Who Saves the Hero by Kudara

Who Saves the Hero - Chapter 21

Normandy - Captain's Cabin

Shepard glanced up at the viewport above her bed, it was still shuttered. She walked over to the controls and thumbed them, watching as the protective shutter retracted revealing a view of stars and the blackness of space. They had left Illium a little over an hour ago, and were about to pass through the Tasale System relay, the first transit of several in their four day journey to Tuchanka. Shepard hoped that Wrex would know why Grunt was having a problem controlling his more violent impulses, and what they could do for the young krogan. While they were there, Mordin wanted to search for one of his assistants who had gone missing and whom he believed was being held captive.

Yesterday, after returning to the ship from what turned out to be a particularly emotional meeting with Rayne, she had retreated to her cabin to meditate for a few hours to attempt to order her thoughts and calm her still turbulent emotions. Then, feeling rather wrung out from the events of the day, she had gone to bed early and, for a change, had gotten a full night's sleep that was uninterrupted by dreams or anything else. She had awoken early enough to meet up with Samara on the hanger deck and work out for an hour with the justicar. That was developing into a morning routine, and one that she appreciated. It was pleasantly undemanding to exercise with the asari. Samara hardly said more than a few dozen words to her, and yet the silence never became uncomfortable and it never felt as if the justicar would rather be alone. Indeed, from the pleasant greetings she had received thus far, Shepard would say that Samara enjoyed their time together as well.

Given what she had observed about the justicar's behavior with the other members of the crew, Shepard suspected Samara was not in the habit of making friends. Joker had commented that he felt like Samara could shoot him in a very tranquil manner, and Kelly Chambers had made a comment about the justicar being elegant and beautiful, but also very cold in her demeanor. Shepard would have like to have seen the incident that had prompted that comment from the redhead. She could imagine the Yeoman bouncing into the Observation Room thinking she could pry into Samara's psyche only to be completely shut down by the coolly analytical gaze of the justicar.

Shepard understood why they would get those impressions, but that certainly wasn't how Samara was around her. Honestly, she felt rather honored that the asari was making an exception in her case. She had been allowed to meet Samara the person, and not just Samara the Justicar. Perhaps some of it was her own attitude, she had noticed that most asari either reacted to Samara as if she were an almost mystical hero or stared at her as if she were about to start killing at a moment's notice and they just might be on her list. Both reactions didn't give Samara much room to be anything other than a justicar around them even if the asari wanted something different. Shepard didn't treat Samara either way, she treated her like a fellow crewmate, and, as she had realized yesterday, as an equal. And yet she was indisputably the one in command whenever they were on a mission, which simply showed that Samara was capable of keeping their personal relationship separate from their professional one.

She had completed Miranda's exercise program this morning. Starting from where she had left off yesterday, Shepard had been able to curl a few more kilograms. The rest of the workout had gone about the same; she could now lift about double what she had been able to before her death and Shepard knew she hadn't been in top physical condition when she died. Chasing after Saren hadn't given her a lot of time to work out. Though the battles they had fought had been physically demanding, combat didn't equate to keeping up a regular strength training and aerobic exercise regimen. The reality was that she had lost some of her muscle mass before her death and a little more she suspected during the time she was kept in a coma. She was certainly not in the best physical shape she had ever been in currently, which meant that she hadn't yet reached the physical limits of her new body. Several months of dedicated strength training should give her a better idea of what exactly she was capable of lifting.

That realization had strengthened her resolve to discuss the modifications that had been made to her body with Miranda as soon as possible. Amanda finally felt ready to discover what exactly was underneath her skin, and how much of her original body remained. Or, at least she hoped she was ready. She couldn't deny that the thought of it left her feeling a little anxious, but she was tired of running from it. Perhaps the best thing to do was just to get it over with and done instead of letting it continue to hang over her. She headed toward her cabin door, hopefully her XO was free and she could ask her questions and find out if Miranda had finished reading the book she had given her.

"Commander," Miranda's greeting seemed rather lukewarm if not downright chilly to Shepard as she entered her XO's office and took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Shepard kept her gaze steady and unapologetic as she met the other woman's suspicious blue eyes. The rather abrupt change in attitude toward her made two things evident to Shepard: one, Miranda had made it through a certain chapter of the book, and two, she had been right, the Illusive Man had been playing on Miranda's need for an approving father figure. She knew that both were true because of Miranda's reaction. If she had been wrong, there wouldn't have been any connection for Miranda to make between what she was reading and her relationship with her boss and therefore nothing for her to be suspicious and angry about. Well, it wasn't like she hadn't expected this reaction from the other woman when she chosen to give the book to Miranda, thought Shepard. Now she just had to hope that Miranda wasn't feeling any friendlier toward the Illusive Man and hadn't mentioned anything about this to him.

"I completed the workout you sent me," Shepard said, she could see the flash of surprise in Miranda's eyes; that wasn't what the other woman had expected her to say. "I have a few questions if you have the time?"

The black-haired woman leaned back in her chair and stared at her for a few seconds. "I guess you have questions about how you can lift that much?" Miranda finally commented.

Shepard nodded, "Obviously you found a way to strengthen the muscles, but I would think that I should still be feeling some strain on my joints. Since I am not, I'm assuming that means you did something to strengthen them as well."

Miranda nodded, "And to your tendons and bones," she added. "It became obvious, once we started using bio-synthetic microfiber weave to strengthen and protect your muscles, that we needed to strengthen your entire muscle-skeletal structure as well. Otherwise, as you already realized, you would be placing too much stress on your tendons, bones and joints."

"Bio-synthetic microfiber weave?" Shepard inquired with a confused frown, it didn't sound at all familiar.

"It's a new technology developed by Sirta Foundation," Miranda responded. Her expression turned somber, "I think you've already guessed that your body was heavily damaged during atmospheric entry and planetfall on Alchera." Shepard nodded, she had indeed guessed as much. "Your Onyx armor did a good job of protecting your body," Miranda said, "but it was never designed to withstand that type of impact pressure. Besides shattering several of the bones in your body, your muscles were deeply bruised and damaged as well, especially along your right side which apparently bore the brunt of the impact damage."

"We had to use bio-synthetic tissue to replace and rebuild the muscles and connecting tendons where they were too badly damaged to heal properly," Miranda continued. "Since we already had to examine each of your muscles for damage, we decided to perforate them with the microfiber weave while we were at it. As you noticed it's made you quite a bit stronger and your muscles are also more resistant to injury."

