Persistence of Memory (Miranda/Liara, NC-17) 3/8
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
It would've been a nice day under ordinary circumstances. Autumns in Nos Astra were generally mild, especially this early in the morning. Miranda sat at a table in one of the many sidewalk cafés that dotted the trading district. She still wasn't used to the fresh air after months of running around Omega and then being cooped up on Lazarus Station. It was nice to feel the wind in your hair. She nibbled on the roll she'd bought. The food was better, too. None of the MREs or cafeteria food that she'd been subsisting on. It was almost perfect.
Almost. Across the street, Liara sat at an almost identical table in an almost identical café. She was too far away for Miranda to see her expression clearly, but she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. The listening device Miranda had placed underneath the table picked up the sound of rapid, shallow breathing. Miranda smiled grimly. Liara had brought this on herself. Dr. Coburn and his entourage had been due five minutes ago, which meant they wouldn't show up for another ten. Liara, damn her, had insisted on arriving early. She'd learn better in time. If she didn't have a panic attack first.
She removed the datapad Miranda had given her and laid it on the table. The datapad contained a copy of a Serrice Council Trading License issued to one Commander Ruth Shepard. It had also been modified with a microphone to pick up audio from the surrounding area and allow Liara to communicate with her in case of emergency. Any bodyguard worthy of the title would find the bug on the underside of the table, but they would never suspect the datapad of being anything other than ordinary.
Liara gaze darted around the area, as if she were searching for either Coburn, snipers, or both. Miranda had chosen this meeting place partly because would-be assassins wouldn't have a good line of sight to Liara. It was always possible that this meeting was an elaborate ruse and Dantius was using Coburn to draw a potential problem out. Miranda didn't think so, but it was always best to prepare for the worst. She felt the comforting weight of the Karpov beneath her jacket. Any assassins or kidnappers would have to work for their money.
Liara's gaze landed on her. Miranda gave her a curt nod. You'll do fine, kid. Or this is all going to blow up in our faces and you'll be running for your life. One or the other. Liara nodded in return and visibly relaxed. Nothing to do now but wait.
Dr. Coburn arrived ten minutes later, flanked by a pair of asari in dark suits. The one on the left was even younger than Liara, probably no more than seventy or so. She kept tugging at her collar as if she were sweltering in a nonexistent heat. Miranda was familiar with the gesture. The guard was wearing body armor under her clothes and self-conscious about it. She was probably a new recruit Eclipse was testing before giving her any assignments that were actually dangerous. Her partner was a bit older than Liara with deep purple skin. She looked bored. Boredom major sloppy. Neither of them would be a problem if it came to that.
Coburn himself was far more interesting. He was fifty-six but appeared ten years younger. His hair was a shade lighter than Miranda's, but graying at the temple. He was in decent shape for an executive who hadn't actually practiced medicine for at least five years. He'd been the head of Illium Medical Center's neurology department before leaving to become Dantius Enterprises VP of Research and Development. He' been arguing with Dantius ever since the latter had taken the reins of the company. His pet project had been developing a gene therapy program to boost the cognitive ability of vorcha. Dantius had killed the project, claiming that it cost too much for a minimal return. Coburn has been in a rage for weeks afterward. Miranda hoped he still was.
Liara rose to greet him. "Dr. Coburn. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Her voice was soft and honeyed, the perfect gracious host. Almost too perfect. Don't overdo it.
Coburn didn't seem to mind. He gripped Liara's hand in his. "The pleasure is mine, Dr. T'Soni." He enunciated each word with a crispness that spoke of old money and private schools or at least years of elocution lessons. With his free hand, he motioned for the bodyguards to come forward.
They preformed a cursory sweep of the area. The younger one knelt down to search the undersides of the table and chair. She removed the bug Miranda had planted. "Sir! I found something." She seemed inordinately pleased with herself as she held it up for Coburn's inspection.
Liara stiffened almost imperceptibly but said nothing. Coburn took the bug and flipped it over in his hand. He studied it for a long moment before handing it back to the guard. "Nasanna is getting careless. Or she just wants me to know that she's still watching. No matter." He flicked his wrist in a gesture of dismissal. "Thank you, Tarina. I'll let you or Dalaya know if I need anything. Dr. T'Soni and I have business to discuss."
The two asari nodded wordlessly and took seats a few tables away, just inside Liara's field of vision. Several of the other patrons shot them sideways glances and fidgeted. Miranda thinned her lips. Their true role wasn't observation, but intimidation. Remind Liara that she was being watched and keep her off balance. They had the intended effect. Liara paled slightly. Miranda leaned forward in her chair, watching all four of them. If Liara couldn't learn to deal with such ham-fisted tactics, there was no hope for her as an information broker.
But Liara simply smiled and returned to her seat. "Working for an employer who...takes as much interest in her employees as Nasanna does must be very challenging. I can't imagine how you cope."
Miranda let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Good girl.
"Yes, it can be challenging at times to work with someone who lacks the... business acumen I possess. Nassana has been particularly obstinate since returning from the Citadel." He leaned forward in his chair. "Her extreme aversion to risk has resulted in her shutting down any project that she doesn't perceive as immediately profitable, including the intelligent vorcha project I've spent the last sixteen months working on. She claims their utility as slave labour will be completely negated by advancing mech technology but she misses the point. If my project is successful and manages to incorporate the vorcha into the normal economy, can you imagine the size of the consumer base it would create overnight?"
