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“Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.”
Miranda glowered at the displays and their image of a tattooed young woman strapped down to an interrogation gurney, screaming her defiance. She literally seethed with biotic energy, and the technician watching over the equipment nervously checked the Asari dampener; it was absorbing an alarming amount of energy.
“Where did they pick her up?” Miranda asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Asgard system, in the Exodus cluster.” The technician tweeked the dampener’s controls. “She was apparently hiding out with a Terra Firma cell that we also had an agent in. Strike team took her down without a whisper.”
“That’s the only way,” Miranda said. “Give her something to fight and she’ll never stop. Like a dog with a bone.” She shook her head. “The Teltin cell proved to be woefully incompetent and now I have to waste time correcting their mistakes.” Project Lazarus was at a critical point; they’d only just now rebuild Shepard’s skeletal system into something vaguely human and this diversion of her attentions was entirely unwelcome. “If Subject Zero hadn’t killed them all, I’d do it myself.”
The technician wisely kept quiet at that, and Miranda reviewed Subject Zero’s psych profile. Forcing her to heel would be impossible, especially with the limitations they were under. A more complicated, subtle effort would have to be undertaken, and quickly. “How long until she burns out the dampener?”
“An hour, tops. More likely twenty minutes. It’s incredible, I’ve seen it tap out L4s indefinitely, but her…I don’t think the biotic scale applies to her.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Miranda decided on her course of action. “I trust that your discretion is not in question?”
“Ma’am?”
“I’m going to deal with Subject Zero unconventionally. It will be unseemly.”
“I understand, Operative Lawson.”
“And if you are any less than discrete, I will sell you to the Batarians. Without hesitation.”
He had enough sense not to pretend that she was joking, and just nodded. “Yes, Operative Lawson.”
Miranda checked the pistol on her hip, then stepped into the security airlock into Subject Zero’s cell. The room was notable only in the glaring, white uniformity of the walls, floor and ceiling, and for the livid woman strapped to the gurney in the middle. Subject Zero craned her head around to see Miranda enter. “What the fuck are you looking at, Cerberus bitch?”
“Not much,” Miranda replied. The woman’s very tone was infuriating, and Miranda realized she was looking forward to the next hour or so if only because she could get her to shut up. “You’ve led us on quite a chase, Subject Zero.”
“Fuck you. Whatever you’ve got stopping my biotics isn’t going to last much longer. I can already feel it slowing down and when I finally bust it down you can show me all about getting chased.”
“Charming.” Miranda stood next to the gurney, deliberately taunting Zero with her proximity. The other woman took the bait immediately, struggling furiously against her bindings. “Have you ever read ‘The Terminal Man,’ Zero?” Zero just scowled at her. “I supposed I shouldn’t assume you read. It is a book by a human author. Late twentieth century. A group of scientists took a man and attempted to rehabilitate him of his seizures with an implant. What they didn’t foresee is that the man learned that he could alter the device to provide him pleasure, and began to provoke the seizures. Sound familiar to you, Zero?”
“You assholes aren’t trying to rehabilitate shit.”
“No, we’re trying to push the boundaries of human biotic capabilities. And it worked! Fighting and killing gets you a high like nothing else. Don’t try to lie, I’ve seen your brainscans. The arousal zones of your brain light up every time you see an opportunity to hurt someone.” Zero didn’t say anything, and Miranda took that as confirmation. “The problem is that you’re useless as a weapon if you get yourself into stupid bar fights just to get yourself off. You need discipline if you’re going to be of any use to us.”
“I’m a weapon alright.” Blue energy flared around Zero, and something in the ceiling audibly shattered. “Hear that Cheerleader? Your little trick is breaking.”
“You’re right. We just made you too powerful, and there really isn’t much time before you get free.” She leaned over, speaking softly into Zero’s ear. “Let me tell you what’s going to happen here. I’m going to spend the next fifteen minutes or so adjusting your attitude. It’s surely not going to be enough, but it’ll be a start. After that, I’m going to put you under and blank your conscious memory to ensure that the effects take hold on a subconscious level. You won’t even notice that you’ve become more compliant.” Zero surged against the restraints at that, and Miranda suppressed a smile. “If you do manage to escape, since you seem so very good at that, it won’t matter. We’ll just pick you up again and continue on.”