Shepard absorbed that, it was more than a little strange to think about them going over her body for damage like she went over her armor after every engagement. In a way though, it did make sense. "And my joints? Why don't they hurt when I curl a nineteen kilogram weight?"

"As I mentioned, several of the bones in your body were shattered." Miranda hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Many of them to the point that they could not be put back together as the fragments were too small and the bone cells too badly damaged. We created bio-synthetic replacements for the bones we needed to replace, and then we wove heavy bone weave into both them and the bones we were able to repair. The heavy bone weave is a strengthening and protective lattice weave wrapped around the bone that also acts as a conduit for med-gel. Breaks that might have taken weeks for you to heal will now heal in days. While we were at it, we also designed and replaced most of your joints. Your elbow and knee joints were badly damaged and would have always given you problems if we hadn't replaced them. Your right shoulder was completely shattered past any hope of recovery, and your left, while still basically in one piece, also needed replacing. It was the same with your hip joints."

Ok, so far this wasn't really so bad, as Miranda had mentioned, she had already known that her body had been badly damaged when it impacted with the planet's surface. "Sirta Foundation again?" she asked curious about the weave the other woman had mentioned.

"For the heavy bone weave?" Miranda questioned and Shepard nodded. "Yes, that was made by Sirta Foundation as well. They've made some interesting advancements in cybernetics over the past few years. Most of them aren't even out on the market yet. In fact, another one of their prototypes is woven into your skin, heavy lattice weave." The black haired woman eyed her, "I know you found some of my logs about the state your body was in when we received it."

"Yes I did," Shepard acknowledged, as unpleasant as they had been to hear she didn't regret deciding to listen to them.

Miranda nodded and then continued, "Due to heat damage upon entry into Alchera's atmosphere, and then cold damage due to the sub-zero temperatures on the planet's surface, we had to replace all of your skin. Since we were growing it anyway, it was fairly simple to incorporate the synthetic fibers. The lattice weave strengthens your skin, making it more durable and resistant to cutting and impact damage. It also acts as a medi-gel conduit for both your skin and the musculature directly underneath."

Shepard couldn't help but glance down at her hands and her spacer pale, olive toned skin; she would have never guessed that her skin had synthetic fibers woven into it. You certainly couldn't tell just from looking. No wonder she wasn't getting as bruised up as she used too. Or rather she was still getting injured; it was just that her minor injuries were being healed almost as quickly as they happened and therefore never had the chance to bruise. That explained why after every mission she had to replace at least one or two of the medi-gel packets in her armor even when she didn't realize she had been injured and she couldn't find any significant damage to her armor. Shepard liked the armor improvements that had been made over the past two years. It made a lot of sense to her for the onboard first aid interface in the armor to apply medi-gel when it detected the wearer was injured, instead of counting on the injured person to be able to do it themselves or for a teammate to be close enough. Everyone still carried extra dispenser packets for direct application in case of major trauma injuries, but mostly their armor, provided it was one of the newer middle to upper end models, automatically applied medi-gel as needed now.

"Along with the skin, muscle and bone damage, there was of course damage to your circulatory system as well," Miranda's voice drew Shepard's attention back to her XO. "As with your muscles and bones, we used bio-synthetics to replace the damaged blood vessels and arteries that were too severely injured for us to repair." Shepard glanced down at her right arm, it was sounding like they had to pretty much replace it. "Yes," Miranda said, obviously having noticed where her attention had gone, "We had to completely rebuild your right arm and shoulder. As I said, you must have impacted upon your right side; that arm and shoulder were severely damaged."

Shepard almost asked how damaged was very severely damaged, but something told her that might be something which she really didn't need to know. Ignorance wasn't necessarily bliss, but sometimes neither was the alternative. Sometimes too much knowledge was just that...too much knowledge. Did she really need a better idea of exactly how damaged her body had been when what she already knew was enough to unsettle her?

"You already know that we had to completely reconstruct your face, that included jaw and dental reconstruction, nose reconstruction, and reconstructing your eyes with cybernetic replacements," Miranda stated, and Shepard refocused her attention back on her XO. "What you might not have noticed, is that we had to reconstruct both eardrums and some of your inner ear on each side as well which has restored your ability to hear higher frequencies and the slight hearing loss you suffered after Elysium. While we were reconstructing your face, we also reinforced your entire skull both with bio-synthetic plating and heavy bone weave. Your spinal column has also been reinforced, jointed titanium plates lined with a layer of impact absorbing foam as well as heavy bone weave cover each vertebra, protecting your spinal column from both impact and compression damage as well as providing rapid healing if they are injured."

Hmm, that was probably why, when Grunt threw her against the wall the day she opened his tank, it hadn't hurt as much as it should have, Shepard realized.

"You already know about the blood scrubbers," Miranda continued her briefing, "Otherwise you wouldn't have survived that batarian bartender trying to poison you on Omega." Shepard grimaced at the reminder that had not been a pleasant experience. It had taken place during the time that her nightmares about Mindoir were at their worst and she had been damn tempted to make the batarian drink his own poisonous concoction. Fortunately... well, maybe not fortunately for the batarian, but fortunately for her... a turian who had overheard her angry confrontation with the bartender had shot the bastard, removing the temptation for her to do something less than civilized to him.

"Originally they were meant to help compensate for the fact that you no longer have a spleen," Miranda's voice brought her back to the present. "It ruptured, probably upon impact. We replaced it with the standard blood reserve injection pump that activates if your blood pressure drops suddenly." The black haired woman raised an eyebrow at her, "By the way, the blood scrubbers we used in you are not standard. They are prototypes designed to neutralize most known poisons and toxins. Regular blood scrubbers might not have saved your life, so I'm glad I used the prototype ones."

Shepard's lips twitched, "And here I thought you were just trying to ruin my one of my favorite things to do on shore leave."

Miranda smirked at her, "Going to a bar and drinking? No, not intentionally. I'm afraid you'll just have to live with enjoying the taste and not the effects," she advised.

Shepard thought the black haired woman didn't appear very apologetic at all. "That's part of the point you know," she complained.

"I do understand that," Miranda admitted. "However, given that you've already been poisoned once and then repeatedly exposed to toxic gas during one of your excursions, I'm glad I used them. And they're staying in," she added sternly.

