Chapter 30: The Calm Before
Two months passed in relative peace, which immediately made me paranoid. In my experience, extended periods of calm were just the universe's way of making disaster hit harder when it finally arrived.
But even paranoid transmigrants had to appreciate the normalcy that had settled over our corner of Omega. My days had found a rhythm that almost felt sustainable: mornings training with Anto, afternoons managing Aria's "biological problems," evenings with Miranda discussing timeline theories and analyzing intelligence data.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think this could last. But I do know better."
Anto had adapted to fighting alongside someone with genetic powers better than I'd expected. The turian's natural tactical mind had figured out how to integrate my enhanced capabilities into coordinated strategies that multiplied our effectiveness.
"Duck left," he called during our morning session.
I dropped just as his rifle shot cleared my head by centimeters, taking down a training drone that had flanked my position. Enhanced reflexes and Turian precision made us a formidable team.
"Your reaction time is improving," he observed. "The legendary synthesis enhanced your baseline responses even when inactive."
"The permanent effects of Krogan Warlord's Legacy. Enhanced strength, enhanced reflexes, enhanced aggression that I have to constantly monitor."
"Any signs of the... other effects?" he asked carefully.
Anto had become remarkably good at not saying "berserker rage" or "loss of humanity." Professional courtesy from someone who'd watched me tear through opponents with barely contained savagery.
"Under control," I said. "Miranda's anchor technique works. As long as she's there when it activates, I can maintain enough identity to avoid becoming a complete monster."
The afternoons were spent dealing with what Aria euphemistically called "biological problems"—everything from disease outbreaks to dangerous wildlife that wandered into Omega's lower levels. My genetic expertise and enhanced physiology made me ideal for situations too dangerous for normal personnel.
Today's crisis was a Varren pack that had somehow gotten into the civilian districts. Not unusual on its own, but these varren were showing signs of enhancement—artificial genetic modification that made them stronger, smarter, and far more aggressive than wild specimens.
"Someone's been experimenting with gene therapy on local wildlife. That's either very bad news or very, very bad news."
I tracked them through maintenance tunnels while Kreek's pack provided support. The enhanced varren fought with tactical intelligence that wild animals shouldn't possess, coordinating attacks and using environmental advantages with almost sapient cunning.
When we finally cornered the alpha, I could see why. Genetic modifications were visible in its enhanced musculature and altered cranial structure. Someone had been using varren as test subjects for combat enhancement protocols.
"This tech is sophisticated," I told Aria later, reviewing tissue samples in Solveli's lab. "Military-grade genetic modification. Someone on Omega has resources and expertise that rival Cerberus."
"The Collector tech supplier, maybe? Testing enhancement protocols before the main event?"
"Add it to the growing list of concerns," Aria replied. "How are the defensive preparations?"
The fortifications were coming along well. Each faction had strengthened their territories according to my recommendations—reinforced structural points, backup power grids, communication redundancies, designated safe zones for civilian evacuation. They thought they were humoring Aria's paranoid advisor, but they were actually preparing for the most dangerous assault Omega had ever faced.
The evenings belonged to Miranda and timeline analysis. We'd established a routine of reviewing intelligence reports while sharing whatever passed for dinner on Omega.
"Collector activity is increasing across three systems," she said, highlighting data on her projection display. "Ship movements suggest major operations beginning within days."
"Right on schedule. The calm is ending."
"How accurate are your timeline predictions?" she asked.
"Becoming less accurate every day. My presence changes things, creates ripples that compound into wave disruptions. I'm flying blind now."
Miranda set down her datapad and studied my face with those calculating blue eyes that had learned to read my expressions like genetic sequences.
"You look troubled. More than usual, I mean."
I'd been dreading this conversation, but she deserved honesty.
"Miranda, I need to tell you something about my past. My real past."
Her expression grew attentive but not surprised. "You mean beyond the carefully edited version you've shared?"
"She knows. Of course she knows. Miranda Lawson doesn't miss patterns."
"I was designed to be loyal," she said quietly before I could continue. "Genetically engineered for obedience to my father, then transferred that obedience to the Illusive Man. Perfect genes, perfect training, perfect psychological conditioning to serve other people's agendas."
She moved closer, taking my enhanced hands in hers.
"Meeting you—watching someone choose their evolution instead of having it forced—made me realize I could choose too. I could decide who Miranda Lawson was going to be."
"She understands. Better than anyone, she understands the weight of being made for someone else's purpose."
"Tell me about your world," she continued. "The reality you came from."
I shared carefully chosen memories—a world of seven billion humans, no alien contact, technology advanced but limited to single planets. A place where Mass Effect was fiction, where the Reapers and Collectors and galactic community existed only in video games.
"You're not from a different place," she said when I finished. "You're from a different reality entirely. That's why you know the future—it was your past. Your entertainment became my existence."
I braced for rejection, for the reasonable conclusion that I was insane or lying or both.
Instead, she kissed me.
Soft, tender, real—nothing like the perfect Cerberus operative and everything like a woman choosing her own path.
"Then I'm glad your reality brought you here," she whispered against my lips. "To me."
