Mass Effect: Retribution

  Anderson turned away, giving her some privacy. He could hear her whispering, but he made no effort to listen in on what she was saying. When he heard the faint sound of Kahlee’s sobs, he couldn’t help but glance back to see if she was okay.

  She was clasping Grayson’s hand in her lap, a few tears trickling down her cheeks. She brought his hand up to her lips and gave it a single soft kiss before letting it slide gently back to the floor. Then she wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and got back on her feet.

  Anderson didn’t comment as she sat down beside him. He wondered what she had whispered, but he had no right to ask. The moment hadn’t been his; it was between her and Grayson.

  “Let’s see if we can get you patched up,” Kahlee said, holding up the omni-tool and giving him a tired smile.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  A number of things flashed through Kai Leng’s mind after Anderson rendered both of his legs effectively useless.

  He knew right away the wounds weren’t life-threatening. Both shots had struck muscle; no major arteries had been hit. His legs were bleeding, but not profusely—it would take at least twenty minutes before he lost enough blood to put his life in danger.

  Knowing he wasn’t going to die, Kai Leng’s first instinct was to get even. As he crawled along the floor, he glanced back and saw Anderson and Kahlee focusing on the injured boy. Kai Leng figured he had a better than even chance at getting to Grayson’s body—and the pistol beside it—before they noticed him.

  But once he had the pistol, what could he do with it? Anderson had chosen not to execute Kai Leng; he had too much of the noble hero in him to kill a helpless opponent. But if Kai Leng got his hands on a weapon and started shooting, he was pretty sure Anderson wouldn’t hesitate to finish him off.

  Normally Kai Leng would have taken his chances anyway. But Anderson was wearing an enviro-suit equipped with kinetic barriers. He’d survive the first few shots, giving him a chance to grab either the pistol or shotgun and start firing back. Given Kai Leng’s current state, it didn’t seem like a battle he could win.

  He could use the pistol to kill Sanders, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything except pushing Anderson into enough of a rage to kill him. He could use the pistol to threaten Sanders, putting them all into a hostage situation, but that would only give the security guards more time to arrive. Against such overwhelming odds, there could be only one realistic outcome.

  Kai Leng realized he wasn’t ready to die just yet, so he decided to ignore the pistol and focus on escape. He continued to crawl on his belly until he disappeared around the corner, moving at a snail’s pace. It wasn’t the pain that slowed him down; mentally, he was strong enough to ignore it. But Anderson was a crafty old bastard—he’d placed his shots carefully, knowing the damage to the muscle tissue would make it impossible for Kai Leng’s legs to bear any weight at all.

  The smooth floor of the Academy’s halls offered little purchase for his hands and fingers; escape would be impossible if he had to drag himself along like a slug. But the Academy was a space station—gravitational fields inside the halls were maintained by the facility’s mass effect field generators. In the event of an emergency, it was possible the artificial gravity could fail.

  On his way in, Kai Leng had noticed a series of metal rungs running the entire length of the ceiling. Their purpose was to allow people to move around should the environment suddenly become weightless. He’d also noticed a small maintenance ladder built into the wall farther up the hall to provide access to an overhead electrical duct. If he remembered correctly, the ladder was on the same side of the corridor as the rungs in the ceiling.

  The ladder was less than fifty meters away. Moving as fast as he could, it still took Kai Leng well over a minute to reach it. Then he grabbed the first step and hauled himself up the ladder one rung at a time, his injured legs dragging behind him.

  When he reached the ceiling, he wrapped his left arm around the ladder’s topmost rung and reached out to grasp the handhold in the ceiling with his right hand. But he couldn’t quite reach; his fingertips just brushed against the rough, rounded metal.

  Refusing to be defeated when possible salvation was only inches away, he lunged toward the handhold, simultaneously pushing off from the ladder with his other arm. His fingers locked around the rung, leaving him dangling by one hand from the ceiling.

  He rocked his body back and forth several times to build momentum, then pulled himself up as he swung forward so that he was able to grab the next hold with his left hand. At the same time he let go of the rung in his right and swung his arm forward to grab the next hold in the line. Keeping the rhythm going, he was able to go from rung to rung, his legs dangling below him as he propelled himself along like one of his simian ancestors swinging through the branches of Earth’s long-forgotten jungles.

  It didn’t take long for his arms and shoulders to start aching from the strain of supporting the entire weight of his body, but as with the pain from the bullet wounds he simply blocked the sensation out. By the time he reached the security clearance room outside the docking bay, his arms were trembling with fatigue, and his grip finally faltered.

  As his fingers slid off the rung, he barely had time to brace himself before his body fell back down to the floor with a heavy thud. The impact sent a fresh wave of pain through his wounded legs. He saw stars, and for several seconds he had to fight to keep from blacking out.

  It took him close to a minute before he had recovered enough to press on. His heart was pounding and he was gasping for air, but salvation was in sight. There was no way he could get back up to the rungs in the ceiling; even if he could, his exhausted shoulders and arms would probably refuse to support his weight. With no other options available, he once again began to crawl toward the passage that would take him to the docking ramp.

