Listen to my story. This... may be our last chance.

The Resurrection Effect

Prologue

"What's on the schedule today?" I ask, leaning against the railing next to Lazarus Project's leader.

"Confirmation that the treatment we tried yesterday was a success," Miranda replies distractedly, staring intently down at Shepard's body.

"So nothing physical. Nothing mental. Nothing that you specifically need me for," I probe. I'm the vice-head of the medical team, under Wilson. If there's a one-man job to be done, he's the one doing it. I don't like it. Not to mention it's boring.

"No," Miranda answers, still distracted. "The last three treatments should have worked. Why didn't they?" She straightens and turns abruptly, heading down to the operating room. "Coming?"

"And go through decontamination for fifteen minutes? No thanks," I rebut. Miranda is a certified genius and paranoid to boot. Together, they create perfectionism so complete that even the slightest chance of failure is intolerable. Hence, fifteen minute decontamination routines before you're even allowed to enter the room with Shepard's corpse in it. Just to watch, it's not worth it. There's a subtle stirring in my chest at the sight of the fallen Queen-commander. I wince. Commander. Not queen. Not royalty, majesty, authority, law, justice- stop. Just a human. Just a woman. As imperfect and fallible as the rest of us.

Funny thing is it's only around her that the Rachni is silent. Most of the time.

"Your readings are off," Miranda accuses Wilson. He's already down there, adjusting the precision settings on one of the robotic surgical machines.

A machine chimes, interrupting his vehement defence.

"What was that?" Miranda shoots the question at the medical head who shrugs, leaning in to the console to get a better look.

"It looks like she's reacting to outside stimuli…" He postulates. "Taking in light from her surroundings. She's showing an awareness of the world around her. My God, Miranda. I think she's waking up!"

The woman on the table stirs and my heart accelerates to a million miles an hour. No, it's not time yet. She's not ready! She'll die if she wakes up now! Miranda takes a big step forward, peering intently as Shepard's head turns to the side, just a little. Her mouth creases into a flat line. "She's not ready. Give her the sedative. Now."

The commander's hand rises from the steel table where it has rested for over eighteen months unmoving. Miranda takes the hand, lays it back down, speaking directly to the woman. "Shepard. Don't try to move. Everything's alright. Just lie still. Stay calm." The Cerberus operative's eyes meet mine for a second, worry written clearly across them. If I were there, I might have been able to calm her down. But I'd never make it in time.

"Her heart rate is climbing fast," Wilson cautions. "Brain activity climbing. Not good. It's not working!"

Shepard's head continues to move, shaking from side to side with increasing speed. She's really waking up. Miranda shoves Wilson aside roughly, giving orders as she moves. "Another dose. Now."

The effect is immediate. Shepard's eyes waver, eyelids closing once more. Her head slips down, lying flat on the table. "Heart rate dropping," Wilson confirms. "Stats falling back towards normal. That was close. We almost lost her."

Miranda leans over the commander, making sure she's under once again. "I told you your readings were off. Do the tests again. Properly this time."

My own heart thunders in my chest. I remember who the mole was in Project Lazarus. Hell, I'd been hoping that with all I'd achieved in the last two years there wouldn't be a mole in Project Lazarus. Seems I was wrong.

I wake up in my quarters, a few weeks later. As one of the medical heads of the Lazarus Project, I rate my own room. Just like every other morning I wake up with a ritual. This time I need it more than usual.

My name is Tobias Parker. I am twenty-four years old, born in Melbourne, Australia, Earth. I'm a biotic. I helped Commander Shepard stop Saren. On Noveria I was injured, saved from death by the last Rachni Queen at the cost of an as-of-yet unidentified form of hybridization. I worked with Liara and Feron to take back Shepard's body after the Normandy was destroyed by Collectors.

I did all this because this is not my first life. I lived before, died before I came into this life. I know parts of the future because I played them in a game in my previous life. I am an existence called an 'Anomaly'. I will stop the Collectors. I will stop the Reapers. That is the only purpose this life of mine has.

I splash some water against my face, looking into the mirror. The same slight, wiry frame stares back despite some part of me thinking I'm going to wake up with antennae. It's just a nightmare, I know that. My inner Rachni hasn't troubled me much since the Deathsinger went quiet, but I still have dreams. Worse than usual, since Shepard almost died again. Much worse.

I lean heavily on the sink, panting, spitting thick saliva from my mouth. It's just a nightmare. But my pupils are still dilated, my fingers still trembling. So much for my rational side. But no, it's not black eyes that stare back. My eyes are blue. It's not a bald, crimson chitin under brown hair. Under the close-cut beard is just skin and bone, not fangs and toxin.

