father's bank account.
Now to begin her work in earnest. Liara's most urgent problem was finding the Palon family genetic data within three days. That could prove problematic. Much of a clan's power rested in its ability to make useful dynastic and political alliances via reproduction. Genetic defects would weaken the next generation. A salarian with particularly good genes might be able to make an advantageous match far in excess of his actual wealth or power because his genes would strengthen the other family. Genetic data was a powerful bargaining chip and therefore jealously guarded. There were only a few places outside a family's personal archive where the data might be found. It wasn't unusual for families to share the data with pharmaceutical and bioengineering firms and contract them to remove undesirable traits from the bloodline. The companies took data security seriously, but it was still her best shot. First, she had to find out which firm the Palon family was using. She typed "Palon" into the search engine The extranet could at least provide background information.
Five minutes later, Miranda had what she was looking for. An article in Lucre dated four months ago reported thatthe head of the Palon family had signed a multiyear, multimillion credit deal with the Dantius Corporation. The accompanying picture showed a family representative shaking hands with the freshly installed CEO, Nassana Dantius. Wonderful. Dantius had been a diplomat on the Citadel for years. Miranda had never worked with her directly, but her contacts had. In addition to the usual political vice of being willing to sell her own grandmother if it would help her gain power, the woman had been a paranoid wreck. Her secretary had gone on a "vacation" from which she had never returned. Officially, the missing-persons case was still open. Unofficially, it was rumored that Dantius had had her killed when she had become a little too free with her gossip. Of course, it was also rumored that more than one of her siblings was involved in organized crime, so perhaps her paranoia was justified.
Liara arrived at 8:29. She'd changed out of her dress into a blue and white jacket with matching trousers. The outfit complemented her eyes nicely. Some of the color had returned to her face Her pupils had returned to their normal size. Liara's gaze swept around the room before landing on Miranda. Her hands twisted nervously. "Reminds me of my old dorm room. I was hardly there except to sleep." She spoke very quickly. Clearly, one of Miranda's lessons would have to be How to Make Small Talk Without Sounding As If You're Going To Have A Panic Attack. "The other girls on my floor were always throwing parties. Made it impossible to study, so I..."
"Calm down, Liara." Miranda rose from her chair. It's only me. You don't have to be nervous, she wanted to say, but didn't. "I have something for you," she said and briefly summarized her findings. "If I were Dantius, I'd keep the data on a closed system away from the main network."
"So we can't hack into it?"
"Not from here." She pursed her lips, thinking. "If I were doing this on my own, I'd release a virus into the main network, forge some credentials, and waltz through the front door as the information security expert that they called to troubleshoot the problem."
Liara stepped closer. "That's not an option for me. Even if I could successfully pass myself off as a computer wizard, I can't step outside of my office without being recognized as either Benezia's daughter or as part of the team that defeated Saren. Anything I do will have to be under my own identity."
"Right. You're a known quantity, which can be an advantage in some cases but seriously limits our options here."
"I suppose we'd have to break in and steal the information." To her credit, Liara made the suggestion in exactly the same tone as she would have suggested going out for dinner. Miranda had almost expected her to be visibly disgusted by the idea. "Dantius Towers is not the place I'd choose to commit my first felony." She smiled slightly at her own joke.
"Nor would I." She'd planned and executed break-ins in less than three days before, but those had been crude smash-and-grab affairs and she hadn't been working with a neophyte partner who intended to continue her high-profile life in the same city. "I'll think of something." She sat down again.
Liara bowed her head and steepled her fingers. "Nassana nearly got Shepard killed the first time they met. She told us that her sister had been captured and was being held for ransom by slavers. When we got to the coordinates we found a small army of pirates and slavers. Nasanna's sister was the leader. We found out later that she was blackmailing Nasanna." She looked up. "I'd like to repay her for that."
What? "Nasanna asked Shepard to kill her sister?"
"Technically, she asked her to kill the leader of the slavers."
"Irrelevant." Miranda waved the last part of the story away. "A prominent diplomat arranged for the first human Spectre to kill her sister. We need information from that diplomat. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because it doesn't matter," Liara snapped. Miranda shot her an incredulous look, so she began again. "She spoke with Shepard in private. I only found out about the conversation when Shepard told me about it. I don't have any proof that Nassana wanted her sister dead, nothing that would hold up anyway."