"And you'd be helping them, I suppose."
"That too." He shrugged. "We could receive a badly needed PR boost, though the baseline organic and vorcha rights groups will try to oppose us. We'll win in the end and make a lot of people a lot of money. I might even make CEO sooner rather than later. If I can get this damn project off the ground," he murmured darkly. "I understand you might be able to help with that."
Liara said nothing. Miranda took a long drink of water. She wanted to cross the distance to Liara and grip her by the shoulders, or at least interrupt the conversation. I warned you that the world you were dealing with was unpleasant. Coburn was greedy and obnoxious, but far from the worst Ilium's corporate world had to offer. People worse than him would make up the bulk of Liara's clients and sources. There was no room for her brand of idealism. It was better that she discovered that sooner rather than later.
Liara looked from Coburn to the datapad and back again. "Commander Shepard killed Dahlia Dantius while attempting to eliminate the slaver organization she ran. Upon her next visit to the Citadel, she received this." Her voice sounded a bit strained, but it was likely to pass unnoticed by anyone who didn't know Liara. She slid the datapad over to Coburn. "Very interesting, wouldn't you say? Especially since Nasanna was one of only a twenty people on the Citadel at the time who could have authorized that."
Coburn read. "Very interesting, indeed. Nothing conclusive. There's no proof the two incidents are connected."
Liara leaned forward and placed her fingers of her left hand on Coburn's arm and took the datapad back with her right. "No, but the possibility of connection could make things very uncomfortable for certain people. I'm sure a man of sufficient intelligence could find a number of uses for this information."
"He could. And what would this hypothetical man have to pay to acquire a copy of this information?"
"No credits, Dr. Coburn. I deal in information. I understand the Dantius Corporation does business with the Palon family. If I were to receive a copy of their genetic data within the next two days, I'm certain an arrangement could be made."
"I believe that may just be possible."
Miranda listened as they hammered out the details and felt a twinge of pride and relief. Liara had done far better than she could have dreamed. Coburn rose from his chair, shook her hand, and left with his bodyguards in tow. Everything had gone off absolutely perfectly. Not so much as a close call. Liara might not have wanted to admit it, but she seemed to have a gift for this sort of thing. Maybe she should take Liara to Eternity and order a bottle of champagne to celebrate. She rose from her table and strolled toward Liara, preparing to offer congratulations on a job well done.
She was halfway there when she realized something was wrong. Liara seemed to deflate before her eyes. She looked tired, even ill. The pallor she'd had when Miranda had first seen her in her office had returned. She trembled slightly. She was watching Miranda with a strange expression. Half exhaustion, half disgust. Liara smiled weakly as Miranda approached. The disgust wasn't directed at her, then. "Hello."
"Hello." Miranda slid into the chair Coburn had occupied. "What's wrong? That went infinitely better than I expected. You did well."
"I don't feel like it. Does no one in Nos Astra think of anything but money and power?"
"Some." She thought of Niket. "Not enough." She wanted to say I told you so, tell her to run back to her dig site and her lecture hall. Remind her that Feron wasn't worth dealing with men like Coburn. Miranda was the one who was supposed to wade around in the muck. Liara's left hand pressed on the surface of the table. Miranda fought the urge to cover it with her own. She had promised herself not to let her emotions run away with her again after the incident in her apartment, but Liara looked so thoroughly miserable that the temptation to comfort her was almost overwhelming. In the end, she compromised. "Want me to buy you a drink? I always have champagne after a successful job. You've earned it."
Liara shook her head ruefully. "Maybe after Coburn does what he has to do. I've never been much for alcohol, I'm afraid. I think what I really need is to get back to work. Are you up to it?"
Miranda didn't need to ask what "it" was. The thought of melding with Liara for a second time was both better and worse. She knew what to expect now and then it probably wouldn't kill her unless something went very wrong. On the other hand, she knew what to expect: surging emotions not her own that Shepard didn't bother to control. Her own mind had been subsumed in Shepard's. She remembered the feel of memory-Liara's lips on hers. Shepard had been ready to rip her clothes off then and there. That Miranda had wanted it too scarcely bore thinking about. It didn't really matter what she wanted, did it? She nodded. "Your apartment isn't far from here. I can be there in ten minutes, if that's all right."
"That's fine, but I never told you where I live."
The edges of Miranda's mouth quirked upward. "I thought you'd have figured it out by now. The first rule of the information business is to always do your research."
She'd known Liara's apartment would be upscale. The building was in a neighborhood only one step down from the mansions that dominated Ilium's higher altitudes. It had been Benezia's before her death, but she seemed to have come to Nos Astra only rarely. The location was perfect for a daughter who wanted to convey wealth and refinement. And luxury. She took the sitting room in a glance. Plush light blue carpeting. Black and white leather upholstery on the couch and Ottoman. A winding marble staircase leading to the upper floor. She liked the smooth, elegant curves of the furniture. It had probably cost a fortune, but the design was understated and classic. Almost like being back in her father's house. Without the part where she almost died. "Nice place," she said and meant it.