My bare chest is- well. Let's just say the nightmares aren't completely unfounded.

I banish it from my mind, turning away from the mirror. Nothing I can do but endure.

Over the years I've adjusted to the point where Cerberus clothes have become the norm. They might technically be a human-supremacist terrorist organization with less moral boundaries than the Hegemony, but they make good quality uniforms. Silver linings and all.

Cerberus was nice enough to give me a private line outside the base too; or they would be if they knew about it. There are advantages to working with one of Illium's best information dealers and hackers.

Liara's scarred face fills my vidscreen, backdrop portraying a lively commercial plaza despite the setting sun. Illium is one of those places that never sleeps. Two years on, she still hasn't gotten the thin, lightning-esque scars from Saren's Warp removed, traces of them visible rising up her neck to the crown of her head. They're some kind of grisly trophy, I guess.

"Parker," Liara greets pleasantly, if not happily. The scarred Asari has been through a lot since the Normandy went down; I wouldn't have blamed her if she hated me as well. In the dying moments of the mission to reclaim Shepard's body, Liara had been gravely wounded by Feron's suicide bombing. The blast had compromised her body, rendering her unable to use biotics for the rest of her life. Every second of every day she lives in agony because of that moment. She turned all that fury and anger at the Shadow Broker and the Collectors, but I couldn't help feeling guilty. If I hadn't asked her to help, she wouldn't be a biotic cripple.

"Liara," I return. "How's business?"

"Well, thank you." No specifics, as usual. "Did you call just to exchange pleasantries?"

"Would it be so bad if I did?" My partner shoots me a flat look. "Fine, fine. I was hoping you might have more on Wilson. It's got to be any day now."

The Asari all but groans. "I've told you. If I find anything, I'll send it to you securely. I know you don't want to kill him or stop him, you know what he's going to do. Why do you need anything else?" I start to interrupt, but the information dealer speaks over me before I can get the words out. "I know. You've told me. You don't want to shut him down and risk him coming up with something you don't know anything about. I get it."

"But I-"

Liara shuts me up with a cold stare. "Parker. You work for me, correct?"

My jaw shuts so fast I hear a click. "Yes." I also work for Cerberus, the Alliance, maybe the Council, an odd job for Aria every now and then. Huh. I'm quite the mercenary these days. I never realised.

"Then you will do as I say. Monitor Wilson. Stop any attempt he makes at a power play. Gather information. Protect Commander Shepard above all else. Is that understood?"

"Understood," I reply sharply. Then my voice softens. "Sorry, Liara."

She sighs, the stern attitude evaporating. "I know. I'm sorry too. It's been a long, unpleasant day. I've had the Asari councillor breathing down my neck trying to find out what's going on. Your boss doesn't suspect anything yet, at least. Then there's the Shadow Hand, the STG, even Aria is starting to test the boundaries. Not to mention the others like you."

The mention of the other Anomalies of the galaxy always makes me tense. I've met a few in my time: the Asari and Turian, I think I've met the Salarian as well. Some I could tolerate. The others… not so much.

"I still feel like I'm not doing much as your Head of Operations," I refute.

"You might be my second in command but you're also a unique asset," Liara counters. "I need you where you are. I doubt I will ever have another prescient agent."

I groan. Not this again. "Goodbye, Liara."

Liara snuffs a chuckle. "Goodbye, Shinga. Good hunting."

Months pass. Miranda keeps a close watch on Wilson, not giving him the opportunity to mess up. If she suspects anything about him, she keeps it to herself. "Denied," Miranda answers curtly. "Again."

"Think about it," I say, powerwalking to keep up, shoving a datapad in her face. "The Collectors are running rampant over the Terminus System colonies; they've been pushing into the Traverse with increasing frequency. We're losing people left right and centre. It's been two years since anyone did some damage to them. We need her back as soon as possible. Now."

She knocks my arm away, never stopping. "I've read your report. The Illusive Man has read your report. We're in agreement. Even if Shepard could survive reanimation at the moment- which we don't know she can- it's better to wait until she's back at full strength."

"Her body is recovered. She has a heartbeat. She is functionally alive. How long until they go after a big colony, one of the mid-rim worlds? So far we've been losing tens of thousands of colonists per raid. If they escalate even one step we'll be losing hundreds of thousands, maybe millions in one shot. The Alliance isn't doing a thing. Isn't Cerberus supposed to protect humanity? Not stand by and watch as the galactic bogeyman swoops in and-"

Miranda slams her hand against the corridor wall, effectively cutting me off. "I know. We know. We all know. You are not 'special' to consider this. We considered it long before your report ever touched my desk. We studied the possibility long before you ever did. We even calculated the probability that her mind would respond more ably to an injured body than a healthy one. We will not take chances with Commander Shepard. Not even one hundredth of a percent."