Miranda wanted to laugh. "You're thinking too much like an academic. We don't need proof. The worst thing that can happen to a CEO on Illium isn't to be arrested for murder. It's pathetically easy to conjure up some 'procedural irregularity' and get the charges dropped if you're wealthy or well-connected enough. No, the worst thing that can happen is for the company stock to nosedive." Miranda smiled in triumph. "And all that takes is a few well-placed rumors. You could ruin her life in less than a week. If you wanted to blackmail her, all you'd need to do is threaten to leak the information to the tabloids." She frowned. "But blackmailing her directly would be suicide because-"
Miranda watched as Liara followed her train of thought, could see the exact moment she understood. "-because the last person who blackmailed Nassana ended up dead. But Nassana hasn't been CEO for long. She's not very popular, either, from what I hear. She's bound to have enemies within the company. Highly placed ones with access to the data." Her eyes were alive with manic energy as she paced the length of the room. This must be how she had looked when she had developed her theory on Prothean extinction. "We trade the data for information that they can use to depose Nasanna at their leisure or hold in reserve in case they need a bargaining chip. They would be the ones in danger."
For a moment, Miranda could only stare at her. Then she smiled. "You're a natural at this, aren't you?"
Liara's face darkened. The energy that had seized her only a moment ago vanished. She seemed smaller, weaker, more fragile. "I hope not," she whispered. "But I'm a quick learner."
"Yes, you are," Miranda said. She wanted to add something encouraging, something that would let Liara know that she could and would succeed, but she couldn't think of anything that wasn't a lie, meaningless, or both. "I'll do some digging and see if I can find a likely prospect."
"Thank you. I'll want to know how you made the decision, if I don't kill you in the next few minutes." She sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. "You don't have to do this. There has to be a safer way of making sure Shepard's personality is intact."
"Full of confidence, aren't we?" Miranda said with a lightness she didn't really feel. Now that the moment was upon her, her hands were cold and her mouth dry. She had never been afraid of her own death. She'd put her life on the line in the service of humanity for over fifteen years, and there were fates worse than death. This was different. She'd always been introverted, and life with her father and the constant, unspoken threat of the asylum had taught her to keep her thoughts and emotions well-hidden. She'd known intellectually that she'd have to join minds with Liara for this to work. Knowing wasn't the same as having Liara in her apartment, preparing to actually do it. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse that it was Liara she would be joining minds with. She knew Liara. She was attracted to Liara.
Worse. Definitely worse. I hope you're worth it, Shepard. Too late to turn back now, though. This was merely the latest, most personal sacrifice she would have to make to defeat the Reapers. She willed her heartbeat to slow to at least approximate normalcy. "Tell me what I have to do."
Liara patted the edge of the bed. "Come here. Sit by me." Miranda obeyed, angling herself so that she could look Liara in the eyes. Her right leg brushed against Liara's left. Liara took her hands in hers. Her touch was light, not at all the death grip Miranda had been expecting. Miranda did not pull away. Liara was reassuringly solid and warm, and Miranda needed the reminder of the physical universe just now.
"I spent a lot of time thinking about what to share with you." Liara's words seemed to tumble from her mouth. "In case we only got one shot at this. I wanted something that could sum up Shepard for you. Something you wouldn't see in the newsvids. But nothing too personal. I don't want to bore you or embarrass you. Not that Cerberus isn't interested in the personal details, I'm sure, but..."
"Just get on with it!"
Liara flushed a faint purple and closed her eyes. "Sorry." Three seconds passed. Miranda could feel her heart racing again, but this time she didn't even try to calm herself. Liara's eyes snapped open. They were black, but seemed almost to glow. It was like looking into an abyss, with the hint of something primal and unknowable awaiting her at the bottom. Miranda pulled back instinctively, but it was too late. "Embrace eternity!"
Some inexorable force drew her forward, and then she was no longer in the apartment. She could see nothing, not even the darkness. The warmth of Liara's hand on hers was the only sign that she still had a body at all. Unfamiliar emotions-grief, guilt, fear-brushed by her and were gone. Liara's emotions. She was aware of Liara's grip tightening. And then...
The image was blurry, as if she were looking at a reflection in water, but she recognized the scene: the crew deck of the Normandy. She could feel something hard pressing into her back. A locker. Dim flickers of frustration and anger passed over her, ghosts of Shepard's own feelings.
A shadow passed over her. She was not alone. Liara stood over her. The part of Miranda's mind that was still her own noted that Liara seemed much younger than she had when they'd met on Omega. Her eyes were brighter, her posture more relaxed. She frowned. "Commander...Shepard, I cannot believe they did this to you. I'm so sorry."