Liara was standing beside her and flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you. My mother was responsible for most of this. The only things here that are mine are a few Prothean artifacts. I find it comforting to remember... happier times."
Miranda felt a slight tingling at the base of her skull and stiffened. The greybox was priming memories of a penthouse suite built long ago for the daughter of Earth's richest man. The occupant had hated it for being decorated according to her father's vision of what a well-bred girl should enjoy. Miranda dismissed the promptings with a thought.
Prothean artifacts were on display in a glass case near the stairs. Miranda wrinkled her nose and pointed toward one of them. "What exactly is that?" It looked vaguely like a miniature clay version of the statues found and looted after the rediscovery of Ilos. The mouth-if that black, gaping maw could be called a mouth-stood open in a silent scream. Sightless eyes stared at her. The face was twisted in what appeared to be unimaginable pain.
"That," Liara said slowly, "is Marikar. The closest human equivalent would be Frankenstein's monster or perhaps a very dark take on the Golem of Prague or the story of Tom Thumb. It's your standard 'hubris of mortal man usurping the role of the gods' the story. As best we can tell, this particular myth never spread beyond a few islands of what we think was the Prothean homeworld. The-listen to me rambling on. I must be boring you."
"No." And she wasn't. "You love this. Talking about the Protheans. I can hear it in your voice."
"I did. Do." She cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice was low and rhythmic. A storyteller's voice. "In those days, there lived a sorcerer-king who ruled over half the known world. He was a very wicked man, but also a very clever and diligent man. He had three sons who were as wicked as their father, but they spent their days whoring and gambling and drinking. The sorcerer knew that none of them were fit to rule. So, he decided to create a worthy heir. The secret of creating life was one of many he knew, though no one had ever tried to create a Prothean before."
She gestured toward the clay figurine. "The sorcerer labored for several weeks, sculpting his creation, and spoke to no one about what he was doing. He spoke incantations that ensured the creature would have all the knowledge of mortal men and be stronger and faster than anyone alive. He named the creature Marikar, which means either 'bright one' or 'conqueror', depending on the translation you're using.
"Marikar was eventually completed. The sorcerer said the proper incantation, and the boy set up and began to speak as if he had awoken from a long nap. The sorcerer was delighted. Marikar could discourse upon philosophy, handle a sword and shield better than a veteran soldier, and run faster and farther than any human. The only thing he couldn't do was perform magic. Even the simplest spells were beyond him, much to the sorcerer's frustration. Still, he thought it was a fair trade considering the boy's other gifts.
"Then one day, Marikar got into an argument with the sorcerer's eldest son. The sorcerer had never told his three children what he intended, but they still distrusted the newcomer and antagonized him at every opportunity. Normally, Marikar gave no sign that he had heard, but that day he reached across and snapped the older brother's neck as casually as you would snap a twig. The sorcerer had little love for his son but retained enough decency to be shocked and asked Marikar why he'd done it. 'Father, you did not give me a soul. Is that not reason enough?' He left before the sorcerer could answer.
"The next day, Marikar got into an argument with the second son and again he snapped his neck. The sorcerer asked him why he had done it and he gave the same answer as the day before. On the third day, he fought with the youngest son and killed him, again telling the sorcerer that he had no soul.
"By this time, the sorcerer was terrified. There was no one left for Marikar to kill but him. He did not wish to destroy the creation he had worked so hard on, and if Marikar did not ascend the throne after his death, then he would be forced to leave it to some stranger. So he went to a local priest to see what could be done and told him his story.
"'You idiot!' thundered the priest. 'Don't you know that souls are gifts from the gods alone?'
"'Never mind that. How can the boy reign after me if he kills everything that angers him? I don't care what he does to the people, but his line will die with him. He will snap his son's neck, if he doesn't strangle any wife I find for him first. And he will kill me.'
"The priest laughed. "'You deserve what you get, blasphemer. As for the rest, Marikar has no soul. He is not truly alive. Those who are not alive cannot create life. Your heir is useless to y-'" Liara's voice was suddenly panicked. "Are you all right? You look like you're about to be sick."
Sick. That was one way to put it. Shock, followed by a familiar cold fury, spread through Miranda as Liara spoke. Always the same prejudices. David Ellison had made no secret of his plans to create children who were superior to ordinary humans. He'd been denounced for usurping God, for trying to create a new master race, for not sharing the technology with humanity as a whole. That Miranda's sisters (and, the tabloids whispered, Miranda herself) had proved incurably, violently insane had been seen by some as poetic justice, even divine retribution. She hadn't been a person to them, any more than she had been a person to her father. She was a figure morality tale. And it turned out the aliens told the same tales, even the supposedly majestic and enlightened Protheans. There was a joke in there somewhere.
"I'm fine." She didn't even try to keep the snarl from her voice. "Why is it that when someone does something impressive on their own initiative in these stories, it's always an intrinsic evil? Marikar kills because he lacks a soul, not because his father figure is a madman. Much easier to hate him that way." She crossed her arms. "So what happened to Marikar? Was he torn to pieces? Tossed into a magical prison?"