I know enough about Miri to know that I'm not going to win this one. When she gets serious like that no amount of pestering will budge her. She storms off, walking at a pace most people would almost consider a run. Damn enhancements. I have to bend the fabric of reality to move that quickly without running. I sigh and lower my head, still following.

She's not going to like Wilson's attempt to kill us all. By now Liara's pretty deep in the Broker's old files; she's confirmed that Wilson was a Broker asset. Still, better to let him try and fail than set up a whole new attack that I don't have pre-memory of. Post memory. Whatever.

Project Lazarus is now just over two years old. Just over two years since we managed to reclaim Shepard's body from a coalition of Collectors and Shadow Broker wetwork agents, two years and one month since Saren's failed attack on the Citadel, since the obliteration of Tayseri Ward. Two years and one month since almost half the citadel's population died from vacuum exposure.

It was a hard lesson. The battle cost the lives of the Turian and Asari councillors as well as the Destiny Ascension. Most of the Citadel Defense Fleet was destroyed and the Alliance fleets that responded to the distress call were badly mauled as well.

But most importantly, two years since Lazarus began means that Shepard is about to wake up.

Miranda takes her allotment of food from the canteen, deliberately sits at a table with one chair. Undeterred, I move a chair from another table and sit opposite her. "But you admit that it could happen," I try.

Miranda ignores me in favour of a can of juice. I wait for her to finish. "Theoretically," she concedes grudgingly. "Theoretically, yes. She could be fine. That's not reason enough to test it."

A flicker of light captures my attention and Miranda frowns. "What?" she asks as I peer past her.

"Nothing," I answer. Nothing looks out of place, but I'm sure I saw something. "Thought I saw something." Then the answer hits me like a speeding semi between the eyes and my barrier folds around me like a warm, green blanket. "Get down!"

Bullets ricochet from my defensive biotic field as I throw myself between Miranda and her assailants, a microsecond before Miranda's own cerulean barrier forms around her. The two LOKI mechs continue firing, little automatic handguns blazing through magazines. Shit, now of all times?

I flip the table over, hiding behind it. It won't stop bullets but it'll hide us from view and LOKI mechs are dumb as rocks. It should buy us a few seconds. Miranda and I alone, separated from everyone else, cut off. Now is the perfect time for Wilson's betrayal.

And I walked into it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"You alright?" I ask Miranda. The table is a tight fit for two, but we can manage. She has her own SMG out, expression confused but angry. She nods.

"Good," I comment, rising out from cover. Time to stretch some muscles. It's about twenty metres from here to the door where the two mechs are shooting. Green biotics flare, lowering my mass to almost nothing. I cover twenty metres in less than one-point-five seconds, slamming a fist encased in biotic energy into the robot's face. The mech's head flies clear of its body and the unit shudders, half-collapsing. I leap again, reduced mass taking me halfway across the room where I cling barehanded to the wall, two feet off the ground. The remaining mech struggles to track my speed, unable to get off another shot before the headless machine explodes in a shower of shrapnel, cutting its brother down.

All in all, the exchange lasted about four seconds.

Miranda pops out of cover, gun raised, trigger half pulled. Seeing only the smoking wreckage of a pair of security mechs, she frowns. "What was that?"

I shrug. "Lower mass means less force required to move. If you're careful you can keep your muscle mass up, your body mass low and move pretty damn fast."

"Not that," Miranda rolls her eyes. "The mechs. What's going on?" She raises her omnitool, speaking into it. "Prodigal to security. Prodigal to security. We just got attacked by mechs in the cafeteria. What's going on?"

Nothing but static. "Signal jamming." Miranda curses. "I can't even get a readout on the station from here. We need a communication terminal. This is just like that incident last year…"

Yes, the great 2184 incident. The moment that someone infiltrated the station, disabled all the security systems, turned on the sprinklers and stole Shepard's spare-organ clone. I really wish I'd been on-station at the time because that's going to come back to bite us all in the ass in a year or so.

"This can't be a localised incident like last year," I comment, knowing full well it isn't. "We have to consider the whole station a combat zone." Explosions sound in the distance, a faint scream echoing through the station. Wailing sirens flicker on, emergency red lighting pulsing from the walls and ceiling. Yeah, definitely a combat zone.

"Let's go," Miranda shouts over the noise, talking as she moves. I step in front of her, leading her.

