Chapter Text
Where am I?
I peeled my eyes open, eyelids crusted and impossibly heavy. I raised a hand and rubbed at the gunge, rolling the dried beads between my fingers as I tried to squint through the fluorescent glare of the lights. I was on my side, lying on a cold, metal floor.
That wasn't right. I was… Where was I?
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the heel of my palm against my temple in an effort to alleviate to sharp pounding in my skull. After a moment I open my eyes again, this time, looking about myself a bit more.
All around me were stacks of crates. A storage area? How the hell did I end up here? I knew I’d never been there in my life, and yet there was something about the angles on the crate faces and the exposed pipes and machinery that was somehow incredibly familiar. I just couldn’t place it.
The lights were impossibly bright.
I slid my arm beneath myself and went to stand up but my already hazy vision swims and my head pounded deep in the base of my skull causing me to groan and lie still until it passed. After a few minutes the world seems to have stopped doing cartwheels and settled for a gentler, more manageable sway. Satisfied that I wasn’t going to throw up anytime soon, and rolled into a sitting position, pausing for a moment to let the vertigo subside before using a nearby box to lift myself to my feet.
Safely on my feet, I checked my pockets for my phone and found a few spare hair accessories and an almost empty chapstick tube. I looked about myself but the floor space that I had recently vacated was clear, as was the area around it.
I sighed. It must be at home. I’d just have to ask a stranger to borrow theirs so I can tell my roommate I’ll be home late.
Now that I was standing, I had a better look about myself. Yep, definitely a storage area of some kind. Aside from the crates and what appeared to be a series of engine mounts, a large door stood at the far end of the room, a glowing green keypad in its centre. Above the door was a viewing window through which I could make out what seemed to be more futuristic doorways with glowing orange centres, the one in the centre being larger and more rectangular than the two flanking it. It kind of looked like an elevator.
Wait... I knew this layout.
It couldn’t be… That window, these crates, the elevator…
The Normandy? I was onboard the Normandy?!
And not just the Normandy, the SR2 which - considering the lack of weights and blue shuttles in the hanger - meant that I was in Mass Effect 2!
I was too busy freaking out to hear the cargo bay door slide open and footsteps falter to a stop.
“Who are you?” a woman’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I spun around, the movement too sudden causing my head to pound all over again. A young woman wearing white and black fatigues stood in the nearby doorway, glowing orange clipboard in hand. I recognised her as one of those entertaining engineers. What was her name? Gabby?
Before I could so much as wave, she had drawn what looked like a pistol from her belt and was pointing it right at me.
“Kenneth, We’ve got a situation here!” Gabby called through the open door, then she pressed a finger to her ear and started speaking urgently to whoever was listening. “This is Gabby. We have an intruder in the cargo bay. Requesting immediate assistance.”
My vision was still swimming and my voice seemed to be stuck in the back of my throat. I lifted a hand in what I hoped was a calming gesture and made a vague choking noise that completely ruined any efforts to to appear friendly.
“Kenneth!” Gabby shouted again, voice rising in panic.
She froze suddenly, weapon lowering slightly and I breathed a sigh of relief thinking that maybe she was rethinking shooting me. Unfortunately for me she was just listening to her headpiece and from the was her eyes fixed on me with new found determination could only mean bad things.
Instantly the weapon was trained on me again and I could only watch as her finger squeezed down on the trigger.
I choked out something that sounded almost like, “Wait-!” before a yellow pulse hit me directly between the ribs and I tumbled backwards, head cracking painfully on the floor.
As my vision darkened, I could vaguely hear the highland tones of the other engineer, Kenneth, as he ran in, the two immediately beginning their signature bickering. And then…
Nothing.
I came to in a small, shiny room. Why in God’s name was everything on this ship so bright? I clear my throat and give a deep hum. Good, my voice seems to be working again. I was sitting in a chair, my hands cuffed and attached to the table in front of me. At least I wasn’t strapped to a recliner like that guy in Thane’s loyalty mission. That would have sucked.
Metal cuffs, I notice, rattling the links ruefully. I guess everything can’t be space-y. At least I’m not strapped to the chair like that guy in Thane’s loyalty mission. That would have sucked.