Miranda stepped back from the gurney and brought up her omnitool. With a single keystroke she released the straps restraining Zero. Instantly the smaller woman launched herself from the bed, hurtling herself screaming at Miranda. It took the barest fraction of her attention to focus her biotics on Zero and slam her first up into the ceiling, then back down to the floor. “My biotics work quite well,” she commented drily. Zero was already pushing up, coming into a runner’s crouch and before she could throw herself forward again Miranda hit another key on her omnitool, a cruel smile curving her lips.
Zero instantly collapsed to the ground, howling in pleasure, indignation and outright fear. She lay there, panting, and Miranda continued on as if Zero hadn’t gotten up at all. “The implant is a far more elegant solution than combat drugs. The sensations can be better tailored to specific situations.”
“Fuck you, you sick bitch.”
Miranda triggered the implant again and Zero fell to her side, her body wracked with a long, rolling orgasm. She began to struggle to her feet as the sensation faded, but another began on the heels of the first. It took seven continuous orgasms before she stopped resisting and sprawled out on her back, moaning. Miranda took stock of the tone of her voice; the note of naked want was evident. That was the cue to end phase one, and she cut the implant.
Zero frowned, trying to understand what happened, and screeched. “Give it back, you bitch!”
“You want the pleasure?”
Zero glared at her from the floor, a sheen of sweat glistening on her shaved scalp. “Fuck you,” she muttered, unbuttoning her pants and sliding a hand in. That was new trick, Miranda thought with a smirk. Most either tried to remain stoic or begged for the pleasure immediately. She watched as Zero rubbed herself openly, eyes closed as she tried to focus on the sensation.
A frustrated groan left Zero’s lips, and Miranda cleared her throat. “If you’d like to feel it again, all you need to do is strip yourself.” Zero’s glared up at her, and Miranda could see that her eyes were still widely dilated. “You’re already rutting on the floor, what’s there to lose? Your dignity?”
Hesitation crossed Zero’s eyes, and after a moment she shrugged out of the ridiculous harness she wore. She shucked off her pants and Miranda nodded with approval, tapping a key on her omnitool. Zero staggered at the wave of arousal that swept over her, and Miranda caught her by the arm to steady her. Miranda smiled down at the smaller woman, and leaned in for a kiss. Zero pulled away, scowling, and Miranda simply keyed her omnitool again and waited. Zero’s mouth opened in a wordless gasp of pleasure and Miranda took the opportunity, crushing her mouth against Zero’s. Abruptly she let go, allowing Zero to fall to the floor.
Miranda nudged her with the toe of her boot, then offered that toe to Zero’s lips. “Kiss it.” Zero pressed her lips against the synthetic material, far faster than Miranda anticipated. “’The Terminal Man’ was written as a cautionary tale. Crichton was concerned that thoughtlessly using technology on the human brain would lead to unforeseen consequences.” Miranda smirked. “There are no unforeseen consequences to Cerberus. You’re my Terminal Woman, Zero. After we get done with you, even when you can’t remember why…you’re mine.”
* * *
Miranda lay back on her cot on Normandy, staring up at the ceiling and blinking away the sparks of orgasm flashing across her eyes. She let out a languid sigh as Jack pulled away, lips and chin still slick. “Bet your boyfriends never managed to do that for you, huh cheerleader?”
“It’s true,” Miranda smirked back. “You certainly showed me.” Emotions flashed across Jack’s eyes; contempt and superiority as usual, but underneath that something uncertain and needful. It was a common look on Jack; wondering why she was so helplessly compliant to Miranda’s whispered commands, and why obeying those commands was so much better than any other sex she’d ever had.
A hardness came to Jack’s eyes again, and she snapped: “You got yours. I did what you wanted. Gimme mine.”
Miranda propped herself up on an elbow, observing the other woman levelly. She considered denying Jack, or making her beg. That was always enjoyable, and by Jack’s stricken expression she knew Miranda was contemplating it. But not tonight. Tonight she would be generous.