"Let's be clear. You haven't shot at a real enemy in two years; I've been doing ops in the field when I wasn't needed here. So in combat I'm calling the shots."

Lawson hesitates, but nods. "Fine. But our first priority is Shepard."

"Damn straight," I mutter. "Like hell I'm letting some asshole kill her now after we brought her back from the grave."

Shepard's surgical room is in the middle of the station, not close to us at all. Another reason for Wilson to make his move now.

"Who's on guard shift at the med bay?" I ask. Miranda replies after only a second's contemplation.

"Finnegan." At least that's something. Finnegan's a good marine, if not the most imaginative soldier. Best of all, he's level-headed enough to keep Shepard alive. Hopefully.

"Security hub is closer than the medbay and goes past a comm terminal," I point out. "We might be able to stop all of this before it gets too out of hand." Not to mention the security hub was where I worked Liara's program into the security system. Even if Wilson's shut down the whole network, I can get in and shut the whole system down. No mechs, no problems.

"Maybe," she says, ducking behind a corner as a squad of four LOKIs turn a corner, almost running into us.

"Enemies located," the first LOKI reports in its dull monotone, weapon raised. Damn.

"At least we didn't shell out the extra credits for individual shielding!" I call, throwing a curving ball of biotic force. The throw knocks down the first mech, stumbling and impeding the one behind him. Miranda blasts the leader of the second column with an overload, following the tech attack with a trio of gunfire. I keep unleashing throws, slamming the two mechs into walls and ceilings, shaking their targeting processors and incapacitating them. Miranda blows the arm off one of her mechs, leaving it weaponless. It turns tail to run, only to be gunned down from behind.

"How many security mechs are on the station again?" I ask warily. A group of five, six, even eight we can probably blow through without too much trouble. After that, things get a bit trickier.

Miranda's frown tells me all I need to know. "Seventy five LOKI mechs at last inventory. Make it ninety if our mystery hacker manages to get the damaged mechs in maintenance active. A two dozen FENRIS mechs and a squad of ten YMIR heavy combat platforms."

"Compared to how many Cerberus troops on-station?"

"Twenty five. Six of them biotics. The medical staff has some combat training, but even then our numbers only make thirty five including eight biotics. Counting ourselves."

Thirty five people against around one hundred and twenty five machines. Fantastic.

"We're almost at the comm terminal," Miranda notes and I refocus. LOKI mechs might only be really dangerous in large numbers, but all it takes is one to get lucky.

I poke my head gingerly around the corner. My barrier can take a lot of hits from a LOKI's gun, but the idea of sticking my head into a wave of bullets still isn't appealing. The terminal is guarded by just over two squads of mechs, ten in total. Four FENRIS mechs keep watch with them, twitching from side to side. I relay the information to Miranda and she bites her lip. There's no cover between us and them and the only gun we have between us is Miranda's Shuriken SMG.

Time to show off a bit, I guess. Hell, sitting around doing medical things gets boring pretty quickly and I've been training like hell for two years. I toss a verdant orb of green energy into the middle of the mechanical formation, blossoming into a small but effective singularity. Not as good as Liara might manage, but not half bad for only a few months practice. Six mechs are swept up into the gravatic hole, flailing helplessly. The four FENRIS mechs charge at us instantly, displaying either suicidal overconfidence or reckless bravery. Or really bad threat-analysis software. Potentially all three.

Miranda drops the first FENRIS with an overload before her biotic aura deepens. I grab her hand, directing the Warp away from my singularity and into the snout of one of the charging dog mechs. "Biotic detonation would wreck the terminal," I call, raising my voice over the sound of battle. She grimaces and nods, blazing away at the freewheeling droids with her SMG. The first FENRIS reaches me and lunges, electroshock plating ready to taser me into submission. Unfortunately for it, I'm prepared.

I punt the dog-bot in the face. Normally, FENRIS mechs are designed to take a heavy beating and still fight back. On the other hand, my foot hits with the approximate kinetic energy of a Black Widow rifle and my barrier easily absorbs the electric retaliation. The robot flies back away from me with considerable force, striking an unencumbered LOKI mech in the shins. The bipedal mech goes down like a sack of bricks, struggling to right itself with crushed leg plating.

The second dog robot keeps charging, only to be met by my left boot. At this point, I'm starting to think bad coding.

With the terminal thus cleared, Miranda opens a direct line. As part of her paranoia she'd insisted that there be literal wired communication lines dotting the facility. It's old tech, but it's impossible to shut down without physically cutting the lines. Given the security measures in those shafts, anything going in the vents won't be getting out in one piece. While Miranda logged in, I pull up a schematic of the station itself on my omnitool. If Lazarus Station is running out of air or falling into a sun, I want to know.

