Taylor, and her six forks, pondered her options. Her cover was blown wide open. She discarded several plans to fight her way out, there were too many innocents around to start a firefight. This left her with diplomacy. Her previous way of doing things, and what a part of her still wanted, was to get the upper hand by any cost and force the outcome she wanted regardless of things.

A horrible way to do things according to Lisa. One that made more enemies than friends. Reluctant allies at best. After two bullets to the head, god knows how long in a coma, and lost in a space station, possibly anywhere in the galaxy or even the universe, she was in dire need of friends.

She had to try at least. Doctor Solus had a clinic in a plague infested area, he couldn't be that bad of a person. At least it was her justification. If things turned sour she was prepared to portal through the floor and run like the wind.

Taylor raised her hands in surrender.

"You got me Doctor," she said. "I have no hostile intentions but I think it would be best if we had some privacy."

"Acceptable," he nodded. A holographic interface appeared on his wrist and the door she had just come through closed. "Privacy measures engaged."

"Thank you."

She unclasped her helmet. The suit hissed as the positive pressure inside was equalized with the station's atmosphere. She pulled back the cowl to which it attached and let her hair regrow. She wasn't an expert on alien expressions but the doctor seemed surprised.

"Unexpected," he said. "Unknown species. Possible first contact? Shapeshifting abilities? Fascinating. How to explain knowledge of language?"

Had she found Lisa's alien equivalent?

"I can probably shed some light on the situation," she interrupted his rambling. "Does the term parahuman mean anything to you?" She said the word in English as there wasn't an equivalent in whatever language they were speaking.

"English word, human origin. Etymology implies parallel form of human. Divergent evolution? Mutation?"

"Actually, what year is it? I should have started with that."

"2764, Galactic Standard Time. 2185, Earth Calendar."

Taylor tapped her chin. Was she nearly two hundred years in the future or was she in a parallel dimension with a slightly different time flow? She couldn't have been out for more than a few years.

Two years and change …

"If I am right then I originate from Earth but one in a parallel dimension," she said. "I was left severely wounded after a battle and lost consciousness, at the mercy of people who wanted me gone for good and had access to dimensional travel. Several hours ago, I woke up here. Inside a medical device hidden away in a secret room. I found this suit and used it to escape with the hope to find a way to Earth."

"Strange story. Existence of parallel dimensions theorized, never definitively proven. Estimated energy requirements high. Advanced civilization?"

"No, not quite," Taylor chucked. "Earth Bet wasn't very advanced compared to here from what I have seen."

"Other means then. Logical conclusion, parahumans. Explain."

"A parahuman is a person with supernatural abilities. For example the ability to fly unassisted, control any metal they touch, phase through walls …"

"Travel dimensions." The doctor continued for her. "Or change shape." He looked at her.

"Correct." She nodded.

"Source of abilities? Human physiology unable of it."

"That is a secret I wish to keep to myself for the moment."

"Understandable. Potential weakness. Lost in unknown location. Desire for safety." The doctor paced around. "Have proposal. Provide shelter and information. In exchange, work as assistant. Need help with clinic. Deal with troublemakers. If possible, wish to study powers. Implications, fascinating."

She hadn't expected to be offered a job. Was it out of altruism or a desire to study her? The doctor seemed to be fascinated with the idea of parahumans. Likely a mix of both. She didn't mind entertaining his curiosity to a degree if it meant getting information and a safe place to stay.

Maybe her ability to heal with [While Mage] would come in useful.

"Taylor Hebert," she extended her hand towards the doctor.

"Mordin Solus," he shook it.

----------------------------------------

With her helmet back on and the right number of eyes, Quarians only had two as it turned out, Mordin gave her a quick explanation of how to use her omni-tool and access the extranet, the sci-fi equivalent to the internet.

The model she had on was apparently one for scientists with advanced scanners and computing power. The disadvantage was that it lacked some capabilities of combat models, like the blade or shield generator. Mordin explained that most omni-tool models were modular and that she'd be able to add or remove what she needed in the future, either when she bought it from a shop or acquired some from somewhere else.

"Can keep up," Mordin said. "Impressed. Not many can."

Taylor chuckled. The professor talked fast and thought even faster. She'd had to increase the speed of her minds by thirty percent just to keep up with him.

Over the course of thirty minutes, Mordin gave her an accelerated course on galactic civilizations and general information everyone was supposed to know. The different species she was most likely to encounter, how the galactic monetary system worked, the very basics of space travel and mass relays, and more.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

She also learned about the species she was using as a cover, the Quarians, and their poor reputation in the galaxy where they were treated as second class citizens. Even in the twenty-second century, prejudice was still alive and thriving. Even in the far reaches like Omega, the station they were on. Situated in what Mordin called the Terminus Systems, the galactic wild west, it was the refuge for many disreputable characters and a large hub for black market trade. Gangs were the law and someone named Aria ruled with an iron fist.

It was nice to know that the galaxy had its very own Brockton Bay.

"First task. Assist Daniel." He pressed something on his omni-tool and the door opened again. "Need more samples. Pathogen difficult to analyze. High mutation rate. Annoying."

"You called professor," the man entered the room.

"Yes. Tay'Lor hired as new assistant," Mordin gestured at her. "Will help maintain equipment. And deal with troubles." The second one was said with a grin by the Salarian.

"Oh, uh … good?" Daniel didn't seem entirely certain. "Welcome to the team."

"Let's go then, Daniel." She nodded to the man. "Show me around?"

"Yes, of course."

----------------------------------------

She followed Daniel to another part of the clinic. He explained that patients were separated according to the severity of their symptoms and, by extension, the progress of the disease. The waiting room they had gone through was for those who had injuries other than the disease. Then there were three separate areas, one for those who had light symptoms, for whom recovery was more likely, then those that had heavy symptoms, for whom a cure was required, and those that were in the terminal stages where recovery was impossible.