Shepard raised an eyebrow at the response, from the way the other woman was acting you would think she was purposefully trying to get herself into these situations. "I wasn't saying they should come out," she responded mildly, "I just wish they were a little less enthusiastic about scrubbing any alcohol out of my system."

Miranda actually appeared to be giving it some consideration. Then she frowned and shook her head, "Sorry Commander, not without impairing their general functioning."

Shepard sighed, "Ah well." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms casually across her chest. There was one thing that Miranda hadn't touched on yet. "What about my reflexes?" She knew she wasn't just imagining that she seemed quicker to react than she had before her death.

"That was unexpected," Miranda admitted after a moment, "because we hadn't done anything to specifically improve your reflexes." Shepard frowned, confused, but before she could interrupt with a question, the other woman continued. "However, after a little research, I believe I have an explanation for it. The delay between a physical stimulus and our reaction to it has many causes; the actual time for the nerve impulse to reach the brain is very short, and about the same for every race. Your general level of physical conditioning and the ability to be physically ready for action and yet keep your muscles relaxed is another factor." Miranda waved one hand in her direction, "I suspect you were very good at that before your death and that it hasn't changed."

"The greatest difference, however," the other woman continued her explanation, "and the greatest source of delay in reaction speed, is actually in the brain. The rapidity with which it processes the information and initiates your reaction, and that's where I think the answer lies. Your increased reflexes seem to be an unexpected side effect from the drell neurochemicals. The increase in long term potentiation and your eidetic memory seem to have combined and given you the ability to make those decisions noticeably faster than before. It's also probably the reason the drell have a reputation for being extremely quick and agile as well."

That hadn't been quite the answer Shepard expected. "So my brain is able to process the information faster?" She asked after a few seconds, trying to make sure she understood what the black-haired woman had just told her.

Miranda nodded, "Faster, and you now have an enhanced spacial recall due to your eidetic memory. I imagine that remembering where everything and everyone is in your immediate area helps you quite a bit when it comes to deciding what to do next during combat."

That actually made a lot of sense, and it was true she did have a better sense of her surroundings now because of her memory. At any time she could close her eyes and know where everything was that she had seen. "So, is there anything else I should know about?"

Miranda nodded, "There are other cybernetic systems throughout your body, mostly compensating for any lost organ functionality, which was minor by the way, and helping to support the health of your organs." The black haired woman made a gesture with her hand as if she was tossing something down on her desk, "And that's it unless you want more detailed information about something."

"No that's fine," Shepard responded after a moment, "Thank you for the explanation." After spending so much time purposefully avoiding learning this information, Shepard felt a bit bemused and embarrassed by the fact that finding out exactly what had been done to her wasn't really proving to be much of a traumatic experience. Maybe it was just the fact that she had almost three months now to get used to the idea, and that none of what she had just learned really came as a surprise to her. True, she hadn't known exactly what had been done to get her back on her feet, but she had correctly guessed the basic outlines of it. That took a lot of the shock value out of learning the specifics. She uncrossed her arm and prepared to leave so that Miranda could get back to doing whatever it was the woman had been doing before she came in and interrupted her.

"Why did you give me that book?" the black haired woman asked before Shepard could get up from the chair.

An answer, besides the obvious one that she was trying to win Miranda's loyalty away from the Illusive Man, came to mind in a flash of memory.

She sees the silhouette of a woman seated in a dark limousine. A very fit and tanned young man gets out of the driver's seat and comes around to open her door, his manner respectful. He is dressed in dark slacks and a form fitting white shirt. The silver and onyx choker around his neck gleams faintly from the light of the streetlamp. His outfit is tasteful and clearly meant to show off his muscular build. The dark haired woman allows him to help her out of the car, taking his hand as if he is being honored by her acceptance. She is wearing a calf length leather coat that hides whatever is underneath. Only her black leather stiletto boots are visible. Her movements as she swings her legs over and places her stiletto boot shod feet on the pavement and then rise are graceful and elegant. She stands there in the darkness, pale skin, long dark hair, skillfully applied makeup that accentuates her cheekbones and dark eyes. She is poised, regal...sensual, and yet with an unmistakable aura of command. It is an unusual combination.

Amanda's gaze had been drawn to the car, the young man and the woman exiting it as soon as he opened car door. She tried to deconstruct what she was seeing as she had been taught. Tried to discern the different pieces that made up the whole, but besides the obvious elements of the woman's movement, stance and dress, it eluded her. It was something more than the way the woman was standing, or what she was wearing, or her expression, or the way she held herself, though they were all a part of it. Perhaps feeling the weight of her curious stare the woman's head turned her way, their gazes met. Wary awareness and powerful attraction shot though Amanda, causing the skin on her arms to tingle, her mouth to dry, and her stomach to tighten. The immediate attraction was more intense and purely visceral than she had ever felt before from a mere glance shared with another. It was disconcerting, and she was very aware that she was trading stares with a very powerful and sensual woman.

Shepard broke herself out of the memory with a slight shake of her head. Miranda was staring at her, waiting for an answer with a slightly puzzled expression. She met the other woman's gaze evenly, "Because to command others you must first understand and command yourself. When you do let others command you, it must be because it is your conscious choice and not because you've let yourself be manipulated into the situation either by someone or by events."

Really, Shepard silently rebuked herself; she should make a point of remembering those words of wisdom from Leonora more often. Especially since she had recently been questioning exactly how much loyalty she owed either the Alliance or the Council. She had agreed to become a Spectre, but she knew the process had been rushed first by the death of Nihlus and then secondly by the necessity of stopping Saren. She had let herself be placed in a situation where she had two separate chains of command each trying to give her orders. Unsurprisingly, that had turned out to be a no win scenario for her, and she should have addressed it as soon as she recognized what was happening, but she hadn't. Instead she had let events control her, thinking she could resolve the issue later. Then she had died.

"You learned that in the Academy?" Miranda stated, obviously expecting that her answer would be a yes.

Should she or should she not? In this case, telling the truth would probably deliver its own reward, Miranda's reaction to it. Shepard doubted even Cerberus' poking into the details of her life had uncovered this part of her past. She had taken great pains to keep this part of her life hidden, knowing it would jeopardize her career given the conservative nature of some of her commanders and the general difficulty all males had with separating the idea of a woman being sensual and a woman commanding them, and because it was truly none of their business. Now it was just a part of her past, and she had all but made up her mind to leave the Alliance anyway. "No, from a Dominatrix I met during a summer break while I was still in the Academy." The stunned and slightly shocked expression on the other woman's face after her statement registered was hilarious, and Shepard just had to chuckle.