"I've got Shepard," Lawson calls, steadying herself as a chain of explosions rip through the station. I have to anchor myself to the floor with biotic force to stop myself from falling over. Fuck, that was a big one. An explosion on a space station isn't like a blast on a planet; everything is so tightly packed and organized in space that no matter the size of the blast it's almost sure to take out something critical.

"I've got a station schematic online. Checking for damage," I report.

"Wake up, commander. This is Miranda Lawson. Do you hear me?" Miranda enunciates, forcing herself to be heard over the wailing klaxons. "Shepard, you have to get out of that bed, now. This facility is under attack." She flips off the microphone, looking over with a mixture of relief and worry. "She's moving. She's alive." Then she hesitates. "Let's hope your study was correct."

"I've got some bad news," I wince. "Those explosions? The security hub is gone. Blown to pieces. Nothing left." So much for my backup plan. With no security hub, I can't input my override code. Shit.

Miranda grimaces. "Shepard," she says, turning back to the console. She grips the terminal so hard her knuckles turn white. "Your scars aren't healed yet but I need you to move. This facility is under attack."

"I've got motion tracking," I report. A schematic of the station flickers to life, coloured blips moving where station telemetry still works. A quick filter makes organics blue, leaving mechs red. Finnegan's blip outside the med bay door still shines. He's still alive.

Even so, there are a lot less than thirty five blue blips.

"There's a pistol and armour in the locker on the other side of the room," Miranda reports calmly into the microphone. "Hurry."

"I've got major mech movement towards the medical wing," I point out. "Dozens of mechs inbound from all over the station. Whoever is directing this, they're going for the jugular."

"Grab the pistol and armour from the locker," Miranda coaches. How she manages to keep her tone even semi-calm, I'll never know. "Can you identify mech types?" Lawson asks.

"Not really. Just blips." I shoot her a schematic, a route lined in green. "If we want to link up with her, this is the best route she can take." Miranda nods, examining the path.

Finally, Shepard speaks. I swallow a smile. She's really back!

"This pistol won't fire," she reports, surprisingly placid. I hope she doesn't have any sedatives still floating through her system.

"It doesn't have a thermal clip," Miranda explains. "It's a med bay, not an armoury. You'll find some outside."

"I've got a temperature warning!" I caution. "Heat sensors near the med bay doors are off the charts. Compromised fuel cell."

"Damn. Those canisters by the door are about to blow," Miranda urges. "Get into cover now!"

Another explosion rips through the station, but Shepard's blue blip is still moving. I code her green, make it easier to keep track. The blue blip outside the door winks out for good. Fuck. "We just lost Finnegan," I report. "Killed in the blast." Miranda curses.

"Someone's hacking security trying to kill you," Miranda explains to Shepard. "Take the thermal clip from Finnegan's pistol," she orders. Might as well get some use out of it. Let the dead mourn the dead. "Looks like he was trying to set up a barricade to hold the mechs off."

"One mech incoming on Shepard's position," I report, my own voice showing stress. "Coming down the stairs. Diagnostics must be faulty through H-wing."

Shepard blows the mech away, and the two of us sigh in relief. Shepard might be alive, but there's no telling how her skills are after two years of death. "Keep moving, Shepard." Miranda encourages. "We have to get you to the shuttle bay."

"Two more from the front," I caution. "Three more coming from the maintenance shaft."

"More approaching your position," Miranda relays. "Take cover. Stay safe and take them out."

I let out a breath as the last red dot winks into nothingness. "Nice work, Shepard," Miranda compliments. She turns to me, irritation in her eyes. "Can't you slow the mechs down?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" I scoff. "I'm throwing false trails everywhere I can see to put them, shutting every door I can access. Even then, YMIR's just blow right through them."

Miranda scowls, but nods. Another two blue blips vanish, blown away by a YMIR's rocket. Shepard's green dot moves past them and I groan in relief. "YMIR's out of missiles. It can't get through the glass with just machine cannon fire." I curse. "Another squad just popped onto the grid. They're closing in. We have to get her to break through the encirclement."

"Grab the grenade launcher on the floor," Miranda orders. "Prepare for contact."

"We've got trouble," I grunt.

Four red dots storm across the walkway, abruptly disappearing as Shepard obliterates them. "Take the elevator down one floor," Miranda orders. "Run through the fire, it'll keep the mechs off your back." She cuts the microphone, staring at me heatedly. "What, Parker?"