Her lips formed a smile that was only half-faked. Liara was here, and that was something. Even if the Council was made up of morons who were actively trying to doom the galaxy. "It's not you're fault."
"But it's not right! You did everything they asked and more. The Council owes you everything, and they repay you by grounding the Normandy."
"And gave Saren a free pass to find the Conduit. Don't forget that part."
Liara's expression turned thoughtful. "Perhaps we could appeal. Get them to reverse their decision. I've met Tevos a few times when she came to..." Her voice quavered, but only a little. "... to visit my mother. She always seemed reasonable."
She buried her face in her hands. "I've tried everything I know to do."
"And so now you'll just give up? You survived Akuze when everyone around you was dying, but you'll let Saren win because of a few politicians?"
She looked up, surprised. Liara was seldom angry, and never with her. It didn't really suit her. She'd gotten used to thinking of Liara as always even-tempered, counseling mercy even for those who didn't deserve it. Liara would probably find it in her heart to forgive those Cerberus bastards for everything they'd done. But her eyes were flashing now. She had let Liara down. The thought made her ashamed and a little sad. She couldn't let Liara down. "What do you want me to do?"
"Be the hero that I know you are." Liara's face softened, and she extended her hand. "I'm with you every step of the way."
Hero. Right. She needed to be a hero. The galaxy was counting on her. Liara was counting on her. Heroes didn't sit around moping while the bad guys tried to conquer the galaxy. She gripped Liara's hand and hauled herself to her feet.
The image flickered. Back in the physical world, Miranda was aware of Liara's nails scraping her palm. Miranda could feel the echo of her embarrassment. She was trying to pull away, push Miranda back toward Ilium and away from whatever private moment came next.
Liara wasn't quite fast enough, or strong enough or whatever it was she needed to be. The image resolved itself. She was standing now. She put her arms around Liara. "Every step of the way, huh?" she whispered against Liara's mouth and kissed her. Liara made a strangled sound in the back of her throat, but opened her mouth anyway. Heat spiraled through her. Like everything else in the memory, it was faded, distorted. It was still enough to make her shiver and her skin felt tight. "More," she whispered.
There was a sharp pain behind her eyes, and Miranda found herself thrown back into the physical world. She could feel the mattress beneath her, hard and unforgiving, and smell the stale air. Her mouth felt dry and her cheeks hot. Everything felt more real, more intense. The sensory overload was too much. She wobbled dangerously. Liara released one hand and put an arm around Miranda to steady her.
Liara's eyes were wide, and she looked as flushed as Miranda felt. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." The words came out as something closer to a croak than human speech. She was alive, at any rate. She'd process the rest of it later. Another stabbing pain lanced through her head. She sucked in a breath. Now I know what an L2 feels like. "Give me a minute."
They sat like that for a long time. The only sound was Miranda's hoarse pants. Liara seemed content to brace her and wait for her to recover at her own pace and not fuss over her. Miranda was grateful. Her father had provided her with an army of servants, tutors, and doctors whose job it had been to fuss over her-and make sure she was never truly alone. Deep breaths. In and out. Don't think about the pain. Think about something else. Liara. The memory you just saw. Liara kissing Shepard. She grimaced. Or not.
Gradually, the pain subsided into a dull throbbing. She was able to notice other things. Liara was nibbling her bottom lip and sneaking furtive glances at Miranda every few seconds. "What?"
"I-you were never supposed to see...that last bit. I was supposed to stop it, but I lost control. I made you feel that." She looked down and removed her hand from Miranda's. "And worse."
Worse? And then it hit her. A cold, hollow feeling welled inside her. Shepard had begged for more, but Shepard had been unable to speak. And yet, Miranda remembered a whisper. She had spoken aloud. She had let herself be controlled by her own lust. That memory of a kiss was as close as she would ever come to ever doing the same to Liara. She'd allowed herself to be carried away as if she were still a lovesick teenager. She hadn't even tried to fight it. She'd wanted it.
That was the most subtle danger she faced, that she would lose control and allow her feelings for Liara to cloud her judgment and interfere with the task at hand. Stopping the transfers wasn't an option, now that she knew that they wouldn't kill her outright. She'd never let her emotions rule her before. She wouldn't start now. "Just try not to bring up any 'intimate moments' in the future." Her voice was cool and professional, or as close a facsimile as she could manage under the circumstances. "I'll see what I can find on Dantius. Next time, I want to see something from Virmire. Can you do that?"
Liara nodded dumbly.
"We'll get through this." I'll see to that, no matter what I have to do.
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