"He killed the sorcerer and escaped, actually, but not before the sorcerer cursed him to wander the world forever, eternally alone and in pain. Hence the appearance of the statue."
"Ah." Another wandering, homeless wretch without a family worthy of the name. She felt suddenly tired. Liara had no way of knowing how closely the story paralleled Miranda's own life, but it still made her uneasy. Liara was studying her face carefully, as if she were some freshly discovered ruin that might give up its secrets to someone clever and diligent enough to discover them. Miranda let her look. Part of her enjoyed the attention. Liara might be clever enough to discover some of her secrets at that. She had a talent for being able to piece together seemingly random fragments to make a whole. She'd managed to deduce the true fate of the Protheans despite the Reapers best efforts and had caught on to Miranda's plan for getting the Palon family data with astonishing alacrity. Miranda suspected that was one of the reasons her infatuation with Liara had lasted as long as it had. Attractive people were not especially rare in the circles Miranda moved in, and good mostly for the occasional one night stand when she needed to blow off a little steam. Someone who could keep up with her intellectually was to be savored. Liara-beautiful, brilliant, unobtainable Liara-was nearly irresistible.
Miranda exhaled. She liked Liara even beyond the stupid desire to get her into bed. She might tell her something of her life before Cerberus someday, but it would be by her own choice and not because she overreacted to a children's story. And she needed to calm down before the meld. She looked at Liara. Her shoulders were tense and she was surreptitiously biting her bottom lip. She needed to be put at ease too. Miranda had a pretty good idea how to do that. She and Liara had something else in common. She'd dismissed it at the time as a minor coincidence, but it was something they could talk about without invoking any personal demons.
She crossed the room and sank onto the couch. It was surprisingly comfortable. Good. She stretched, draped an arm over the back. Her irritation subsided somewhat. If the mind wasn't quite the plaything of the body, it was close enough. Act calm and you will eventually become calm. Act furious and you will eventually become furious. An asari mercenary hired to train her in covert operations techniques had told her that when she had first come to Thessia years ago. She pretended to check her fingernails. "I'm afraid I was never much interested in Prothean mythology, or ancient history in general. Pre-Spaceflight Cultures sounded like a much more interesting way to fulfill my humanities requirement. If I'd known Dr. T'Kan was going to be such an ideologue, I might have chosen differently."
She watched as Liara made the connection. Liara gaped at her. "You went to the University of Serrice?"
Miranda suppressed a smile. It was always so terribly fun to surprise people. "Class of '70. My degree is in computer science, not archaeology and you were long gone by then." She shook her head. "Tell me one thing: was the food horrible when you were there?"
"Goddess, yes!" Liara sat down beside her. "We always said we would have called it prison food except-"
"-it was an insult to prison food. It wasn't all bad, though. I remember my senior project was designing a very crude AI to make stock picks. We tracked its decisions for six weeks. It beat the average mutual fund return by eight percent. That wasn't the best part. I felt like I was entering a rare and select group. One of the privileged few allowed to create an artificial intelligence." She leaned back. "Hubris on my part, of course, but it was still a damn good AI for a first effort. And Thessia was quite something to a kid who'd never left Earth. Humanity could learn so much from the asari if only we bothered."
There was something tight in Liara's smile now. She fidgeted. "The more I talk to you, the less it sounds like you should be a Cerberus operative."
"Why? Making humanity stronger somehow equates with hating aliens and being smugly superior? Cerberus were the ones who insisted I go to university off-world. I'd barely left my home before then, let alone interacted with other species. For the first time, I had colleagues. Equals. None of them were human. We aren't better than the other species, but I won't let us become dependent on them, either. The turians provide the backbone of the Council fleet. The salarians provide intelligence. Once they stop being so grateful to us, they'll expect us to start upholding their interests again and call it stability. And every single Council race looks for ways to advance its interests. At the expense of the others, if necessary."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're cynical?" There was no malice in Liara's voice, only bemusement and exasperation.
"Of course I am. It's the only way to stay alive in my line of work. Most people will do anything they can to get ahead. Most politicians are exactly like our friend Coburn, only worse." She arched an eyebrow. "How do you think the Shadow Broker has managed to stay in business? Everybody's looking for the chance to stab each other in the back. Someone has to watch out for humanity."
Liara did not speak for a long time. When she did, her voice was grave and seemed to belong to someone much older. "What does setting a thresher maw on human marines have to do with advancing humanity? Or murdering an Alliance admiral? Shepard won't see you as the protectors of humanity. She'll hate you for Akuze. And she'll hate me for handing her over to you."
"Look at me." She cupped Liara's cheek with her left hand and tilted Liara's head so she could look directly at her. Electricity raced upward from her fingertips. "You were nearly raped, nearly killed, I don't know how many times. For Shepard's sake. You put your personal feelings about Cerberus aside. For Shepard's sake. If she hates you for that, she's a fool." Do you have any idea how rare and precious the loyalty and devotion you've shown is? No one will ever do for me what you have done for her. How could she hate you?
"That's very kind of you to say, but you don't know how badly what happened on Akuze scarred her."
"Then show me." The thought was sudden and terrifying, but this was what she had to do, what she had to know if she was ever to understand Shepard. "Show me Akuze."