"A full battalion closing in on us," I report, face drawn. That's more than half the surviving mechs on the station and it's not like there are any other Cerberus people nearby. Now that the numbers of active defenders are below a dozen, the mechs are sweeping the station for survivors. Wilson is directing them straight to us. Bastard. He must have tracked our location through the terminal network. "My system is failing." The terminal fuzzes, flickering in and out of view. "We're being shut down."

"You're doing great, Shepard. Head to the next room and a friend will meet you there." She turns away from the microphone.

Miranda's comm terminal is dying as well. "Shepard, do you read me? I've got mechs closing in on my position. Do you read me?"

Our terminals die, cracking and shorting out with a sputter of sparks. "Fuck. We lost her."

"You sent her to Jacob?" I question, stepping back from the terminal.

"He'll be able to get her to the shuttle bay. He knows the procedures. He won't waste time."

Wasting time, like trying to help survivors. She's right, of course. Without Shepard this project means nothing. The lives of everyone else on the station are a cheap price to pay if it means she survives.

"I pulled a user-log off the terminal just before it went down," I lie. At least it's a plausible lie. "The only other user online at the time apart from you and me was Wilson. He's the one hacking the mechs."

Miranda hisses. "I knew it. It wasn't an accident when Shepard nearly died. That coward."

"Shuttle bay?" I ask. She nods. "Jacob better get her there in one piece."

"He will," she assures me. "He's a good man."

A barrage of gunfire hammers against the blast door. "We're running out of time," Miranda confirms. "We have to get to the shuttle bay."

The two of us take off running, leaving the sparking remains of the terminal behind us. "At least the mechs are slow," I joke. Miranda shoots a glare so cold I can almost feel the frostbite. Right, Miranda's probably taking this as a personal failure. Best not to joke.

"Keep moving," she grunts, slipping into a side tunnel. All the security measures protecting the vents died with the destruction of the security hub, and only LOKI mechs can follow into this narrow aperture.

We drop into a narrow maintenance corridor, two LOKIs waiting for us. Miranda lifts one into the ceiling before crushing it into the floor, biotically slamming it to death. The second reacts quicker, flickering with electricity before discharging and knocking her back. It raises its gun, close enough that her barrier won't save her. I grab it as it aims, flaring green with power and tossing it over my shoulder in a judo throw. Unlike a regular shoulder throw, the mech hits the ground so hard it compacts into a metal pancake an inch thick.

"Didn't know you knew Judotics." Miranda pants as I help her to her feet. "Impressive."

"The Alliance has been working on it for a while," I confirm. "I got one of my people to duplicate the project files. I've been working on it for the last few months." It doesn't run the risk of breaking your fingers when you punch something, which is a nice benefit.

"I've never been through this way before," I ask. "How close are we?"

"Not far," she reassures. "Only one wing over. Most of the mechs can't follow through the vents and the rest were sent after Shepard. We'll be mostly in the clear from now on."

The next few rooms and corridors are clear, save for the bodies of broken machines and blood adorning the walls. At each body, Miranda checks for a pulse. "Wilson's going to pay for this," she vows. She knew everyone on the station personally, selected them all herself. Colleagues, friends, advisors, operatives. Subordinates. People she trusted and respected. Now all of them are dead.

"The Lazarus Project will not fail," she declares, addressing the corpses. "And you will all be avenged."

I wait for her to finish in silence. Miranda rarely shows emotion, rarely allows anyone to glimpse what's behind the frigid exterior. But despite the rumours and gossip, Miri does care.

Of all the people in the galaxy she cared for, around three quarters of them were on Lazarus Station.

"It's just one room over," Miranda says. "If Wilson has any brains at all, he'll have set a guard. Be ready."

I nod, taking over and opening the door carefully. Heavy stomping sounds through the walls, the door. A YMIR. Great. Heavy shielding, composite titanium plating. This thing's going to be a bitch. Whirring machine gun fire roars through the open doorway, pinning us down. The thumping of footsteps intensifies, getting closer.

"I'm not so good with shields that thick!" I call. "I'll draw its attention, you take them out!" Miranda nods.

I step through the open doorway, instantly tracked by the YMIR's heavy machine gun. The black barrel looms, the world almost slowing down as the danger kicks my mind into overdrive. I know these machines, studied them. They can track a marine running full tilt without difficulty, even with acrobatics thrown in. If a YMIR locks onto you, it fills you with holes big enough to fit a fist.