Miranda's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You're joking."

Shepard smirked, and shook her head, "No, I'm not."

"How?" the black haired woman looked and sounded flabbergasted by the surprise revelation.

Shepard couldn't help but chuckle at her once again, "You know, I was young and twenty at one point in my life." She reminded the other woman.

Miranda gave her a look, "And you're so much older now."

Shepard sighed, her mood immediately weighted down once again, "Some days I feel it, finding out about the Reapers changed me. It's hard to think of club hopping and doing things on dares just because it might lead to something interesting."

Miranda's expression turned grim, "True," she agreed. After several seconds, her expression lightened and she eyed the Commander speculatively, "So you were club hopping during summer break and went into an S&M club on a dare?"

Shepard gave her a wry smile, "That's fairly close to what actually happened. We had a few weeks off during summer break. A few friends and I went into New York City to go club hopping. They were trying to decide what bar to go to next when this black limousine pulled up nearby and this woman got out of it. I didn't even realize that she was a Dominatrix at the time. I was just trying to figure out how she was managing to project such an air of both sensuality and command so strongly. My friends noticed me eyeing her and dared me to go up and talk to her."

"And you did," Miranda stated, looking fascinated with the tale.

"I did," Shepard confirmed. "I politely introduced myself and asked her how she managed to project such a command presence. I think my friends didn't really expect me to do it."

Miranda inquired, "And that was her answer?"

"No, she didn't answer my question then," Shepard shook her head. "She studied me for a few seconds, and then asked if I were military. I informed her I was off for the summer out of the Academy and after a few more questions about what I had observed she invited me into the club with her if I really wanted to learn."

"You learned how to be a Dominatrix?" Miranda asked in disbelief, her blue eyes wide in astonishment.

Shepard laughed. "I wouldn't say that," she demurred, "but I did learn quite a few things. It was a fascinating experience, and she was right I did learn a lot from her about the nature of command. That it's essential to be in command of yourself before you try and command others, and that you must prove yourself worthy and deserving of your followers' trust in you with your every action. That when you're asking them to trust you with their lives, they have the right to know that you won't abuse that trust and that you value them."

Miranda just stared at her searchingly for a few seconds, finally the black haired woman shook her head, "And to think I thought I knew everything about you."

Shepard had to smile at that. "It's impossible to know everything about someone, people will surprise you."

"Is that another pearl of wisdom from her?" Miranda asked with a raised brow.

Shepard shook her head, "No, that's something I've noticed on my own." Hopefully the Illusive Man was making the same mistake, thinking that he could look at her actions and know who she was and what she was thinking. What was it Thane had said? Ah yes, the measure of an individual can be difficult to tell from actions alone. How very true.

"That true I guess," Miranda commented, her expression thoughtful as she stared at the Commander. "I'm not quite through with that book you recommended, but I'm close. Did you have other recommendations?"

"Next would be the classics, Sun-Tuz's The Art of War," Shepard noticed Miranda smiling at that choice, "and Hersey and Blanchard's Situational Leadership."

"I've read The Art of War," Miranda commented, "but not the other."

"It's a few hundred years old, but it's still useful information," Shepard explained. "It emphasizes that there is no one best leadership style, instead effective leadership varies based on the individual and task in question. The end goal of Hersey's leadership theory is to develop high levels of competence, commitment, and self-motivation in your subordinates."

"So more practical theory rather than philosophy," Miranda questioned.

Shepard nodded, "Yes, and still as useful and relevant as when it was written, which is why it's still on the Academy reading list." The two of them stared at each other for a moment, the Spectre really had nothing else she wanted to say and from her XO's continuing silence it was evident that Miranda didn't either. "Well, if you have any questions about what you're reading let me know."

Blue eyes narrowed on her for a moment, a look Shepard bore patiently, knowing that Miranda was trying to figure out just where they stood with one another now and what she was trying to accomplish with this. The black-haired woman stared at her, her eyes hardening and Shepard could only guess that the other woman had remembered why she wasn't happy with the Commander right now, "And would you give me a completely honest answer if I did?"

"That would depend on whether I thought such honesty would set you back in your progress toward being a competent leader or not," Shepard replied with the honesty Miranda had asked for, even though she knew it would simply exacerbate the issue.

Miranda looked dumbfounded by her answer for a second or two, and then her eyes narrowed in anger. Her nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath to grit out, "Why are you doing this?"

"So that you have the knowledge and understanding you need to make a choice about the direction your life will go from here. And when you do make it, it will be with your eyes wide open and of your own free will without anyone manipulating you into it," Shepard stated calmly.

"You don't call what you're doing manipulation?" Miranda's voice actually rose a bit towards the end of her question.

"You can always choose to not read anything I suggest you read," Shepard offered. "Choose to let things remain as they are; keep the status quo." Shepard knew full well that Miranda Lawson would not be happy with the current status quo, not now that her eyes had been opened to the similarities in how the Illusive Man was treating her and how her father had treated her.

"Right," the single word carried a wealth of angry bitterness.

Shepard inclined her head, acknowledging Miranda's right to her less than charitable feelings toward her for making her aware of what was going on. As she had mused to herself earlier, knowledge was often not particularly blissful. "As I said earlier, to command others you must first understand and command yourself. You can't do that when you're unaware of how you are letting other's command you."

Miranda's hands resting on top of her desk clenched and she glared at Shepard, but conspicuously she didn't deny that the Illusive Man was manipulating her. "You're never going to willingly work for Cerberus are you?"

The question came out of nowhere, surprising Shepard. Though perhaps it wasn't out of nowhere she realized after a second and was a continuation of their discussion a few days ago. Just as quickly, Shepard decided it didn't really matter whether this was a part of their earlier discussion or not, to answer or not to answer, to tell the truth or to lie, were the choices facing her now. To respond truthfully or to remain silent were essentially the same answer for she knew how Miranda would take her silence. Lying wasn't really an option for several reasons, not in the least of which was that Shepard doubted the black-haired woman would actually believe her if she did try to claim she would work for Cerberus. Perhaps then it would be best for her to take this opportunity to explain why she wouldn't work for them. It might even help her gain some ground with the other woman; at the very least she might plant some well needed seeds of doubt. She just hoped that Miranda kept her own office free of recording devices. Decision made, Shepard finally spoke up, "No, I believe that whatever the Illusive Man's plans, they jeopardize our chances of uniting the galaxy to fight against the Reapers and will get us all killed."

