9A/N: hi there, and welcome back to my story. Sorry for the late entry, I would like to say that I had a good excuse for not updating but I don't know if "I was not in the mood" is good enough considering each chapter took about four hours to think out and write. Oh well, here's to my reviewers since last chapter:
DarkDust27: who knows, she just might do that.
Everyone else: thanks for reading, I hope you like this next one. Please, reviews are awesome and there are only two kinds: helpful reviews and trolls. For the helpful reviews thanks a million, for the trolls: no food for you!
Anyway, I digress. ON WITH THE STORY!
Location: 50,000km from Citadel
Time: 0730 hours GMT
Status: alive, recovering from priority mission
G9 rolled into the med bay chirruping a worried question as to the status of his master.
"As I said to you the last twenty three times you asked me that question: No I do not know when the master will awaken, all I know is that she had a close call and we were fortunate she did not take any longer to arrive. If she had been any longer she would have died even if she didn't have an infection from that sorry excuse for a bandage.
G9 tweeted out another question, this time about the round she was hit with.
"I could not possibly know what happened! I am neither a combat droid nor am I one of the master's spy drones; I don't know anything about blasters, let alone this new form of firearms. I was neither initially designed to be a medical droid, nor a combat model. All I can do is come up with theories for a medical diagnosis, and those are conjecture at best and a deadly error at worst. In which case, it would not be good to come up with theories that may bring harm to the master."
G9 squealed a derisive comment.
"How rude! I will have you know that my programming was done by the master herself, and I have told the master herself that in order to get medical droid she needs to have me programmed by a medical professional, and even then it would still say she should get an organic medic anyway."
G9 was silent.
"Serves you right, you should not cut down someone just because they do not know the answers you your queries."
After this short exchange both droids were silent.
A few hours later.
The droids perked up, movement registering on their sensors coming from the medical bed their master rested in. the butler droid slowly approached the bed and asked her a question with concern
"How are you feeling master?"
G9 whistled in agreement.
"C9…" opening her eyes as she said this but quickly closed them immediately due to the searing pain that immediately hit her from the bright light, she winced and continued. "C9, dim the lights by thirty percent please."
"Of course master, I am sorry I did not know that the light would agitate the considerable headache you must surely have after your ordeal."
G9 gave a humorous warble at the butler droid.
"Shall I remind you what happened less than an hour ago you tin can?" C9 asked his rude counterpart.
"Stow it C9." She never understood what was between those two. "You asked me something?"
"Sorry master, yes I was inquiring as to your wellbeing, you were on the verge of death for a short time. You appeared to have developed an infection from your rather unsanitary makeshift bandage, although that was not the reason for you near death experience."
"Well, what was it then?" Mirsa asked her droid with a little irritation in her voice.
"The infection was a minor one, something that would have been easily treated with some antibiotics and a bacta patch."
"Yes, yes, but blast it droid what was it that almost killed me!"
Taken aback (and slightly miffed), the droid explained "You seemed to have been exposed to an almost lethal amount of radiation from the puncture wound in your shoulder. We had to submerge you in the bacta tank because we did not know how to treat you. And must I reiterate that you should acquire a real medical professional or a real medical droid before anything worse can occur."
Pausing, Mirsa started to ponder the reason why she might have been poisoned from radiation. It most likely was that Saren had a polonium rounds modification on his weapon. It was also possible that they were from some other radioactive ammunition modification as she was not truly sure she remembered what all the ammo mods there could be.
Thinking of mods brought her to think about her situation again. If she wanted to be sure she would be able to travel and prepare for the coming apocalypse she would need to find a new way to provide power to the ship. She could take advantage of the massive energy potential that eezo had to build an eezo core that could provide enough power for the hyperdrive and sublight engine, but there could also be enough similarities between starship fuel here and starship fuel at home.
"Master, are you there?" the butler/makeshift medical droid asked her.
Being broken out of her thoughts with a rather rude question she replied rather indignantly:
"What do you want?!"
"I have been asking you what is going on; as I do not recognize the star charts in the main database and after the debacle of that infernal space station where you almost died of radiation poisoning, I was hoping you would explain some things to me: One, who shot you in your shoulder; two, how many enemies where there that this happened; three, what you intend to do now; and lastly, did you forget that you had your blasters again?"
Blushing a very red crimson, (which is quite a feat given the blue skin, most of the time it comes out slightly purple) she remembered a very embarrassing habit that she had of forgetting things that are not immediately apparent in the heat of a situation.
"I swear master, one of these days you will forget to bring your shoes on a volcanic planet one of these days, and I will not be treating your feet because of your forgetfulness, maybe that will finally get it to sink in."
"C9," Mirsa started out quietly, "if you do not stop this behavior at once I will personally put you THROUGH THE TRASH COMPACTOR!"
Not taking the hint the droid continued, "and furthermore I-"
A loud sound interrupted the droid as he crumpled to the ground in a heap with a rather sizable hole in his head caused by superheated plasma.
G9 let his pleasure at the turn of events be made known in the form of a recording of cheers and applause.
"Ah, that felt good." The relieved blue spy sighed.
Turning to her favorite droid in the universe with a smile, she asked him
"G9, would you mind disassembling him? I think we need a new butler droid, One with more respect, and a better bedside manner."
G9 gave an affirmative and made his concern on the current situation known.