A normal human, that is. I lower my mass carefully, keeping my muscle mass high. By the time I take my second step I'm travelling faster than any normal human can move. By the third, as fast as a cheetah in full sprint. The YMIR turns to track me, bullet holes appearing in the walls a step behind me with harsh, percussive thunder. The massive machine stumbles slightly as Miranda's overload drains a portion of its shields, abandoning me and returning its focus to the Cerberus leader.

"Ignore me and pay, asshole," I taunt, ducking in close and slamming a biotically-assisted kick into the side of its knee, magnifying my leg's mass to half a ton in the moments before impact. Electricity races up my body, stinging and burning. I feel something crack and pain shoots through the bone, but the attack works. The mech's leg crumples, caving in and ruining its balance. The robot falls heavily onto its side, massive machine gun still blazing away at Miranda's location from the ground. I'm lucky it fell that way; if it collapsed the other way around I'd be the one in the firing line. I hobble backwards on a cracked shin, accessing a touch of the Rachni ability the last Queen gave me. Life flows back to my battered leg, healing the fracture. Back to full strength.

Using Life Transfusion comes with a cost, of course. It always does. But after two years of experimentation and experience, it's not like it used to be. Using Life Transfusion rouses my inner Rachni, overusing it threatens to drive me by instinct, override higher reasoning. But if I can confine it to specific parts of the body, the effect is cut in half or more. Healing a localised fracture just makes me a touch more hungry.

I conjure a warp around my hand, directing it into the immobile machine's torso. The corrosive biotic field eats through armour and wiring alike, disintegrating its CPU. The lights of the great mech's faceplate dim, its heavy machine gun slowing until it doesn't fire again.

Miranda emerges from behind shredded cover none the worse for wear. She observes me for a long second before nodding in approval. "You've become more competent over the least two years."

I make an elaborate bow. I'm rather pleased with my progress, actually. I might not be at Rakora's level, but I'm a lot closer.

'Docking Station 2' the inscription over the door reads. This is it. Now we just have to wait for Shepard.

"Come on," someone says through the other side of the door. I smile. The door slides open, cutting off the end of the speaker's sentence. "We're almost at the- Miranda…? But, you were-"

Miranda's expression turns to outrage in an instant. She cuts Wilson off by shoving her SMG in his face, pulling the trigger and venting the doctor's brains all over the walls. "Dead?" She quips, venom in her voice.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Jacob exclaims, bending over the corpse. There's no hope for Wilson, that's for sure. The marine glares up at his partner in shock and confusion.

"Easy Jacob," I steady him, arms crossed. Tempers are already frayed enough. "She was just doing her job. Wilson was the one behind the sabotage."

Shepard stops for a moment, her gun lowered slowly. "Parker? Is that really you?"

I shot a look at the ex-Corsair. "You didn't tell her?"

Taylor shrugs. "We didn't exactly have time for Twenty Questions."

"You're with Cerberus?" She asks, voice cracking. Anger or shock or betrayal, I can't tell.

Miranda rounds on Jacob. "I should have known your conscience would get the better of you," she jokes.

"I wasn't going to lie to her," the marine retorts, missing the joke. I roll my eyes.

Shepard shakes her head, focusing on Miranda. "Even if you were sure he was behind it, did he deserve that?"

Miranda fixed the commander with a long stare. "He sabotaged the security systems, killed my staff to a man and he would have killed us or worse."

Jacob still looks shocked. "Are you sure? We've known Wilson for years. Could he do something like this?"

I poke Wilson's leg with my toe. "Not anymore," I sniff in satisfaction. I never did like the guy.

"Anything you want to know before we leave," I ask Shepard. It should be fine. Wilson was directing the mechs and now he's dead.

"Convenient that you show up now," Shepard muses pointedly.

"Wilson figured out we were helping you," I retort before Miranda has a chance to. "He sent an army of mechs our way. We got here as soon as we could."

"What about survivors? We have to go back and look." Same old Shepard, I see. I shake my head.

"We're everyone," Miranda says softly. "We had telemetry going while we were directing you. We're it."

Jacob swallows, his eyes turning mournful. He had a lot of friends here, too. I never really socialised with the others on the project. It just seemed like a bad idea.

"Shepard," I comfort, placing a hand on her armoured shoulder. "Come on. Let's go."

CODEX: Asari Republics Biotics Ranking

Matron Sarrasari,

As requested, here is the most recent iteration of the list compiled by the Church of Athame. Each message will contain one datafile, image and video links included. As requested, we have begun transmission with Rank #3 of the list. If you have any further questions or points of clarification regarding the information below, you may reply to this address. As a matter of internal security certain information has been restricted and redacted from some records. The Church thanks you for your understanding.