"The Council and the Alliance aren't doing anything, only Cerberus is, why can't you see that?" Miranda both sounded and looked frustrated with her.

Shepard leaned forward, placing her hands on Miranda's desk, "Do you really think the Illusive Man doesn't possess enough information to persuade the Council that the Reapers actually exist?" She couldn't quite keep the note of scorn out of her tone as her own temper heated up. "Less than half of Sovereign's wreckage was accounted for by official salvage crews. You don't think that Cerberus ended up with some of the over half that went missing?" Shepard found it quite telling that the Cerberus operative went still and just for a split second her gaze flickered uneasily away before returning. Miranda frowned at her, and Shepard frowned back at the other woman, her expression turning stern. "The Reapers are too serious a threat to play who gets to come out on top at the end game with, Miranda," she said, her tone grim. "Our goal right now should be survival, nothing more and nothing less, because the Reapers are deadly serious about killing every last one of us. Annihilation. Extinction. Genocide. Use what word you will for being wiped out to the last man, woman, and child, but the Reapers mean to do just that to us." Miranda stared at her, her expression showing her consternation at what Shepard had just said.

The Illusive Man and Miranda claimed to know about the Reapers, but did they really understand the extent of the threat they faced in the sentient machines? Shepard well knew the difference between knowing something in your mind and knowing something in your heart and gut. After having the beacon message burned into her mind, after speaking to Sovereign, she knew the threat in her mind, heart and gut. Shepard's will hardened; perhaps Miranda needed a taste of that knowledge as well.

She stared the black-haired woman seated on the other side of the desk from her directly in the eyes, her face set into a hard, chiseled expression, and her light grey eyes narrowed. "A little over 50,000 years ago the Prothean Empire spanned the entire galaxy, and then as now, the seat of their government was at the Citadel. One Reaper left behind from the last cycle of extinction sent a signal to the Citadel causing the keepers to activate the dormant relay to dark space. Hundreds of Reaper ships began pouring through the Citadel Relay, they wiped out the Prothean fleet stationed there, locked down the entire mass relay system so that only they could use the relays, and killed everyone on the Citadel. The Reapers searched through the records and census data stored at the Citadel and learned about every prothean world. Where they were located, how many protheans lived on each of them, what were their defensive and offensive capabilities."

"Then, armed with that knowledge, the Reaper fleet began going world by world. Their fleets darkened the skies, and clouds of seekers came out of them. On some worlds, they captured the protheans and indoctrinated them, and then sent as refugees to other prothean worlds. Once taken in the indoctrinated sabotaged their defenses and betrayed their own people to the Reapers. On other worlds the seeker swarms didn't paralyze, instead they ripped the protheans apart, killing absolutely everyone. The Reapers continued this for almost three hundred years, methodically eradicating the prothean race from the galaxy and wiping out all traces of their civilization except for the ruins we see today. And then they left back though the Citadel relay, back into dark space to hibernate and wait for another cycle, leaving their indoctrinated slaves behind to die from starvation and exposure because they were no longer able to even care for themselves." Shepard noted that Miranda looked more than a little disturbed at her little history lesson, but it wasn't over yet.

"Only the Reapers didn't know about Ilos and the dozen researchers that still survived there. Those last remaining protheans sacrificed their lives so that Sovereign couldn't just send a signal to the Citadel and begin the next cycle of extinction. They made it so that Sovereign had to physically interface with the station to open the relay to dark space. They're the only reason the invasion didn't just begin without us having any advance warning, and even with that, Sovereign almost succeeded. If I had been another ten or fifteen minutes in making it to the tower, Saren and Sovereign would have activated the relay." Shepard paused for a moment, let that sink in. She knew it had from the way Miranda paled. "Right now the prothean's fate would be ours. Every solar system cut off from all the others, every world waiting in terror for their executioners to come for them."

Shepard let that statement hang in the air for a moment before continuing, "Harbinger is out there right now trying to find a way to open the Citadel Relay, never sleeping, never tiring in its search. It's one and only goal to find a way to get the fleet of Reaper ships from dark space into this galaxy and kill us. And the Illusive Man and Cerberus are pissing around playing fucking King of the Mountain instead of making sure we have the best possible chance of surviving." Keeping from raising her voice was not easy, but Shepard did it because she didn't want EDI noticing this conversation.

Miranda flushed, reddish color crawling up her cheeks as she scowled, "We are not as you say, pissing around playing King of the Mountain." Shepard had to admire how the black-haired woman could sound hoity-toity and offended as she strived to keep her voice down as well. Obviously, neither one of them wanted this argument interrupted. "We brought you back to stop the Collectors, and to stop the Reapers."

Shepard shook her head in disbelief that the other woman had even said that, "I'm good, but I'm not that good. We need to unite the races; we need to start researching and building better ship weapons and armor. Every Council and Alliance ship should have the same armor, weapons and shielding as the Normandy or better, because we have to defeat hundreds of ships just like Sovereign. Right now if Harbinger were to find a way to open the Citadel relay we would have no chance of going up against the Reapers and winning. Are you really one hundred percent certain that the Illusive Man isn't using this situation to further humanity at the expense of everyone else and at the expense of our safety? That he doesn't have hard proof that the Reapers exist which he's keeping from the Alliance and the Council? "

She went on before Miranda could come up with any rebuttal. "The Illusive Man claims he's willing to do everything necessary to win, but I believe that's a lie. I believe that he's willing to risk everything in his bid to make sure humanity comes out on top at the end. But in doing so now, against the Reapers..." Shepard shook her head, her mouth curving downward in disapproval, her expression one of contempt, "he's risking humanity's very existence, your existence, Oriana's existence and the existence of every other space faring race. The lives of billions. And for what? How exactly is humanity being so mistreated by the other races that it's worth risking our very existence and their very existence because of it?" She questioned the other woman, belatedly aware that sometime during her carefully modulated, but passionate speech, she had risen out of her chair and was now leaning across her XO's desk.