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
It would've been a nice day under ordinary circumstances. Autumns in Nos Astra were generally mild, especially this early in the morning. Miranda sat at a table in one of the many sidewalk cafés that dotted the trading district. She still wasn't used to the fresh air after months of running around Omega and then being cooped up on Lazarus Station. It was nice to feel the wind in your hair. She nibbled on the roll she'd bought. The food was better, too. None of the MREs or cafeteria food that she'd been subsisting on. It was almost perfect.
Almost. Across the street, Liara sat at an almost identical table in an almost identical café. She was too far away for Miranda to see her expression clearly, but she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. The listening device Miranda had placed underneath the table picked up the sound of rapid, shallow breathing. Miranda smiled grimly. Liara had brought this on herself. Dr. Coburn and his entourage had been due five minutes ago, which meant they wouldn't show up for another ten. Liara, damn her, had insisted on arriving early. She'd learn better in time. If she didn't have a panic attack first.
She removed the datapad Miranda had given her and laid it on the table. The datapad contained a copy of a Serrice Council Trading License issued to one Commander Ruth Shepard. It had also been modified with a microphone to pick up audio from the surrounding area and allow Liara to communicate with her in case of emergency. Any bodyguard worthy of the title would find the bug on the underside of the table, but they would never suspect the datapad of being anything other than ordinary.
Liara gaze darted around the area, as if she were searching for either Coburn, snipers, or both. Miranda had chosen this meeting place partly because would-be assassins wouldn't have a good line of sight to Liara. It was always possible that this meeting was an elaborate ruse and Dantius was using Coburn to draw a potential problem out. Miranda didn't think so, but it was always best to prepare for the worst. She felt the comforting weight of the Karpov beneath her jacket. Any assassins or kidnappers would have to work for their money.
Liara's gaze landed on her. Miranda gave her a curt nod. You'll do fine, kid. Or this is all going to blow up in our faces and you'll be running for your life. One or the other. Liara nodded in return and visibly relaxed. Nothing to do now but wait.
Dr. Coburn arrived ten minutes later, flanked by a pair of asari in dark suits. The one on the left was even younger than Liara, probably no more than seventy or so. She kept tugging at her collar as if she were sweltering in a nonexistent heat. Miranda was familiar with the gesture. The guard was wearing body armor under her clothes and self-conscious about it. She was probably a new recruit Eclipse was testing before giving her any assignments that were actually dangerous. Her partner was a bit older than Liara with deep purple skin. She looked bored. Boredom major sloppy. Neither of them would be a problem if it came to that.
Coburn himself was far more interesting. He was fifty-six but appeared ten years younger. His hair was a shade lighter than Miranda's, but graying at the temple. He was in decent shape for an executive who hadn't actually practiced medicine for at least five years. He'd been the head of Illium Medical Center's neurology department before leaving to become Dantius Enterprises VP of Research and Development. He' been arguing with Dantius ever since the latter had taken the reins of the company. His pet project had been developing a gene therapy program to boost the cognitive ability of vorcha. Dantius had killed the project, claiming that it cost too much for a minimal return. Coburn has been in a rage for weeks afterward. Miranda hoped he still was.
Liara rose to greet him. "Dr. Coburn. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Her voice was soft and honeyed, the perfect gracious host. Almost too perfect. Don't overdo it.
Coburn didn't seem to mind. He gripped Liara's hand in his. "The pleasure is mine, Dr. T'Soni." He enunciated each word with a crispness that spoke of old money and private schools or at least years of elocution lessons. With his free hand, he motioned for the bodyguards to come forward.
They preformed a cursory sweep of the area. The younger one knelt down to search the undersides of the table and chair. She removed the bug Miranda had planted. "Sir! I found something." She seemed inordinately pleased with herself as she held it up for Coburn's inspection.
Liara stiffened almost imperceptibly but said nothing. Coburn took the bug and flipped it over in his hand. He studied it for a long moment before handing it back to the guard. "Nasanna is getting careless. Or she just wants me to know that she's still watching. No matter." He flicked his wrist in a gesture of dismissal. "Thank you, Tarina. I'll let you or Dalaya know if I need anything. Dr. T'Soni and I have business to discuss."
The two asari nodded wordlessly and took seats a few tables away, just inside Liara's field of vision. Several of the other patrons shot them sideways glances and fidgeted. Miranda thinned her lips. Their true role wasn't observation, but intimidation. Remind Liara that she was being watched and keep her off balance. They had the intended effect. Liara paled slightly. Miranda leaned forward in her chair, watching all four of them. If Liara couldn't learn to deal with such ham-fisted tactics, there was no hope for her as an information broker.
But Liara simply smiled and returned to her seat. "Working for an employer who...takes as much interest in her employees as Nasanna does must be very challenging. I can't imagine how you cope."
Miranda let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Good girl.
"Yes, it can be challenging at times to work with someone who lacks the... business acumen I possess. Nassana has been particularly obstinate since returning from the Citadel." He leaned forward in his chair. "Her extreme aversion to risk has resulted in her shutting down any project that she doesn't perceive as immediately profitable, including the intelligent vorcha project I've spent the last sixteen months working on. She claims their utility as slave labour will be completely negated by advancing mech technology but she misses the point. If my project is successful and manages to incorporate the vorcha into the normal economy, can you imagine the size of the consumer base it would create overnight?"
