More from the Miranda/Traynor story:
She took the ring on her for pocket and placed it on the desk. Despite everything, he had hoped for some kind of future with her. Perhaps it was nothing more than the desperate Hail Mary of a drowning man, but he had believed healing was possible once the war was over. Except that the Reapers were still here. The Reapers had took the man she loved twice over: first the soul and then the body and left his work undone. It had been almost a year since his death, but how could she lay him to rest as long as they were still out there?
If she had gone through the last war in a haze of grief and panic, she was determined to do her part in this one. She couldn't get on with the business of celebrating and living just yet, as much as Traynor might wish otherwise. As much as she might wish otherwise. It had been almost fun at first, watching Traynor salivate with obvious interest. She would never have betrayed John for something so petty, but being desired by a beautiful, young, brilliant woman had been a sop to her pride after being stabbed by Leng. She had reveled in the attention. And then John had died, and Miranda had thrown herself into her work and brought Traynor along for the ride. She was still flattered by the desire the comm specialist tried and failed to hide, but she was even less free to act on it. Duty imprisoned her. She had slipped only once, caressing Traynor’s neck on launch day when the isolation became too much to bear. It had been so long since anyone but Ori had touched her kindly, and Miranda had given in to temptation. Traynor’s skin had been hot and smooth. Perfect. It would have been so easy to lose herself in her and become a human being once more. But duty called.
The ring caught the lamplight. Promises for the future indeed. "When this is over," she murmured, I'll ask her to dinner. Just need to finish this."
Her doorbell rang. "It's me," Traynor said, her voice tinged with more than a hint of anxiety. "I did the scans you asked and...and can I come in? I don't know how to explain this over the comm."
Miranda opened the door, heart pounding, and Traynor scurried inside. Her hair was a flyaway mess, and she hadn’t bothered with makeup. Her eyes, though, were fever bright with what Miranda was coming to realize was knowledgeable breakthrough. "You were right! I calibrated the scans to search for the frequency used at Sanctuary." The words tumbled out of her like a waterfall. "And there was a signal being transmitted to the derelict Reaper. It was fainter than what Henry was producing at Sanctuary, but otherwise it's an exact match. Someone is controlling the Reapers."
Miranda’s brain went into operative mode. Feelings fled, leaving only facts behind. "Can you trace the signal?"
Traynor smiled with grim pride. "Remember who you’re talking to. It’s definitely the Citadel. If I could actually get on the station, I could narrow it down more." She sobered. "But that wasn't the thing that had me rushing here in the middle of the night. I ran the content of the signal’s transmission through every linguistic program in existence. And it wasn't a garbled mess. There were directives. And your name was mentioned."
"My name?"
Traynor cleared her throat. "'Protect organics from their own folly. Make humanity flourish. Miranda Lawson is not to be harmed. Let her mind remain unaltered.'"
The floor fell out from under Miranda. Here at last was the confirmation that the Reapers were indoctrinating still. And the Reapers took a personal interest in her. She wasn't sure which terrified her more. "Wonderful. I have my own personal Harbinger." No time for fear or distress. Humanity was depending on her. "We need to trace that signal. Give me your data, and I’ll head to the Citadel right now."
"Shouldn’t we inform someone? The provisional Council?"
Miranda shook her head. "If the controller had to specify that my mind was to remain unaltered, then everyone else is suspect. I have to do this on my own, at least for now."
Traynor stared at her and swallowed. "Then I'm coming with you. You might be Miss Perfect, but I'm still the best at signal tracking in Council space. You need me."
It was Miranda's turn to stare. The poor, besotted civilian, her head filled with romantic notions. "I'm heading into the bowels of the Citadel, chasing after the Illusive Man. You don't have to follow me." Not for the sake of some foolish infatuation. Please, don't ask this of me. I can't give you what you want, no matter how much you deserve it.
"Oh, but I do. I know you don't think much of us Alliance types, but we take our promises seriously. And I promised a long time ago that I would do everything I could to protect humanity. I can barely hit the side of the building, but mind control signals are definitely in my department. So lead on, princess. You're stuck with me."