"Our biosecurity protocols are not the best," Daniel said in an apologetic manner. "This small clinic was never meant to deal with an epidemic like that. We try to minimize contact as much as possible but some patients are … belligerent." Taylor nodded. "It doesn't help that Humans are immune to the disease, some are suspicious or resentful."

"I'm not sure my presence will help in that regard."

She saw Daniel cringe from the corner of her eye.

"But it's good that we finally have a technician," he changed the subject, "our equipment isn't the best and breaks down too often. The professor can usually fix it but …"

"… it's time he doesn't have to work on the cure." Taylor finished.

"Exactly."

"So … where do you need me?"

"First priority is the medical equipment, everything works but it's held together by omni-gel and prayers, then the security mechs. We have enough spare parts for that. The staff room has a broken shower and coffee machine, too low priority for the professor to fix but it would be a big morale boost. The kitchen needs some love too."

"Medical first then," she nodded. "Lead the way."

One of her forks was already in the process of selecting the appropriate specializations. One of them was the Repair and Maintenance she had used previously but she also went with Medical Equipment to get a more precise idea of what things did and Tooling to help with the work itself.

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They passed through the waiting room and Daniel used his omni-tool to open another door. A rudimentary decontamination chamber was built on the other side. They passed through some sort of arch which had powerful ultraviolet lights to kill as many germs as possible. They emerged in a small atrium on the other side. To their right was a nurse station with three humans staffing it

"Mary," Daniel waved at one of the nurses. "This is Tay'Lor. She is here to help with equipment maintenance."

"Finally, a real engineer," a stout woman with brown hair said. "God knows the professor tries but he's stretched too thin these days. We've lost more than one patient to a failing machine."

"What are the priorities? Daniel already gave me an idea but …" Taylor asked.

"The most pressing issue is the respirators," Mary said. "We still have spare dialysis machines but at the rate cases are worsening, I don't know how long that will stay true. Stephan has fixed some of our non critical equipment like monitors but a second look from someone who knows what they're doing is probably a good idea."

"I see," Taylor nodded.

A console near Mary chimed with an alert. Taylor assumed it wasn't the good kind from how everyone reacted.

"Stephan will show you," Mary barked as she briskly stepped from behind the counter. "Daniel, code blue in room eight." As she said that, they both took off in a sprint into the hallway opposite the nurse station.

"This way miss," Stephan said. He was a tall and wiry man with short salt and pepper hair. "I've already loaded most of our broken equipment on a cart to deliver to doctor Solus."

Taylor followed him behind the counter and through a door into a storage area. Rows of boxes filled with medical equipment and medicine sat on shelves all around the room. Several fridges covered the back wall, they were filled with vials and blood bags, all neatly labeled. Next to the door, she saw several wheeled carts filled with machines.

"Here we go," Stephan said. "Everything is on these three carts."

She examined the machines more closely. Her tinker powers were working at full throttle and she quickly sorted out which were what. One of the respirators had several broken components in the gas exchanger, long term fatigue had done them in. Most of the failures were like that, mechanical. She asked Stephan a few questions about the ones that didn't have an obvious fault. Electronic components were less prone to failure but only marginally over long periods of time.

"I'll have to bring them with me," Taylor said. "I doubt you want me spreading small bits of machinery all over your storeroom."

Stephan shook his head.

----------------------------------------

Taylor brought the carts back to the doctor's workshop-slash-laboratory. There weren't many other places to bring them without stepping on someone else's shoes. With the exception of a storage room stacked from floor to ceiling with metal crates and a small cafeteria for the nurses, everywhere else was occupied by patients. Of course, like every good tinker, Doctor Solus had occupied every square inch of flat space with his own equipment. She spotted some machines that looked like what she needed, at least from what her tinker power deduced, on a bench with a half-disassembled desktop centrifuge.

"Doctor," she said, "do you still need that centrifuge?"

"Harvested for parts," Mordin said. "Feel free to take over space."

"I will," Taylor said.

Said space was a mess. Tools scattered on the work surface and piled in a medical tray to the side. Components big and small, probably from the corpse of the centrifuge, lay on the bench with no rhyme or reason. At least not one she could spot at first glance.

Taylor prompted her three beetle drones into action. They flew to the bench and started picking up all the random junk. She brought the toolbox over from a nearby crate and started to organize everything inside. A collection of glass containers were repurposed into makeshift component storage. She let her power guide her steps and checked the fabricators. They used the same principle as the one in her omni-tool but could create larger and more complex pieces.

"Impressive coordination," Mordin chimed in. He looked at her ballet of drones with an intense expression. "Drones working as one unit. Likely networked. Distributed virtual intelligence? Unlikely. Response to operator too precise. Almost like … neural interface?"

"Not quite," Taylor said. "The beetles are part of my power." She summoned one on the back of her hand. "They have a basic intelligence and can follow commands but I am also able to control them directly." The silver beetle flapped its mechanical elytra and did a little dance.

The professor examined the tinker beetle closely.

"Intricate construction. Cannot discern origin. Some components, unidentifiable. Wings produce anti-gravity effect." He waved his scanner over the construct. "No element zero detected. Power source, cold fusion cell? Contradictory to known theories. Thought to be impossible. Fascinating."

"Welcome to the world of parahumans," Taylor chuckled. "Where the impossible is just another Tuesday."

"Interested in studying drones." Mordin said, still fixated on the beetle. "With permission."

"I'll prepare something for you," she said. "There are a few components that I want to keep secret for now."

"Understood. Can wait until virus is dealt with." Mordin turned back towards his workbench. "Solution still elusive but within grasp."