"And you'd be helping them, I suppose."
"That too." He shrugged. "We could receive a badly needed PR boost, though the baseline organic and vorcha rights groups will try to oppose us. We'll win in the end and make a lot of people a lot of money. I might even make CEO sooner rather than later. If I can get this damn project off the ground," he murmured darkly. "I understand you might be able to help with that."
Liara said nothing. Miranda took a long drink of water. She wanted to cross the distance to Liara and grip her by the shoulders, or at least interrupt the conversation. I warned you that the world you were dealing with was unpleasant. Coburn was greedy and obnoxious, but far from the worst Ilium's corporate world had to offer. People worse than him would make up the bulk of Liara's clients and sources. There was no room for her brand of idealism. It was better that she discovered that sooner rather than later.
Liara looked from Coburn to the datapad and back again. "Commander Shepard killed Dahlia Dantius while attempting to eliminate the slaver organization she ran. Upon her next visit to the Citadel, she received this." Her voice sounded a bit strained, but it was likely to pass unnoticed by anyone who didn't know Liara. She slid the datapad over to Coburn. "Very interesting, wouldn't you say? Especially since Nasanna was one of only a twenty people on the Citadel at the time who could have authorized that."
Coburn read. "Very interesting, indeed. Nothing conclusive. There's no proof the two incidents are connected."
Liara leaned forward and placed her fingers of her left hand on Coburn's arm and took the datapad back with her right. "No, but the possibility of connection could make things very uncomfortable for certain people. I'm sure a man of sufficient intelligence could find a number of uses for this information."
"He could. And what would this hypothetical man have to pay to acquire a copy of this information?"
"No credits, Dr. Coburn. I deal in information. I understand the Dantius Corporation does business with the Palon family. If I were to receive a copy of their genetic data within the next two days, I'm certain an arrangement could be made."
"I believe that may just be possible."
Miranda listened as they hammered out the details and felt a twinge of pride and relief. Liara had done far better than she could have dreamed. Coburn rose from his chair, shook her hand, and left with his bodyguards in tow. Everything had gone off absolutely perfectly. Not so much as a close call. Liara might not have wanted to admit it, but she seemed to have a gift for this sort of thing. Maybe she should take Liara to Eternity and order a bottle of champagne to celebrate. She rose from her table and strolled toward Liara, preparing to offer congratulations on a job well done.
She was halfway there when she realized something was wrong. Liara seemed to deflate before her eyes. She looked tired, even ill. The pallor she'd had when Miranda had first seen her in her office had returned. She trembled slightly. She was watching Miranda with a strange expression. Half exhaustion, half disgust. Liara smiled weakly as Miranda approached. The disgust wasn't directed at her, then. "Hello."
"Hello." Miranda slid into the chair Coburn had occupied. "What's wrong? That went infinitely better than I expected. You did well."
"I don't feel like it. Does no one in Nos Astra think of anything but money and power?"
"Some." She thought of Niket. "Not enough." She wanted to say I told you so, tell her to run back to her dig site and her lecture hall. Remind her that Feron wasn't worth dealing with men like Coburn. Miranda was the one who was supposed to wade around in the muck. Liara's left hand pressed on the surface of the table. Miranda fought the urge to cover it with her own. She had promised herself not to let her emotions run away with her again after the incident in her apartment, but Liara looked so thoroughly miserable that the temptation to comfort her was almost overwhelming. In the end, she compromised. "Want me to buy you a drink? I always have champagne after a successful job. You've earned it."
Liara shook her head ruefully. "Maybe after Coburn does what he has to do. I've never been much for alcohol, I'm afraid. I think what I really need is to get back to work. Are you up to it?"
Miranda didn't need to ask what "it" was. The thought of melding with Liara for a second time was both better and worse. She knew what to expect now and then it probably wouldn't kill her unless something went very wrong. On the other hand, she knew what to expect: surging emotions not her own that Shepard didn't bother to control. Her own mind had been subsumed in Shepard's. She remembered the feel of memory-Liara's lips on hers. Shepard had been ready to rip her clothes off then and there. That Miranda had wanted it too scarcely bore thinking about. It didn't really matter what she wanted, did it? She nodded. "Your apartment isn't far from here. I can be there in ten minutes, if that's all right."
"That's fine, but I never told you where I live."
The edges of Miranda's mouth quirked upward. "I thought you'd have figured it out by now. The first rule of the information business is to always do your research."
She'd known Liara's apartment would be upscale. The building was in a neighborhood only one step down from the mansions that dominated Ilium's higher altitudes. It had been Benezia's before her death, but she seemed to have come to Nos Astra only rarely. The location was perfect for a daughter who wanted to convey wealth and refinement. And luxury. She took the sitting room in a glance. Plush light blue carpeting. Black and white leather upholstery on the couch and Ottoman. A winding marble staircase leading to the upper floor. She liked the smooth, elegant curves of the furniture. It had probably cost a fortune, but the design was understated and classic. Almost like being back in her father's house. Without the part where she almost died. "Nice place," she said and meant it.