Name: Tetrimus Rakora

Aliases: Mouth of the Shadow Broker

Rank: 3

Species/Gender: Turian Male

Age: Unknown, speculated late forties (Cabal records sealed, inaccessible)

Residence: Unknown, presumed numerous Shadow Broker facilities

Position: Leader of the Shadow Hand subdivision (unclear, information uncertain), Enforcer for the Shadow Broker

Basic History: High-ranking Turian Cabalist, deployed in dozens of black operations over two dozen years, flawless record. Sole survivor of his Cabal during the Relay 314 incident, captured as prisoner of war before escaping. Later officially listed as MIA by the Turian Hierarchy after his failure to return after cessation of hostilities. Recruited by the Shadow Broker and has served him faithfully.

Specialty: Biotic Beam. Church researchers postulate that Rakora's Beam is a high-density eezo construction initially developed from the techniques Charge, Shockwave and Pull. A minor Relay transit corridor is created, the victim pulled into the corridor's eye as consecutive Shockwaves, accelerated and destabilised by the transit corridor, destroy the target completely down to the last molecule.

Threat Analysis: Extremely high, flee on sight. Rakora's mastery of battlefield technology, biotics and weaponry make him an exceptionally dangerous foe that no being in the galaxy should treat with anything less than the utmost caution. A specialist sniper before his defection from the Hierarchy, Rakora's signature biotic 'beam' imitates this preference obliterating anything in its path without warning. Unlike many ranked biotics on this list Tetrimus is as effective with conventional tools of battle; this multitude of talents inflates Rakora's threat level far beyond any other individual on this list, his biotic prowess alone enough to secure third discounting all other skills. If confronted, the Church recommends immediate disengagement and withdrawal. If conflict is absolutely necessary, deploy Phase Inhibitors to prevent biotics and deploy numerous commando teams and/or aerial strikes for best effect.

Biotic Potency Levels: Force - 10, Discrimination - 8, Surge - 5, Reserve - 10

AN: It seems like it's been years, but we're back! It's been a much longer hiatus than I had planned or enjoyed, to be honest, but I can't say I'm disappointed. Being a dad is definitely the best thing I've ever done, even if it does suck up all your free time in an inescapable black hole of infinite cuteness. Nonetheless, we're back in the game! I'm definitely more excited about this story than I was about Transmigration or Reclamation; it wouldn't be untrue to say that this was the mass effect story I wanted to tell, the core of the idea that put me on this Self-Insert Transmigration Saga as a whole. Mass Effect 2 was the game that got me into this series and I have got a metric ton of content both original and canon-based that will come to the forefront in this story. While the line that made this story AU I feel was crossed with the Reclamation Effect, this is where I want to take another half-dozen steps away from the beaten track. To reiterate, this will not be a simple canon retelling. It will have canon missions and themes for the most part, but I promise that events will play out in unexpected directions, new motivations and catalysts will arise and it will not be the Mass Effect 2 you know, nor will it leave the galaxy in the same state as ME2 did. There will be similarities, but also changes that will alter the greater universe in the same vein as the beat of a butterfly's wings.

Also, I want to make this super clear, so: Although this is part of a series, you CAN read this story first, without reading Transmigration or Reclamation. In some ways I even encourage it, since with the benefit of hindsight I would like to change a lot of my first two stories...

Updates to this story will be a little more chaotic than the previous segments; with my family taking up the lion's share of my time I promise I will update with consistent quality as fast as I can- it may be weeks or months between updates but they will come.

Away from the plot stuff for a while, I need to thank a few people for keeping me in the saddle despite the passage of time. My wife, the extroverted recluse, and DelVar0 are the biggest two, by far. Both have kept me honest and have been amazing sounding boards for ideas. Of special note is Del's story Massed Up 2, which I have the unique privelige of knowing some future plot twists- believe me when I say that it is going to be a hell of an awesome ride and you don't want to miss it if you're a fan of ME fanfiction. Also, his author notes are like a comedy of errors at times, but he's a bloody legend in true Australian fashion. Finally, LogicalPremise deserves a huge shout-out for his incredible work compiling and creating the The Encyclopedia Biotica and his generosity in allowing me to reference his original characters. If you haven't read it, I encourage you to do so immediately whether you're an author or a reader- it goes into so much wonderful depth and it really fleshes out the world of biotics.

In the end though, trite as it seems, I'm most grateful to the people who vote with their eyeballs, who actually read this story. It's written for you, to hopefully brighten your day a bit. For everyone who has stuck around from the start, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you have (or are) giving a review, follow, favourite or even just skimmed the chapter in five minutes I'm grateful to you. I hope it's worth the wait.