This fan fiction of the Mass Effect game continues the story begun in the story “Spy Games”. Initially, he did not think about how erotic and the only, rather short, frank scene is not his end in itself and serves only for an additional emotional coloring of the work.

Terminus systems. Omega Station

- So you won't help me? Said Miranda coldly, turning her back to Nicet and watching the string of shuttles outside the window.

- Miri, understand, - Nicett replied tiredly, - I understand everything when you decided to run away from your father - it was your decision and your choice. But what are you doing right now ... I can not go for it, even with my attitude towards you. And I do not advise you. We barely managed to hide from your daddy and cover their tracks, and again you want to get involved in such an adventure. I have said it before and will repeat it again - leave the girl alone, let her live her life and make decisions when she grows up. You have no right to decide this for her.

“So you won't help,” Miranda summed up Nick’s hot monologue. - Well, that's your right. Then, I suppose that's all. Last request - if you do not want to help me - then at least do not bother me and keep your mouth shut. I hope at least you can rely on it?

- Miri., I ... - It started to be Nicket, but the woman, apparently finding that the conversation was over, turned round on her heels and resolutely left the room, did not even deign to give the former a farewell look. Outwardly imperturbable, she deeply felt very deep about Nick’s refusal to help her with the release of Oriana. After all that they had to go through together, after endless attempts to escape from the father’s bloodhounds, after long and difficult searches on the Omega, after the incident with Trask, from one memory of which Miranda sneaked in disgust, she didn’t expect to hear from the closest yes there - the only friend, such words. The worst thing is that Nick was right about something. His arguments were perfectly logical and correct, but ... But remembering her own childhood and youth, remembering her father and his attitude towards her, she drove these thoughts away. And such seemingly correct arguments broke into dust, and only one thought was spinning in my head: “It should not become the same as I once was. It will not happen. I will not allow it. ”

Terminus systems. Passenger transport Jr800

The credits remaining after a two-month stay on Omega, with a stretch, but enough for a ticket for the nearest board to the Citadel. From there, Miranda planned to get to Beckenstein. And there ... On this, the plans have so far been cut short. She would have enough money, perhaps, to get to the Citadel. Suppose there could intercept a hundred - another loans. There were still people at the station owed to her from her past life, but she had no idea what to do next.

Having carefully studied the data received from Trask, she came to the disappointing conclusion that she alone could not cope with this task. The estate in which Oriana lived was a real fortress and crammed with the most modern security systems, from the doorman on the gate to the anti-aircraft turret on the roof. Two security platoons from the personal security service of Henry Lawson completed the picture. In general, Miranda was in complete confusion - she knew where her sister was, knew with whom, how she was being guarded, but not a single sound idea how to pull her out of there to her mind did not come yet.

From hard thinking it brought a hard push. The hull of the ship shuddered, the light blinked and went out, the monotonous hum of the engine also subsided. For a minute the salon plunged into darkness and silence, then gradually began to fill with the excited roar of passengers, here the lights of personal instrumetrons flashed.The ship once again swayed noticeably, from somewhere in the front, from the side of the cockpit came a sharp rattle of metal, several shots, a loud bang and again everything was quiet.

The frightened passengers ran to the bulkhead, separating the cabin from the airlock and the pilot compartment, but then the door swayed and splashed them in a sheaf of sparks. The crowd rolled back in horror, the people quieted, hiding behind the backs of the chairs. Someone was cutting the door on the other side. Finally, the casements gave way and fell, letting in a very sinister-looking guests.

One glance at uninvited visitors was enough not to doubt exactly how they earn their living. The motley rabble that is full in Terminus systems - cocks, krogans, men, batarians, even a couple of asari. In general, the usual international pirate gang. The pirates quickly dispersed through the cabin, holding passengers at gunpoint. Those who tried to give a voice or were on the way were quickly put down with rude but neat kicks back to their seats. Bandits worked quickly and dexterously, without further ado. It was immediately evident that this boarding for them was not the first or even the tenth. Tidying up the cabin, the krogan, standing in the doorway with a shotgun and guiding the seizure, stepped aside, letting the man ahead in light armor without insignia.

“So, gentlemen and ladies, the train has arrived at the terminal station, please release the cars,” said a grinning man, looking around the hushed passengers. “You will make your further journey in the comfortable hold of the Chimera, which takes you to the heavenly corner of our universe — the wonderful planet Khar shan, where the hospitable batarian bosses will no doubt dump a bunch of credits for your heads. And now they have torn their buns away from chairs - and one by one. Step to the right - to the left is considered an escape, I regard a jump in place as an attempt to fly away, so I shoot without warning. Did everyone understand, are you gold?

Encouraged by kicks in the back, the passengers lined up in a column one by one and under the gun of several trunks reached for the exit. Each of them was searched at the door, taking away all valuables and everything that looked a little like weapons. Turn came up to Miranda. The krogan pushed her into a tight vestibule, and the three-eyed batarian began to search the woman with her usual movements. There was no personal stuff with Miranda; she flew away from Omega in haste and light. Only the bracelet of the instrumetron on the wrist, the handbag with the most necessary, and the information carrier with data on Oriana disguised as a pendant on a chain.

Nevertheless, the batarian reacted to her inspection even too carefully. First, a handbag flew into the box at the entrance, followed by a bracelet. Three-eyed with a smirk and without haste, ran his fingers through all the seams of the close suit of the woman, not losing a single fold and bending of the body. This no longer resembled a simple search, and he didn’t hide it. With a lustful gleam in his eyes, he shamelessly pawed Miranda against the wall, squeezing her thighs, squeezing her chest. Having fastened a woman's forearm to the throat against the wall, he, with heavy and intermittent breathing, pushed her tightly compressed legs with his knee and launched his hand there. Mira tried to twitch, but the pirate pressed harder and she huddled like a beached fish trying to take a little bit of air.

- Do not twitch bitch, - he whispered in her ear, spraying fumes from a mixture of cheap liquor and nicotine, - If you kick, it will only hurt. So relax and enjoy.

With these words, he ran his tongue over Miranda’s cheek and, rather grinning, continued to manage his hand between the woman’s legs.

The world almost vomited in disgust. In her memory, the meeting with Trask was still fresh, after which she spent half a day in the shower, fiercely trying to wash off the traces of public shame. And the thought of having to go through it again now, but no longer for the sake of a global goal, but just like that - at the whim of some drunk dirty freak, was unbearable for her.

And he continued to fend for the woman's body through the thin elastic fabric of the jumpsuit. With a jerk spreading her legs to the sides, he greedily stroked her crotch, squeezing elastic buttocks. Rising above the fingers reached the chest, squeezed it like steel mites.

“Ladna bitch, - Three-eyed whisper, ...