Hello, Time Bomb

Prologue

One

I believe there is a saying amongst you humans: "Even a broken clock is correct two times a day."

Her squad always stopped talking when she entered the room. She never understood that. She wasn't the kind of officer to buddy up to her men. She didn't play cards or share stories. But she wasn't about to put them on latrine duty for breathing too loudly in her presence.

That was irrelevant now. The message had come in overnight. She was to be reassigned after what was to be their last strike, a surgically precise removal of a slaving operation in the Skyllian Verge. They'd taken the news with the expected lack of fanfare.

"Who's your replacement going to be?" Long had asked.

"I don't know."

Being transferred out of black ops meant she would probably never see these men again. They'd been together two years. They were good, they'd do fine under any half competent officer. Maybe their next one would be more in line with their tastes.

She owned three personal items. Packet of hair ties, stronger than standard issue, to avoid her hair worrying the back of her neck. Leggings, poly-cotton blend, black, slight wear on the inner seams, for crawl space infiltration when she couldn't afford a buckle or button striking metal and giving away her position. Pistol, Hangman 1, one standard mod, one illegal, sentimental value.

It didn't take her long to pack.

The Normandy was waiting.

Two

Our orders were clear: make Commander Shepard who she was before the explosion—the same mind, the same morals, the same personality. If we alter her personality in any way, if she's somehow not the woman she used to be, the Lazarus Project will have failed.

Outside the station was a star collapsing, casting the Illusive Man's face brilliant in lights of blue and red. Smoke curled upward from a cigarette nestled between two fingers. His stare was piercing, implants glowing behind his irises. His face impassive, there was nothing that could disturb him.

Miranda had known the man for years and she couldn't remember him ever having so much as a hair out of place. War, terrorism, infiltration, nothing flustered him. Two years ago one of his top scientists had been taken alive by the Alliance military, a man that could implicate them in Akuze. The Illusive Man hadn't even smoked an extra cigarette. Not a week into his incarceration the scientist had been found in his cell, hanged with his own bed sheets.

Today was different. Miranda didn't frighten easily. She knew she was a resource, and a valuable one. She was in little personal danger. But her personal safety was insignificant compared to the enormity of the news she had to bring. This was about their future as a species. That shadow over their future frightened her.

The Lazarus Research Station was gone. Wilson was a traitor. Her entire team had been wiped out. None of that mattered.

"Project Lazarus has failed."

Three

Only the foolish mourn the loss of innocence. It is inevitable. The galaxy has never rewarded the naive.

"I ask for a Reaper expert and you bring me a Cerberus cyborg?" Udina blustered, gesticulating wildly as he paced his office. "Just tell me you're not thinking of instating that thing as if it were human. Bad enough that you gave it a gun, for God's sake."

Anderson leaned against the balcony, looking out into the Presidium. Udina loved to act as if he were the only one with a problem. The cyborg in question was inscrutable, its face still covered. It sat in one of the chairs against the wall, both hands wrapped around a beat-up pistol, seemingly oblivious to the conversation.

"I'm no happier about this than you are, Udina, but if the public knew that Commander Shepard is dead, the blow to morale could be catastrophic. If we publicly admit that we don't have her, the Reapers have already won."

Udina scowled. "So what do you propose?"

"She's more a diplomat than you or I have ever been. Her name carries weight. As long as this thing can walk and talk like her, it might just be enough to get the support we need."

The councillor appraised the thing that wore Shepard's face, fingers of one hand resting on his chin. Anderson never thought he'd sink this low, but Shepard had spear-headed the Alliance's anti-Reaper movement. Without her it fell to him to rally the galaxy, and he couldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of galactic safety.

Udina met Anderson's eyes. It was one of those rare moments where both men thought the exact same thing: this was disgusting, but it was necessary. Anderson grimaced. Ivy Shepard – the real Ivy Shepard – would be honoured when this war was over. Until then, this would have to stand.

"We'll do what we must." Udina stalked back to his desk and absorbed himself in a datapad, as if pretending none of this had happened. "Get that thing out of my office."