Epilogue Part III: For Whom the Bell Tolls

When the first bell rang, Miranda rode the elevator up to the CIC, and walked in on a beautiful sight. Every woman on the ship was moving about as shifts changed. One by one, they found their places at their posts, and then the transmission began. She watched as they all suddenly stiffened as EDI started to relay information directly into their minds, giving them the knowledge needed to perform their duties in the most efficient way, while also reinforcing their programming. Those who worked at terminals were beset by subliminals which aroused their bodies and smoothed out their brains, reminding them of their duties to their owner and goddess Miranda Lawson. She strolled past Kasumi, who was robotically marching back her quarters, her face dripping with the aftermath of pleasure. She passed the naked Samantha, who was still wet.

Miranda took her place overlooking the galaxy map. She envisioned, one day, ruling over all of it as an immortal goddess who every being in the galaxy would strive to emulate in her perfection. She smiled as she felt hands wrap around her and gently squeeze her breasts. She looked over her shoulder to see her own face staring vacantly back at her. Jennifer would be a prototype, a proof of concept, perhaps in time all women everywhere would become Miranda.

She turned and allowed her doppelgänger to take her right there on the galaxy map. As they began to cast off their outfits, they were met by a chorus of voices all speaking as one across the ship as their programming continued.

I cannot resist...

I must obey...

I am a ****...

I have no mind...

I have no rights...

I am not a person...

I am the property of my owner...

I will serve my owner...

I will please my owner...

My owner is Miranda Lawson...

I was born to serve Miranda Lawson...

I will do anything for Miranda Lawson...

They would do this eight times a day as they changed shifts and watches. Miranda could have exploded with pleasure right there, but Jennifer had other plans. She leaned down and placed her lips up against Miranda's folds. Miranda sighed with joy as she felt Jennifer's, or rather her own, masterful tongue enter her, wrapped her legs tightly around Jennifer's, or again her own, beautiful face, and let her near-perfect copy eat her out. She practically squealed in harmony with the chorus of brainwashed women repeating their mantras of devotion to her. It was perfect. She was perfect. Everything was perfect. She would cum again and again and again... All to the mindless chanting in her name...

...

Later, Miranda was in her new quarters, sitting at her new desk. Her Asari trophies were standing at the foot of her bed, overlooking the sleeping Jennifer. She smiled, knowing Jennifer would not wake for sometime. She opened comms on her computer, and leaned back in her chair.

"This is Operative Lawson," she started. "Mission accomplished. All personnel aboard the Normandy have been converted into loyal and obedient operatives. Setting course for rendezvous point..."

A distorted mechanical voice responded, no indication of who it was on the other side of the screen, just a wavelength.

"Operative Lawson you were scheduled to report in weeks ago. Please explain this."

"I was authorized to handle this as I saw fit. I decided to be... thorough. Very thorough," she grinned. There was a pause.

"Acknowledged. Will pass that along. Nevertheless, they insist that I remind you of your duties to Cerberus."

"Well, consider me reminded."

"With all due respect ma'am, they insist that I too be very... thorough." That made Miranda arch an eyebrow. Had this fool never heard of euphemism? She watched her monitor change, showing a command prompt next to the wavelength which was rapidly filling with new statements, and below that showing an outline of... Wait... Was that her head? What was...

She suddenly jolted, stiffened, and her eyes rolled back in her head. The command prompt read.

Miranda Lawson OS Override Complete... Subject Awaiting Commands...

Miranda once developed the idea to implant Commander Shepard with a control chip. She never bothered to consider where an idea like that, so antithetical to her own quest for personal autonomy, could possibly have come from or where she suddenly decided to enslave the crew. She robotically removed her clothes, tossing them aside piece by piece.

"Miranda?" Asked the voice, with the experience of one who had done this before. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes controller."

"Call me master... Now... Turn on the camera... I have some new commands for you..."