[RELATIONSHIP MILESTONE: MIRANDA LAWSON]
[ROMANTIC PARTNER STATUS: FULLY ESTABLISHED]
[FRIENDSHIP BAR: 85% → 95%]
[SPECIAL ABILITY ENHANCED: PERSONALITY ANCHOR]
[NEW CONVERSATION OPTIONS: COMPLETE TRUST ACHIEVED]
We made love that night with desperate tenderness, two people finding each other in chaos while knowing that tomorrow might tear us apart. Her skin felt like silk under my enhanced touch, her breathing hitched as augmented strength held her carefully, protectively.
Afterward, as she slept beside me, I watched Omega's artificial stars through our window and allowed myself to feel something like hope.
But the warnings were already building.
Disappearances increased in Omega's forgotten sections—not unusual on its own, but the pattern was wrong. People weren't just vanishing; they were being taken selectively. Young, healthy specimens from multiple species, chosen for genetic diversity.
"Collector harvesting protocols. They're already here, conducting reconnaissance and small-scale abductions."
Citizens reported "insect sounds" in sealed areas, strange organic odors in maintenance sections, and brief glimpses of things that looked like large bugs moving through ventilation systems.
The Patriarch's behavior grew increasingly erratic. The ancient Krogan started muttering about "the cycle's acceleration" and "the harvest approaching early." His comments were dismissed as senile rambling, but I knew better.
"He senses something. Maybe Krogan instincts, maybe racial memory, maybe just the wisdom of age. But he knows."
Aria's intelligence network picked up increased ship activity in nearby systems—unidentified vessels with organic hulls and biotechnology signatures that matched no known species.
[SYSTEM ALERT: COLLECTOR ACTIVITY PROBABILITY: 87%]
[INCREASE FROM 34% TWO MONTHS AGO]
[ESTIMATED TIME TO MAJOR INCURSION: 7-14 DAYS]
[RECOMMENDATION: COMPLETE FINAL PREPARATIONS]
[USER SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 46%]
[OMEGA SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 34%]
I gathered my allies that evening—Anto, Kreek, Miranda—to discuss final preparations. The weight of approaching crisis pressed down on all of us.
"The defensive positions are ready," Anto reported. "Faction leaders are coordinating under Aria's authority. Weapons stockpiles are distributed. Communication networks have redundancies."
"Kreek's pack has spread to all districts," I added. "They'll provide early warning and civilian evacuation support."
"Medical supplies are stockpiled," Miranda concluded. "Emergency protocols are established. We're as ready as we can be for unknown threats."
Aria summoned her faction leaders for emergency planning. The mood in her conference room was tense—professional killers who'd survived everything Omega could throw at them, suddenly facing an enemy they couldn't name or understand.
"Something is coming," Aria announced without preamble. "Intelligence indicates a major threat to the station within days. All factions will coordinate defense under my authority."
The faction leaders agreed with surprising unity. Even Eclipse and Blood Pack representatives, normally at each other's throats, recognized the gravity of approaching crisis.
"They can feel it too. The approaching storm. Even without knowing what's coming, they sense the danger."
The night before the Collectors arrived, I stood on Omega's observation deck watching space, Miranda beside me. The stars looked peaceful, innocent, showing no sign of the horror approaching from the darkness between them.
"Can we win?" she asked.
I thought about my game knowledge—the Collectors nearly destroying human colonies, harvesting entire populations, building toward the Human-Reaper project that would have guaranteed galactic extinction.
But I also thought about the changes I'd made—defenses built, allies gathered, power gained, timeline altered in ways that might create unexpected opportunities.
"In my timeline, the Collectors nearly destroyed humanity," I said honestly. "We're ahead of schedule, better prepared, but they're still terrifying. They've never lost a harvesting operation."
"But?"
"But they've never faced this version of Omega either. They've never faced someone who knew they were coming."
Miranda squeezed my hand, sharing her warmth in the cold observation deck.
"All I know," I continued, "is that I'm not letting them take anyone without a fight."
The System chimed with its familiar dry humor:
[QUEST UPDATE: THE COLLECTOR WARNING]
[FINAL PHASE BEGINNING]
[ESTIMATED ENEMY ARRIVAL: 18 HOURS]
[RECOMMENDATION: DO NOT DIE. IT WOULD BE INCONVENIENT.]
I smiled despite the approaching nightmare. Even facing impossible odds, the System maintained its sardonic personality.
Tomorrow would bring horror beyond imagination. Seeker swarms, Collector drones, biotechnology designed to harvest entire populations. And somewhere in the darkness, Harbinger himself—Reaper agent and architect of organic extinction.
But tonight, I had Miranda's warmth beside me, friends who trusted me despite knowing what I'd become, and power enough to make the Collectors pay for every life they tried to take.
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: +200 XP FROM PREPARATIONS AND RELATIONSHIP DEVELOPMENT]
[CURRENT XP: 2100/4000 TO LEVEL 8]
[SKILLS DEVELOPED: LEADERSHIP (APPRENTICE 45%), TACTICS (APPRENTICE 38%), TIMELINE MANAGEMENT (NOVICE 34%)]
[CREDITS ACCUMULATED: 45,000 FOR EMERGENCY EQUIPMENT]
[OMEGA STATUS: AS PREPARED AS POSSIBLE]
The calm was ending. The storm was coming.
And for the first time since waking up in that Cerberus lab, I felt ready for it.
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