Miranda stared up at her, she rose from her own chair and leaned forward until their faces were only feet apart, her expression set in angry lines, "The Illusive Man wouldn't risk humanity's existence." She exclaimed, keeping her voice low but no less vehement for the lack of volume.

"Are you completely sure of that?" Shepard immediately shot back, "Because I'm not, I think he's got his own agenda that he's willing to risk anything, to do anything, to achieve."

Shepard saw the hesitation, the momentary flicker of uncertainty in the other woman's' blue eyes. It was time to throw down her last card in this hand, time to drive home to the heart what they were fighting for and against. "Nothing is more important to me than stopping the Reapers. I live with images in my mind of the protheans holding onto their loved ones in desperation. Their heads lifted to the sky asking their Creators why this was happening to them; begging for deliverance, begging for mercy for themselves and their wives and husbands and children. Mercy and deliverance which never came, and they faltered and despaired that their Creators existed, or if they did, that they cared about their mortal children." The images, the feelings of utter despair flowing though her mind, Shepard's voice did falter then. Her own belief was strong, but she understood only too well why they had fallen into despair and doubt.

Tearing her mind away from those images, she refocused on the woman now staring at her in dismay? astonishment? It was hard to tell, but seemed to be both. Maybe this had been the wrong thing to do, maybe Miranda now thought she was just as unhinged as most of the Council. Still, maybe it wasn't that, she could only hope that the other woman was still listening and wasn't discounting what she was trying to tell her. Shepard's gaze dropped to the desk between them, at their hands flat upon it, each on either side, separated by a few feet of space. Somehow she had to bridge the gap between them, make the other woman understand. She lifted her head, raising her eyes to meet Miranda's gaze once again. "I live with the knowledge of how it feels to know that your entire race has been wiped out of existence. I live with that despair and anguish and grief haunting my dreams and living in the back of my mind...always. The beacon message constantly beats out its grim warning of exactly what is at stake here whenever my thoughts turn toward it."

"The beacon message wasn't just information; it was a recording of an actual prothean's thoughts," there was startled realization in the other woman's tone. A crease between her dark brows betrayed her disturbed thoughts and there was an expression of concern upon her face.

Shepard nodded; whoever had recorded that message had let their emotions seep into it despite the strong prothean cultural prohibition against doing that, and she suspected it was because their emotions had simply been too strong for them to block out. The emotion in the message wasn't at the forefront, but a constant quiet wail of pain and despair that lay underneath, and which was all the more haunting and heartbreaking for it. "I will not let what happened to the Protheans happen again, not this time. Not to any of us." Shepard could feel the tension of the muscles in her jaw, heard in her own hard voice her determination and conviction.

Miranda's eyes widened and the other woman straightened, creating more space between them. "I understand Commander," there was respect in her tone. Maybe she hadn't royally screwed this up after all, the thought passed fleetingly though Shepard's mind. "But Cerberus is not standing in your way; the Illusive Man understands what's at stake, give him a chance to prove it to you."

"I'll be honest with you, given what I've seen of Cerberus in the past, he's got an uphill battle to even prove to me that he actually has humanity's best interest in mind. Akuze, Chasca, Listening Posts Theta and Alpha, Admiral Kahoku, Jack... as near as I can tell Cerberus is just as dangerous to humans as any pirate or slave raider group." Shepard held up a hand to forestall the protest she could see Miranda was ready to make, "I know you're going to say rogue project, but there's a hell of a lot of projects that he has to keep claiming are going rogue. At some point it either points to a consistent pattern of failure on his part or a consistent pattern of Cerberus projects that he would have rather no one found out about. I know which of the two I believe right now."

"He resurrected you; he's doing what's necessary to stop the Collectors," Miranda defended, "What more proof do you need?"

"Him offering solid proof I can present to the Council to make them believe that the Reapers exist and are a threat. Until he shows me he's willing to do what it takes to get the other races onboard to fight the Reapers, there's nothing you can say to make me believe that he understands how deadly serious the situation we're facing is." Shepard couldn't think of a simpler way to state her requirement.

Miranda stared at her, her expression turning somber. She sat back down in her chair. "You never lose sight of what we're really fighting do you?"

Shepard followed suit, sitting down as well. "No," she replied, "this is only the second battle of what are likely to be many. The Reapers won't quit trying until we've destroyed them all or they've destroyed us." Both of them were silent for a moment, and then Shepard asked, "So what are you going to tell the Illusive Man about our discussion?"

Miranda studied her for several seconds, her expression still somber. Finally she responded, "What you told me, that from the information in the beacon message you believe we will be facing hundreds of Reaper ships at a minimum. Your tactical appraisal is that we will need a unified response from both humanity and the other Council races to have any hope of defeating them. And that that includes upgrading all ships at a minimum to Normandy standards, as well as researching further weapons, armor and shielding technologies to give us more of an edge against them as well as building up a larger fleet. I will tell him that you are fully committed to doing whatever it takes to stop the Reapers. As for your lack of trust in him, he already knows about that and expected it."

Shepard nodded; she found what Miranda was choosing to tell and to not tell her boss, very interesting. "By the way, I'd appreciate it if you kept what I told you earlier to yourself. I told you about the Dominatrix I met, not Kelly and definitely not the Illusive Man."

Again Miranda stared at her for a few seconds, then she nodded, "It's an intriguing piece of information, but we already knew you were a gifted leader. We just didn't know about the variety of your teachers," the black-haired woman commented dryly causing Shepard to smile in amusement. "You don't trust Kelly Chambers do you?"

Shepard shook her head, "Not really, she didn't impress me when we first spoke and she's not done anything to change my initial impression of her."

The black-haired woman steepled her fingers together and then carefully questioned, "May I ask what she did?"

Shepard's eyebrow rose, and she smirked, "Told me that she knew when she first saw me that she could close her eyes, fall back and know I'd be there."

Miranda winced and sighed, "Alright, I understand perfectly Commander." For the first time, the two of them shared a glance of complete accord.

Shepard rose, "Well, I'm going to go talk to Thane about controlling my memories. See if he has any suggestions about how to make sure they don't pop up at the least appropriate moments."

"That sounds like a good idea, he is a drell," Miranda commented after her surprise passed.

"My thoughts exactly," agreed Shepard rising from the chair, "have a good rest of the afternoon Miranda."