Liara was standing beside her and flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you. My mother was responsible for most of this. The only things here that are mine are a few Prothean artifacts. I find it comforting to remember... happier times."
Miranda felt a slight tingling at the base of her skull and stiffened. The greybox was priming memories of a penthouse suite built long ago for the daughter of Earth's richest man. The occupant had hated it for being decorated according to her father's vision of what a well-bred girl should enjoy. Miranda dismissed the promptings with a thought.
Prothean artifacts were on display in a glass case near the stairs. Miranda wrinkled her nose and pointed toward one of them. "What exactly is that?" It looked vaguely like a miniature clay version of the statues found and looted after the rediscovery of Ilos. The mouth-if that black, gaping maw could be called a mouth-stood open in a silent scream. Sightless eyes stared at her. The face was twisted in what appeared to be unimaginable pain.
"That," Liara said slowly, "is Marikar. The closest human equivalent would be Frankenstein's monster or perhaps a very dark take on the Golem of Prague or the story of Tom Thumb. It's your standard 'hubris of mortal man usurping the role of the gods' the story. As best we can tell, this particular myth never spread beyond a few islands of what we think was the Prothean homeworld. The-listen to me rambling on. I must be boring you."
"No." And she wasn't. "You love this. Talking about the Protheans. I can hear it in your voice."
"I did. Do." She cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice was low and rhythmic. A storyteller's voice. "In those days, there lived a sorcerer-king who ruled over half the known world. He was a very wicked man, but also a very clever and diligent man. He had three sons who were as wicked as their father, but they spent their days whoring and gambling and drinking. The sorcerer knew that none of them were fit to rule. So, he decided to create a worthy heir. The secret of creating life was one of many he knew, though no one had ever tried to create a Prothean before."
She gestured toward the clay figurine. "The sorcerer labored for several weeks, sculpting his creation, and spoke to no one about what he was doing. He spoke incantations that ensured the creature would have all the knowledge of mortal men and be stronger and faster than anyone alive. He named the creature Marikar, which means either 'bright one' or 'conqueror', depending on the translation you're using.
"Marikar was eventually completed. The sorcerer said the proper incantation, and the boy set up and began to speak as if he had awoken from a long nap. The sorcerer was delighted. Marikar could discourse upon philosophy, handle a sword and shield better than a veteran soldier, and run faster and farther than any human. The only thing he couldn't do was perform magic. Even the simplest spells were beyond him, much to the sorcerer's frustration. Still, he thought it was a fair trade considering the boy's other gifts.
"Then one day, Marikar got into an argument with the sorcerer's eldest son. The sorcerer had never told his three children what he intended, but they still distrusted the newcomer and antagonized him at every opportunity. Normally, Marikar gave no sign that he had heard, but that day he reached across and snapped the older brother's neck as casually as you would snap a twig. The sorcerer had little love for his son but retained enough decency to be shocked and asked Marikar why he'd done it. 'Father, you did not give me a soul. Is that not reason enough?' He left before the sorcerer could answer.
"The next day, Marikar got into an argument with the second son and again he snapped his neck. The sorcerer asked him why he had done it and he gave the same answer as the day before. On the third day, he fought with the youngest son and killed him, again telling the sorcerer that he had no soul.
"By this time, the sorcerer was terrified. There was no one left for Marikar to kill but him. He did not wish to destroy the creation he had worked so hard on, and if Marikar did not ascend the throne after his death, then he would be forced to leave it to some stranger. So he went to a local priest to see what could be done and told him his story.
"'You idiot!' thundered the priest. 'Don't you know that souls are gifts from the gods alone?'
"'Never mind that. How can the boy reign after me if he kills everything that angers him? I don't care what he does to the people, but his line will die with him. He will snap his son's neck, if he doesn't strangle any wife I find for him first. And he will kill me.'
"The priest laughed. "'You deserve what you get, blasphemer. As for the rest, Marikar has no soul. He is not truly alive. Those who are not alive cannot create life. Your heir is useless to y-'" Liara's voice was suddenly panicked. "Are you all right? You look like you're about to be sick."
Sick. That was one way to put it. Shock, followed by a familiar cold fury, spread through Miranda as Liara spoke. Always the same prejudices. David Ellison had made no secret of his plans to create children who were superior to ordinary humans. He'd been denounced for usurping God, for trying to create a new master race, for not sharing the technology with humanity as a whole. That Miranda's sisters (and, the tabloids whispered, Miranda herself) had proved incurably, violently insane had been seen by some as poetic justice, even divine retribution. She hadn't been a person to them, any more than she had been a person to her father. She was a figure morality tale. And it turned out the aliens told the same tales, even the supposedly majestic and enlightened Protheans. There was a joke in there somewhere.
"I'm fine." She didn't even try to keep the snarl from her voice. "Why is it that when someone does something impressive on their own initiative in these stories, it's always an intrinsic evil? Marikar kills because he lacks a soul, not because his father figure is a madman. Much easier to hate him that way." She crossed her arms. "So what happened to Marikar? Was he torn to pieces? Tossed into a magical prison?"