"I think our next steps would be to ascertain what the chemical content of starship fuel is, acquire a planetary base of operations, gain Intel on movements of the galaxy at large, and try some real food. Not necessarily in that order and those are just a few things that I will do here. First though, I will need to get an update on some things. How is the ship G9? How much fuel do we have?"
G9 gave the bad news on their fuel situation.
"It looks like we will not be able to go anywhere until we get more fuel or something. I guess we now have a new priority. But first things first, I will need a fake identity and landing clearance to get onto the station. We are at the Citadel right?"
G9 replied that they were.
"Good, let's get started."
Getting up from the medical bed she made her way through her ship to her main computer room where she kept her cool programming toys and got to work analyzing some of the data acquired from the Gefjun system relay, specifically Alliance military identity cards, starship IFF codes and military procedures.
Later
After quite a few hours later, Mirsa was getting frustrated with all the technical difficulties of learning a new system of identity forging.
"WHY IS THIS SO ANNOYING!?" she yelled, slamming her fist on the table and then promptly cradling her hurt hand.
G9 having finished disassembling the former piece of tin known as C9-S1 some time ago and had come to assist in his master's efforts, warbled out a laugh and offered some advice.
"No, I ate just before I started this project; however, I think you may be right, so I will go eat something"
Arriving in the kitchen area and opening up can of fruit the blue spy sat down and started to put together a list of priorities.
The first thing needed would be fuel or some alternative power source to power the ship and hyperdrive; of course that would require information on the chemical composition of starship fuel in this galaxy which in turn would require a trip to the Citadel or a fuel station, which also would require the forged identity that was the source of her still stinging hand (not her fault), but that was something for later. Second would be resources: eezo, fuel (if it worked or she could adapt power systems to work), raw materials, technological data and schematics. Third would be a safe and unknown location to set up a base of operations, which she had a lot of potential space to find one in due to the residents of the local galaxy having explored less than a percent of the known galaxy thoroughly so there would be a lot of unknown space that reached beyond what the speed or scanners of FTL ships in service can cover; in short, their space technology level is severely lacking, one small fleet of light cruisers could probably conquer the galaxy in a few years.
Thinking about isolated locations brought back thoughts of resource gathering, the best places would be distant planets and star systems that had resources. It would also be really cool if she could study how eezo formations happen.
But that would have to wait until the higher priority items were acquired, right now though was time to return to building a new identity.
Some hours later
"Yes! It's done!"
A rather loud noise came from the next room in surprise from the sudden exclamation of sheer joy on the part of the intrepid hero at having completed perfecting the process of identification forgery.
A rather perturbed droid rolled in the room with rather indignant exclamations of annoyance from broken concentration.
"Oh stop being such a bore; I am perfectly within my rights to give exclamations of joy when I achieve something of note. This is very important, I will be using this for many years to come, I also had to learn the enough of the local programing language to get this done, and you know how annoying that can be."
Still a little irritated at being started in its work the droid inquired why it was necessary to learn a new programming language to do that.
"Do you think that it would not be noticed if identities were written in a language that was not in existence?"
With a new understanding of the subtleties of spy work the droid rolled out of the computer room.
"I will have to learn this language and more if I want to be more invisible." Mirsa thought out loud.
That would not be the only thing she would need to do. Another thing came to her mind that would be necessary for a good spy network would be contacts and informants, there was only so much one can do with spy drones and Trojan horses and she had an idea that might work really well for a Trojan horse (1). As for contacts a few came to mind that would be useful at a later date. An extra means of resources would be to found a few businesses that would be the basis of the Trojan horse and be semi shell corporations (2).
With a sigh of resolution she said out loud "well, no sense wasting time, let get on with the identity"
Sitting down she thought about what kind of identity that would not attract notice. It would need to be something low key but not someone that would not be able to afford a ship luckily she still had a ship id of a cargo freighter, but that would have to be programed on the standard alliance programming language which should not take too long as she had a template for it with the personal identity program from earlier. It would probably be best and fastest to just forge an identity of a small time cargo captain offloading goods from some planet, probably some farming planet but not Mindoir.
"Mira Vras is a good name. Not that imaginative, but it should do temporarily."
Putting the identity together it turned out like this
Vras, Mira
Age 27, born: 12th Jan 2153
Spire Norwich Hospital, Norwich England, Earth.
Obviously there was more to it but that would be most of what people would even look at if not more.
Getting up and going to the cockpit she brought the ship just outside probable sensor range and deactivated the ship's cloak.
She was hailed by the station
"please give your identification and await docking instructions"
Doing so resulted in a probably automated reply
"please proceed to docking bay 72, and have a nice day"
A few minutes later after the ship landed on a landing pad (yes a landing pad) she was ready to go.
"Now to get some information."
(1) "She had an idea that might work really well for a Trojan horse" the idea would be to make a program that would increase processor performance by a good bit but not drastically that would actually work as it said but would send location data as well as data that was specified in certain programmable parameters.
(2) "semi shell corporations" these corporations would serve as an outlet for computer programs, mech export to production facilities at a base of operations as well as sources of income and raw materials that could not be mined and technology that could not be researched alone.
A/N:
I apologize for the long wait. I do not think you will have to wait as long for the next chapter, but life is unpredictable therefore it is not a ceratinty.