"You too Commander," the black-haired woman responded.

Shepard exited her XO's office, and breathed a sigh of relief. That had went much better than she could have expected, and she seemed to have parted on a warmer note with her XO than the chilly reception with which she had been greeted. That was definitely a positive. Also, she now knew that Miranda did actually trust her; otherwise the woman wouldn't have been so open about her emotions and doubts with her in there.

She proceeded around the walkway, glancing over toward the mess area on her left as she walked past and taking an exploratory sniff of the air. Whatever Rupert was preparing for dinner tonight smelled delicious and spicy... Chinese? It did have that type of aroma to it. Of course for all she knew, it could be another asari or drell recipe that he had adapted. That might be amusing, the last one of those she had caught Samara giving the dish an odd look as if the justicar couldn't quite decide whether she approved of Rupert's alterations or not. Shepard had thought it tasted quite good, but she could understand the asari's reaction. From the name of the dish, Samara had probably been expecting a familiar taste and had gotten something rather different.

She passed around behind the elevator and paused outside of the Life Support entryway. She knew she really should have visited Thane before this, especially after the unprofessional behavior during the drell's in briefing by Mr. Taylor. It still amazed her that the man hadn't expected the reprimand and discussion that followed as soon as Thane Krios had left the Briefing room. She was a patient woman in most circumstances, but she was tired of Taylor creating friction and distrust between himself and any recruit of which he didn't personally approve. If he had issues with the Illusive Man's choices, he could take them up with the Cerberus leader himself, but he had no business airing them in front of the person in question. Shepard found it especially disappointing given that he had asked her to overlook his own involvement with Cerberus and give him a chance to prove his trustworthiness instead of judging him solely by his current association with them. Pointing that out to him had been the one thing that seemed to have finally gotten through to him, and Taylor had finally agreed that he should extend the same courtesy to Mr. Krios.

She reached out, pressed the entry lock, opening the door and entered, looking around the area curiously. A desk and a single bed had been fitted into the space. Thane was seated at the desk staring out the plexiglass window over the drive core. He didn't move or even acknowledge her presence as she entered. Shepard walked closer, wondering what about the drive core held his attention so fixedly. It wasn't the drive core; she noted his clasped hands as she came up to the desk, he was praying, as he had over Nassana Dantius' body. She softly cleared her throat, hoping he wouldn't consider her intrusion and interruption of his prayers rude.

That caused him to stir, "Shepard, do you need something?" he inquired. His voice was intriguing, deep and with a rumbling tonal quality she couldn't quite describe. It was definitely unique.

"Sorry I haven't stopped by sooner," she apologized, "I wanted to see how you were doing, and if you needed anything else to make this space livable."

"No, what I have is quite sufficient," he turned slightly toward her. "Your Kelly Chambers has been very helpful."

She bit back the dry 'I bet,' comment she wanted to make, undoubtedly she'd get to hear about how attractive Kelly found Thane the next time she crossed paths with her Yeoman. "That's good," she replied instead. "Do you have time for us to talk now?" she still wasn't sure if she had interrupted his prayers or meditation, or whatever it was he had been doing when she entered.

"Certainly, we haven't had a chance since I joined," the drell responded.

Shepard wanted to ask him why he was dying, but how exactly should she bring the subject up. Suddenly she was getting a very good idea of why no one seemed to be too eager to discuss her death with her. She closed her eyes for a second, a faintly bitter smile hovering on her lips. One thing she didn't like was someone who danced around the subject with her. She looked over at Thane, "On Illium, you told me you were dying."

"Yes, I thought you'd want to know more," he said quietly. "I have what is called Kepral's Syndrome."

Shepard listened as the drell explained, his race had developed on an arid world, but the hanar home world, Kahje, was very humid. Drell lungs, adapted for a dry hot environment did not deal well with the humidity, eventually losing their ability to take in oxygen. Eventually he would suffocate, his lungs unable to take in enough oxygen even though he was surrounded by plenty of breathable air. The dark irony of it didn't escape her; Thane would suffer the same death as she, though under vastly different circumstances.

"They can't do anything about it?" she asked quietly.

"The hanar have funded a genetic engineering program. They should be able to adapt us. The project has only been running for a few years. I don't believe my body will still draw breath by the time it bears fruit," he calmly stated.

"How long do you have?" Should he even be on this mission, Shepard wondered.

"I should be fine for another eight to twelve months," he responded. "The more time I spend in humid environments, the faster it progresses. I think it's safe to say that by the time my body is incapacitated we will either be victorious, or dead. Either way I won't be a burden to you."

"That wasn't my concern," Shepard responded with a frown, staring at his back. "Is this area dry enough for you?"

Now he did turn toward her, "Yes, the air quality is dry enough not to worsen my condition."

Shepard stared at him, wondering how to broach the other subject she had come here to talk with him about other than his illness and sufficiency of his living conditions. "Good," she responded absently.

He turned far enough toward her that she could finally see both of his inky dark eyes. They stared at one another. "There was something else Commander?"

She sucked in a deep breath, fortifying herself for the upcoming conversation. "Yes there was actually. I thought maybe you could help me with something." He merely continued watching her. "Two years ago a Collector ship destroyed the original Normandy. I was spaced, and the breathing apparatus of my hardsuit was damaged by some debris from the ship." From the way the drell's body stiffened, she knew she didn't really need to say anything else. "Cerberus managed to acquire my body and began the process of rebuilding and repairing the damage to it. It took them several months, and in the meantime they needed a way to maintain my neural pathways, so they flooded my neural tissues with synthetic drell neurochemicals." That produced some rapid blinking from him in reaction, though he didn't interrupt her. "It's permanently altered my memories of events prior to my death, and affected the formation of my memories afterward."

It took him but a moment to understand, "You now possess an eidetic memory."

Shepard nodded, "My memories are very vivid, sometimes I get caught up in them when I didn't mean to and definitely don't want to," she admitted.

"Ah," it was a sound with a wealth of understanding behind it. He settled back in his chair, still watching her thoughtfully, "you want to know how I control when the memories take me over."

That was a very good description of what happened, Shepard mused. "I've been trying to concentrate only on the here and now when I'm on a mission. That seems to help, but when I'm not focused on it..."