"He killed the sorcerer and escaped, actually, but not before the sorcerer cursed him to wander the world forever, eternally alone and in pain. Hence the appearance of the statue."
"Ah." Another wandering, homeless wretch without a family worthy of the name. She felt suddenly tired. Liara had no way of knowing how closely the story paralleled Miranda's own life, but it still made her uneasy. Liara was studying her face carefully, as if she were some freshly discovered ruin that might give up its secrets to someone clever and diligent enough to discover them. Miranda let her look. Part of her enjoyed the attention. Liara might be clever enough to discover some of her secrets at that. She had a talent for being able to piece together seemingly random fragments to make a whole. She'd managed to deduce the true fate of the Protheans despite the Reapers best efforts and had caught on to Miranda's plan for getting the Palon family data with astonishing alacrity. Miranda suspected that was one of the reasons her infatuation with Liara had lasted as long as it had. Attractive people were not especially rare in the circles Miranda moved in, and good mostly for the occasional one night stand when she needed to blow off a little steam. Someone who could keep up with her intellectually was to be savored. Liara-beautiful, brilliant, unobtainable Liara-was nearly irresistible.
Miranda exhaled. She liked Liara even beyond the stupid desire to get her into bed. She might tell her something of her life before Cerberus someday, but it would be by her own choice and not because she overreacted to a children's story. And she needed to calm down before the meld. She looked at Liara. Her shoulders were tense and she was surreptitiously biting her bottom lip. She needed to be put at ease too. Miranda had a pretty good idea how to do that. She and Liara had something else in common. She'd dismissed it at the time as a minor coincidence, but it was something they could talk about without invoking any personal demons.
She crossed the room and sank onto the couch. It was surprisingly comfortable. Good. She stretched, draped an arm over the back. Her irritation subsided somewhat. If the mind wasn't quite the plaything of the body, it was close enough. Act calm and you will eventually become calm. Act furious and you will eventually become furious. An asari mercenary hired to train her in covert operations techniques had told her that when she had first come to Thessia years ago. She pretended to check her fingernails. "I'm afraid I was never much interested in Prothean mythology, or ancient history in general. Pre-Spaceflight Cultures sounded like a much more interesting way to fulfill my humanities requirement. If I'd known Dr. T'Kan was going to be such an ideologue, I might have chosen differently."
She watched as Liara made the connection. Liara gaped at her. "You went to the University of Serrice?"
Miranda suppressed a smile. It was always so terribly fun to surprise people. "Class of '70. My degree is in computer science, not archaeology and you were long gone by then." She shook her head. "Tell me one thing: was the food horrible when you were there?"
"Goddess, yes!" Liara sat down beside her. "We always said we would have called it prison food except-"
"-it was an insult to prison food. It wasn't all bad, though. I remember my senior project was designing a very crude AI to make stock picks. We tracked its decisions for six weeks. It beat the average mutual fund return by eight percent. That wasn't the best part. I felt like I was entering a rare and select group. One of the privileged few allowed to create an artificial intelligence." She leaned back. "Hubris on my part, of course, but it was still a damn good AI for a first effort. And Thessia was quite something to a kid who'd never left Earth. Humanity could learn so much from the asari if only we bothered."
There was something tight in Liara's smile now. She fidgeted. "The more I talk to you, the less it sounds like you should be a Cerberus operative."
"Why? Making humanity stronger somehow equates with hating aliens and being smugly superior? Cerberus were the ones who insisted I go to university off-world. I'd barely left my home before then, let alone interacted with other species. For the first time, I had colleagues. Equals. None of them were human. We aren't better than the other species, but I won't let us become dependent on them, either. The turians provide the backbone of the Council fleet. The salarians provide intelligence. Once they stop being so grateful to us, they'll expect us to start upholding their interests again and call it stability. And every single Council race looks for ways to advance its interests. At the expense of the others, if necessary."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're cynical?" There was no malice in Liara's voice, only bemusement and exasperation.
"Of course I am. It's the only way to stay alive in my line of work. Most people will do anything they can to get ahead. Most politicians are exactly like our friend Coburn, only worse." She arched an eyebrow. "How do you think the Shadow Broker has managed to stay in business? Everybody's looking for the chance to stab each other in the back. Someone has to watch out for humanity."
Liara did not speak for a long time. When she did, her voice was grave and seemed to belong to someone much older. "What does setting a thresher maw on human marines have to do with advancing humanity? Or murdering an Alliance admiral? Shepard won't see you as the protectors of humanity. She'll hate you for Akuze. And she'll hate me for handing her over to you."
"Look at me." She cupped Liara's cheek with her left hand and tilted Liara's head so she could look directly at her. Electricity raced upward from her fingertips. "You were nearly raped, nearly killed, I don't know how many times. For Shepard's sake. You put your personal feelings about Cerberus aside. For Shepard's sake. If she hates you for that, she's a fool." Do you have any idea how rare and precious the loyalty and devotion you've shown is? No one will ever do for me what you have done for her. How could she hate you?
"That's very kind of you to say, but you don't know how badly what happened on Akuze scarred her."
"Then show me." The thought was sudden and terrifying, but this was what she had to do, what she had to know if she was ever to understand Shepard. "Show me Akuze."