Still, having the cuffs attached to the table makes it incredibly hard to scratch my back.
Across from myself and the table is a door. Not five seconds after I start examining the door, it opens revealing what has to be the most pleasant surprise of my life.
I’m trying my darndest to keep a straight face but I swear my cheeks are twitching as I fought to stop myself from grinning like an idiot. Why hello, Operative Lawson. Nice to see you, too.
Miranda sat down in the chair opposite me, put down the datapad she was carrying and folded her hands on the table top. She is even more gorgeous in real life than she is in the games, and it only makes her more imposing. A normal person would have been petrified, but I was doing everything in my power to not reach out and touch her face to check that she was real.
We sit for a moment in silence. Me digging my nails into my palms to stay calm, her sizing up the twitchy, ill-dressed girl who had somehow managed to board arguably the most advanced cruiser in the Milky Way.
“Who are you?” she asks. I bite my lip to stop from squealing at how incredibly familiar her voice is; the level delivery, that west-Sydney lilt! I swear part of me died right there and went to heaven.
She’s still staring at me. I haven’t given her an answer yet, and having the death wish I do, I decided to test the waters a bit.
“Cutting right to the chase, are we?” I sat back in my chair, allowing a small grin to lift my lips. “That’s no fun.”
The operative remained unamused. “I’ll ask again, who are you?”
If Miranda was the one talking to me then Shepard was probably out on mission or indisposed, so cooperating until Shepard showed up was my best bet at surviving.
“Jaime.” I said after it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything else.. Jaime Morgan.”
Miranda watched me for a long moment before picking up her datapad and reading something over quickly. God, I felt like I was in a job interview. Usually they get hung up on the fact that I include an Interests section on my resume that only says ‘video games’, but never my name.
“Alright then, Miss Morgan,” I cringed at the honorific but said nothing. Miranda put down the datapad and turned her icy gaze back to me. “Where are you from?”
“Same place as you, it sounds,” I said with a grin. “Just a bit further north.”
Miranda cocked an impressed brow. “You’re a long way from home then.”
You have no idea , I thought, instead saying, “How far?”
“The other side of the galaxy,” Miranda stated. “We entered the Attican Traverse a few hours ago.”
Terminus System, huh. I remember a vast majority of the early game took place around here. Something about searching for Collectors amongst the more isolated colonies. Nevermind that, Miranda looked about ready to continue with her interrogation.
“How did you get on board?” she all but demanded.
“Magic.” I said, satisfied to watch as Miranda pursed her lips slightly. After a moment she sighs and procures her pistol from her belt, resting it on the table.
“Nice M-3.” I said with a nod to her weapon.
“It is a personal favourite of mine,” she responded coolly.
I let my grin slip, probably best to not provoke her. I remember from the games just how ruthless Miranda could be if you weren't on her good side. Seeing that she had my attention, Miranda continued, “If you wish to remain alive for much longer you’re going to give me a straight answer: How did you get on board?”
“I don't know.” I said honestly.
“I don't believe you.”
“Now there's a surprise.”
Miranda sat back and crossed one leg over the other. “You show up in the cargo hold with not even a DNA record of who you are in any database. You don't even have an omnitool and yet you were able to sneak onboard and stay undetected until you were found by the engineering staff.” Miranda paused as she looked me up and down. “You can understand this is quite the serious breach in security.”
I hummed and nodded seriously. “That is quite the problem. I'd love to help, but I honestly don't know how I got here. Like you said, I have no tech and I’m hardly dressed for espionage.” I say as I gesture to my old, tie-dyed camp shirt. (Don’t judge. I had dressed for comfort that morning, not style.)
“Then how do you suppose you got on board?”
I shrugged. “Do teleports exist yet?”
Her unamused face told me ‘No’.
“Wait,” I said, something she had said clicking in my head all of a sudden. “You said I don’t exist on any databases.”
“That’s correct.”
“Not even facial recognition?”
Miranda shook her head, slightly confused by my own bewilderment.
I don’t exist in this world. Apparently there wasn’t even a record of my ten year online presence. Yet another part of me died thinking about how many accounts I would have to recreate.