Thane nodded, "Sometimes you cannot control them, something will trigger one and it will take you over." Shepard didn't bother to hide her grimace at that; she had been hoping Thane would know a way to prevent that from ever happening again. "I understand that was not what you wanted to hear," Thane said, seeing her expression, "but it is better to face the reality of the possibility than for it to surprise you one day."

She reached up and rubbed her face, "No, that's already happened once. If Garrus hadn't moved so fast to knock me down I'd have been dead...again," she added, with a wryly grim twist of her lips.

The drell blinked once in reaction to her comment, the thick outer lids of his liquid dark eyes shuttering them and then opening, and then he nodded. "I find that meditation and putting into perspective those of your memories which trouble you the most to be of assistance," he advised. "Otherwise it is more likely they will trouble you at a time of their own choosing."

More meditation, wonderful, at this rate she was going to be spending a few hours a day at it. "Alright," Shepard agreed with a small sigh of resignation.

Thane was quiet for a moment and then he offered, "If you feel yourself beginning to get caught up in a memory and do not wish to, focus on something in your environment, then switch focus randomly until the memory is no longer as strong within your mind."

She already did something like that, by focusing on something or someone in her vicinity, but she hadn't tried switching her focus randomly. It sounded as if that would work better. "I'll try that, thanks."

"I have never heard of a human with an eidetic memory before," the drell commented to her.

"It happens naturally in a few humans, but it's extremely rare and often associated with a specific type of autism." Shepard had looked all this up after learning what had happened to her memories. "Also, I've never heard of them having problems with triggering events. That's usually part of another issue in humans called flashbacks, related to post traumatic stress disorder." Her memories of her mother's death could almost be called flashbacks, but she had thankfully never quite had such a severe issue with them. Probably in thanks to the psychological counseling her grandmother had insisted upon her getting as soon as she arrived from Mindoir.

Thane clasped his hands together in front of him, "These flashbacks are considered a psychological disorder in humans?"

Shepard nodded, "Yes, usually associated with a traumatic event or series of them." She hesitated for a moment and then volunteered, "I have noticed that the memories that I've had problems with are ones that have strong emotional content or associations, but they aren't necessarily traumatic."

Thane nodded, "Yes, that is true for me as well. The more emotional the memory the stronger it is, which is why I suggested meditating on those memories to decrease the chance of their being triggered by an external stimulus." He fell silent, his countenance thoughtful. After a moment he said, "Many drell consider our memories a gift and enjoy remembering events in our lives."

If only so many of her memories weren't tied in her mind to traumatic events, that would be more easily true for her as well Shepard reflected. However, thoughts about her parents usually led to remembering their deaths, and thoughts of Liara to their breakup. There were memories not related to either Mindoir or Liara that she wouldn't mind reliving a second time, Shepard determinedly reminded herself. There had been plenty of happy moments in her life both before and after the batarian raid. Memories of her time with Mistress Leonora would certainly be both useful and very pleasant to recall, Shepard reminded herself thinking of the woman she had mentioned to Miranda. Well...most of them were pleasant, she amended that thought, but all of them had definitely been learning experiences. Also there was yesterday and the rachni Queen's messages, just allowing her thoughts to briefly touch upon her memory of the message from the Queen which Rayna had passed onto her during their meld both warmed and comforted Shepard. That was definitely a memory she would cherish. She looked over at the drell, "I can understand that," she replied. "I'm adapting to the change. It's just very different from how my memories were before."

Thane bowed his head over his clasped hands and was silent for several seconds. Finally he said, "I find it difficult to imagine such a drastic change to my mind. One's thoughts define who one is. Do you find that you feel disconnected from who you were before because of this?" he questioned curiously.

Shepard had to smile a little at his question; she had gone over this very question in her own mind so many times. "Yes and no, I still have all of my memories. I still feel and believe about things and in things, as I did before my death. I know I am still Amanda Shepard. But you are correct; there is a definite perception change because of the difference in my memories. There is a disconnect as you say between before and now, but honestly it's just one of many." He nodded at her answer. She waited a second, wondering if he had any more questions, but he remained silent. Getting the feeling that it might be time to bring the conversation to a close and leave him to his meditations, Shepard said, "Thank you for your suggestions, Thane."

"I hope I have helped," the drell replied, "I will consider what else I know that might assist your adaptation to your memories."

"I'd appreciate that," she responded. She waited for a second longer to see if he had anything else he wanted to bring up. When he remained silent, she turned and walked back to the room's entrance and exited. Shepard looked over toward her right, at the door to the Starboard Observation room where Samara was undoubtedly meditating. Right now, talking to the asari seemed like a much better idea than returning to her room to begin a solitary meditation.

"Shepard," Samara greeted her as soon as the door closed behind her and she took a few steps into the room.

Curious, Shepard questioned, "How do you know..." she stopped as she realized she knew the answer. "My aura."

"Yes," she could hear the amusement in the asari's tone as the biotic field around the justicar brightened briefly and then faded away. Samara lowered her arms, and turned her head slightly so that she could see the human out of the corner of her eye.

Shepard walked over to stand in front of the observation window, staring out at the stars for a second before turning to face the asari. "Mind if I join you for a while?"

"Not at all," with a graceful gesture, the justicar motioned for her to take a seat on the floor nearby.

Thanks," Shepard said as she lowered herself to the floor. She slipped off her shoes, set them beside her and folded her legs into a lotus posture, matching the asari's. "I was talking to Thane," Shepard said to the asari, "He had some suggestions on how to control my memories." Pale blue eyes focused on her in interest, and she began retelling what Thane had told her. Shepard had thought Samara would be interested in this given the asari's concern a few days ago about her getting caught up in her memories.

Ten minutes later both human and asari were meditating. Shepard found the slight sound of Samara's biotics as the asari resumed her own meditations reassuring. She knew that if she got caught up in a memory, the asari would help bring her out of it. She trusted Samara.

Not that trusting someone was unusual for Shepard, because it wasn't; it was the depth of trust that was unusual given how recently she and the justicar had met. She trusted Samara with the secrets of her mind to help her search for the prothean memories locked away, and with the secret of the rachni. She trusted the asari with her back in a fight; the justicar's biotics and combat ability were both formidable. In the past few days, Samara had shown with her actions and her words as well as each additional sensitive issue she was entrusted with keeping, that Shepard's trust in her was well placed. 'Value the justicar,' Detective Anaya had advised her...she did.

Continued...