  He passed by the bodies of the two dead guards, inching his way along. He was halfway up the docking ramp—less than ten meters from the shuttle’s airlock—when he heard voices coming from the hall behind him.

  “Got another spot of blood here!” someone shouted. “Looks like he’s headed out to the shuttles!”

  Kai Leng redoubled his efforts, crawling across the hard metal floor of the docking ramp as fast as he could. Behind him he heard the heavy clunk of boots coming for him.

  He reached the shuttle’s airlock just as the first two security guards stepped onto the docking ramp.

  “Freeze!” one of them shouted.

  Ignoring the order, Kai Leng rolled through the airlock’s door and lunged up to slam his palm against the button halfway up the wall.

  Kai Leng wrapped himself into a ball, covering his head with his hands as the guards opened fire. A few stray rounds snuck into the airlock and ricocheted around before the heavy panel slammed shut, but none made contact with their target.

  Kai Leng knew he didn’t have much time. The guards’ guns wouldn’t be able to penetrate the hull, and the airlock door was locked. But they could still try to hack it open and get on board before he could take off.

  He crawled through the shuttle and up to the forward cabin. Hauling himself into the chair, he punched the controls and fired up the engines.

  Fortunately, the Academy had been designed with an exterior docking bay—far less expensive to maintain than a fully enclosed landing port. That meant there were no doors or ceiling that could be closed to prevent his escape.

  A few seconds later the vessel lifted off and pulled away from the station. Kai Leng punched in a course for the nearest mass relay, but he knew he was already free and clear, so he didn’t accelerate to FTL speed yet.

  Instead, he slid down from the chair and crawled back to the rear of the cabin, where the first-aid kit was still lying on the floor. Anderson had raided it for the rope to tie him up, but there were still basic medical supplies.

  He found a tube of medi-gel and smeared it onto his wounds to dull the pain and prevent infection, careful not to overdose and black out. Then he craw
led back to the front, hauled himself up into the pilot’s seat, and opened a comm channel.

  The display flickered, and then the face of the Illusive Man came into focus.

  “Is it over?” he asked.

  “Grayson is dead,” Kai Leng assured him. “But I couldn’t recover the body.”

  “It’s still on Omega?” the Illusive Man wanted to know.

  “No. The Grissom Academy.”

  The Illusive Man’s face showed no reaction to the unexpected news.

  “What about Sanders and Anderson?”

  “Also at the Academy. Both still alive.”

  “I think you’d better come deliver your mission report in person,” he said.

  Just as Kai Leng was wondering if he would leave that meeting alive, the Illusive Man said, “I knew I could count on you to complete this mission.

  “You’re a valuable asset to the organization,” he added, almost as if he had read Kai Leng’s thoughts. “Cerberus is lucky to have you.”

  “It’s my honor to serve the cause,” Kai Leng replied.

  “The station has been moved,” the Illusive Man told him. “I’m sending the coordinates.”

  The comm channel beeped to confirm the receipt of the incoming data. Then the view screen went dark as the Illusive Man killed the connection.

  Kai Leng leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

  He had the autopilot plot a course for the station and fired up the drive core, sending the ship into FTL. Glancing at the flight plan, he saw he had close to an hour before he’d have to manually coordinate the first mass relay jump of the trip.

  “Lights off,” he said, closing his eyes as the shuttle’s illumination dimmed. “Wake in forty minutes.”

  For the first time since this whole thing had begun, his body was able to truly relax, slipping easily into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Three days had passed since Kai Leng had escaped the station. Anderson’s injuries had been tended to; his ribs were still a little tender and it would be another week or so before the ligaments in his knee were completely mended. Still, he was well enough to return to the Citadel. But first he needed to speak to Kahlee.

  He found her where he’d expected: sitting beside Nick’s hospital bed to keep him company as he recovered from his wounds. Over the past three days her time had been split between this room, Anderson’s room, and twice-daily physio sessions to help her regain full use of her fingers.

  “How you doing, champ?” Anderson asked as he entered the room.

  “Fine” was all Nick said.

  He didn’t talk much when Anderson was in the room. That was to be expected. It was obvious he had a crush on Kahlee. When it was just the two of them, all her attention was focused on the boy.

  “You’re looking well,” Kahlee said, flashing Anderson a warm smile.

  From the corner of his eye he caught a momentary scowl cross Nick’s face, and he had to fight to keep from laughing at the young man’s reaction.

  Get over it, kid, he thought. Go find someone your own age.

  “How are the digits?” Anderson asked.

  “Good as new,” Kahlee said, holding her fingers up and twiddling them in the air. “I can start taking piano lessons tomorrow, if I want.”

  “I’ve got another proposal you might want to consider.”

  She raised a curious eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

  “Can we talk in private?”

  “Back in a minute, Nick,” Kahlee said, patting the young man’s hand as she got up.

  “Whatever,” he grumbled, though she didn’t seem to notice his suddenly surly attitude.

  Anderson led her out into the hall, then into a nearby patient room that was currently empty.

  “Shut the door,” he said once Kahlee was inside.