Did it affect just me, or was everyone else I know non-existent too? I had so many questions but the more pressing matter was the frowning woman before me. She must have noticed my little freak-out because her composure had shifted to somewhere between concern and skepticism.
My mind was racing with possibilities. Someone who did not exist on any system could be an incredible asset for a company whose whole trick was being sneaky. I was also a wild card and a possible sleeper agent sent to sabotage this ship. I could do anything, be anyone. But first, I had to convince the woman before me that I was worth keeping alive.
Speaking of which, Miranda was still watching me closely, perhaps waiting for me to speak.
I took a deep breath. I had my objective: convince Miranda that I’m worth keeping on the Normandy. How? Utilise my only bargaining chip: Information, however hazy it may be. This was in no way going to be easy. After all I’m not the best quick thinker, but I’d seen enough Doctor Who to know I just had to avoid saying anything too ‘spoiler-y’.
“I have a proposal for you,” I said.
Miranda quirked an eyebrow, but showed no other sign of stopping me.
“It just so happens that I am in possession of some incredibly sensitive and valuable information regarding, not only your employer, but the imminent reaper threat.”
“That's quite the claim,” Miranda leant forward, the pull at her lips telling me she was humouring me, at least for now. “Assuming you have anything of value, what would you want in return?”
I smiled and shrugged. “I’d like to stay on this ship,” I said.
“And what makes you think I’ll agree to this proposal?”
“Miranda Lawson,” I said, schooling my features as I stared her down, watching the faint flicker of surprise cross her eyes. Encouraged, I ploughed on, “Cerberus operative. Practically second in command. Your father designed you to be genetically perfect in every way: looks, brains, biotics; you name it, you got it. When you were old enough you rebelled against his ‘perfect’ will and ran, that's when the Illusive Man picked you up to join Cerberus. You love it here, not just because you believe they have a worthy goal, but because they give you a task and don't tell you it's impossible, they give you the chance to excel.”
Miranda is silent for a long moment. Her face a maintaining that signature, unimpressed mask. “That was quite the speech.” She narrowed her eyes slightly, something deep in their depths hardening. If I didn’t think she was terrifying before, I bloody-well did now. “How do you know all that?
“It wasn’t the Shadow Broker if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said. “Either way it doesn’t matter. The point is I know a hell of a lot more about, not only Cerberus, but the enemy on the horizon.”
Miranda’s hard eyes morphed into a suspicious frown. She was at least considering my words, yet still remained unconvinced and I cringed inwardly. I needed to say something concrete that had value to her, and there is only one this Miranda truly cares about. What I said next could have been the end of me, but it got her attention, so it was worth it. I steeled myself before I looking her dead in the eye and playing my trump card, “How’s your sister?”
In a flash Miranda was standing, pistol pointed across the table right between my eyes. Yep, I’d made a mistake. Pass me a pen, I have a death wish to sign.
“What do you know?” Miranda demanded.
It was too late to back down now. I allowed myself to smirk just a bit, if only to give my lips something else to do then tremble in fear. “That knowledge is keeping me alive, isn’t it?”
Miranda didn’t move an inch, her striking blue eyes interrogating every aspect of my grinning face. After a tense moment, Miranda said, “What do you want?”
I sat back again, folding my hands into my lap. “I want to talk to the person in charge.”
“I am in charge.”
“Nice try.”
Neither of us so much as flinched.
Finally, Miranda lowered her pistol and turned to leave. Just before the door slid closed behind her, she looked back over her shoulder and sent me a look that screamed, this isn’t over .
As soon as the doors shut I let out a shaky breath, clenching my fists tightly to try and stem my shivering.
She almost shot me!
I closed my eyes and tried my best to quell my panic. I was no doubt under surveillance and any signs that I really wasn’t as together as I pretended to be would certainly spell my downfall.
Miranda is on the Normandy, that means we are somewhere in Mass Effect 2. How early in the story is anyone’s guess at the moment.
Miranda was an obstacle, yes. But the real person I needed to convince was Shepard, and for that I would need a story other than, ‘I’m from an alternate universe and I controlled you in a game’.
Because that would go down swimmingly.