  “Sounds serious,” she said, complying.

  “I checked with some old friends inside Alliance Intel,” he told her. “No sign of Kai Leng or Cerberus.”

  “Like cockroaches when the lights come on,” Kahlee noted. “You think they’ll come after us?”

  “I doubt it. There’s nothing for them to gain. Besides, we’re too high-profile. Cockroaches like to stay in the dark corners.”

  “So what are your plans now?” she asked.

  “I’m heading back to the Citadel in a few hours,” he told her. “I need to take Grayson’s body with me.”

  “Do you think this will finally convince the Council the Reapers are real?”

  “You saw the research. You tell me.”

  “Doubtful,” she admitted. “The technology inside him may have been based on Reaper designs, but it’s got Cerberus’s fingerprints all over it. And there’s no way to know who or what was controlling him. Not anymore. They’ll probably just put all the blame on the Illusive Man.”

  “I may not be able to get the Council to listen to me, but there are people I can turn to … both in and outside the Alliance. We can’t ignore this anymore; something has to be done to try and stop the Reapers.”

  “You want my permission to study him,” she said softly as the realization of what he was asking dawned on her. “You want to conduct autopsies. Take him apart and see what you can learn about their technology.”

  “This isn’t the same as what Cerberus was doing,” he insisted. “I don’t condone what they did to him in any way. But they were right about one thing: the Reapers are coming, and we have to find a way to fight them.

  “I promise he’ll be treated with respect and dignity,” he assured her. “But there are things we have to know.”

  “I understand,” she said softly.

  “There’s more,” Anderson continued. “I want you to come with me. You’re the most brilliant scientist in Alliance space. If we have any hope of figuring this out, we need you.”

  He paused to give weight to his words before continuing. “I need you.”

  “You’re asking me to leave the Ascension Project?”

  “I know you love these kids. And you’re doing good work here. But nothing is more important than this.”

  She mulled it over in silence for a few moments, then nodded her acceptance.

  “It’s what Grayson would have wanted.”

  “It has to be what you want, too,” Anderson insisted. “Don’t do this out of guilt.”

  “It’s not guilt,” she said. “I spoke to them through Grayson. The Reapers, I mean. They kept talking about a cycle. They said our extinction was inevitable. I’m not going to sit on the sidelines and let that happen.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, reaching out to take her wrist, then pulling her close. “I didn’t want to lose you again.”

  He held her head in his hands, then leaned in and gave her a long, deep kiss on the lips.

  “Better not let Nick catch you doing that,” Kahlee said with a soft laugh when he was done. “He’ll bounce you off every wall in the station.”

  EPILOGUE

  The Illusive Man sat in his chair, staring out the window at the brilliant blue sun the station was orbiting. It was a suitably stunning, and perfectly nondescript, background for the call he was expecting.

  Occasionally he would take a sip from the whiskey rocks in his right hand, or pull a long, slow drag on the cigarette in his left. He was thinking about everything Kai Leng had told him, and what the implications were both for humanity and for Cerberus.

  He knew enough about Admiral David Anderson to know he wasn’t going to ignore this. Finally someone other than Cerberus was going to start doing something about the Reapers. That didn’t mean the Illusive Man was simply going to step aside, however.

  Working with Anderson probably wasn’t an option. Not in the immediate future, anyway, though he wasn’t willing to rule it out entirely. But for the time being he needed to make sure his own work continued, even as he tried to rebuild his fallen empire.

  And that meant smoothing things over with Aria T’Loak. He
couldn’t afford a war with her, and she had something he needed.

  He had just finished his cigarette and started another when he heard the soft beep indicating an incoming message. He spun his chair to face the holo-pad.

  “Accept call,” he said.

  A flickering, three-dimensional image of Omega’s Pirate Queen materialized in the center of the room. She was alone, seated in the same room she had called him from the last time they had spoken.

  “I’m not very happy with Cerberus right now,” she declared, skipping the formalities and getting right down to business. “You didn’t warn me what Grayson had become.”

  “It wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t tried to take him alive,” the Illusive Man countered. “You’re the one who reneged on the deal.”

  “I’ve heard Cerberus has suffered some rather serious setbacks of late,” she said, changing topics in a blatant effort to rattle him.

  “The stories of our demise are greatly exaggerated,” he assured her, borrowing a quote from one of his favorite literary figures.

  “I lost a lot of good people because of you,” Aria told him. “I don’t forget something like that.”

  “A war doesn’t help either one of us,” he countered. “I thought you were smart enough to know that.”

  “Is that why you called me? To sue for peace?”

  “I have a business deal.”

  She laughed.

  “What makes you think I’ll say yes after the way the last one turned out?”

  “This one won’t cost you anything. No risk. Only reward. It’s a deal you can’t pass up.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I want the research files from the station where you attacked the turians.”

  “That was your lab originally, wasn’t it? You used me to get revenge on them.”

  “I think we used each other. What about those files?”

  “Why should I turn them over to you? Maybe I’ll just keep them for myself.”

  “So keep the originals for yourself. Just send me a copy.”