Mass effect, p.74
Mass Effect, page 74
“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Anderson shouted, tossing the stunner aside and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
The turians still standing rushed over and hauled him and Kahlee to their feet as their fallen captain angrily picked himself up. They slammed the humans back against the bulkhead, pinning them there by jamming their assault rifles into their chests.
Anderson didn’t say anything as the nose of the weapon pressed painfully into his sternum. He knew he needed to let everyone calm down before speaking. He saw Kahlee wincing in pain, though he couldn’t tell if it was from being roughly pinned against the wall or from banging her tender fingers during the scuffle.
The captain glared at the humans, then went over to check the two turians on the ground. They were both groaning in pain, but with the captain’s help they managed to clamber to their feet, much to Anderson’s relief. Convincing the guards to let them go would have been much harder if Kai Leng had actually killed anyone.
“I can explain all this,” Anderson said, judging that emotions had cooled enough for him to make his case. “That guy on the ground was holding us prisoner.”
“He paid for the docking bay,” the captain snarled. “He’s our customer. You’re not.”
“You’re still going to get your money,” Anderson reminded them. “Even if you let us go.”
“Maybe we should hold on to you and wait for him to wake up,” the captain countered. “He’ll probably throw in a nice bonus for keeping you from escaping.”
“He’s with Cerberus,” Kahlee said, jumping into the negotiations.
“Is this true?” the captain asked Anderson, stepping forward and leaning in until only a few inches separated their faces.
“It’s true,” Anderson declared, staring right into the turian’s eyes.
The captain took a step back, but didn’t speak right away. The guards cast quick glances in his direction, waiting to see what he would say. Anderson held his breath.
The anti-alien agenda of Cerberus was well known throughout the galaxy, even on Omega. It was only natural that most nonhumans would feel a similar bias against the Illusive Man and his agents. The only question was whether it would be enough to overcome the Talons’ mercenary greed.
“You can go,” the captain said at last. “Take his ship if you want.”
In response, the guards lowered their weapons.
“What about him?” Kahlee asked, nodding in the direction of Kai Leng’s still unconscious body.
“We’ll think of something special,” the captain replied, and the other turians all squawked out evil laughs.
“Things will go worse for Cerberus if you let us take him,” Kahlee insisted. “We’re with an Alliance task force. We’re trying to take the organization down. He has information we can use.”
“You don’t want to get mixed up in a war against the Illusive Man,” Anderson added. “You already got paid. Just take the money and walk away.”
The captain considered for a moment, then shrugged.
“Sure. Take him. Get the hell out of here. What do we care?”
Anderson didn’t need to be told twice. He bent down and scooped up Kai Leng’s unconscious body. With a grunt he tossed him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“How far to the docking bay?” he asked.
“Not far. Take a right at the end of the alley. Bays are marked on the side. 6358’s the one you want.”
With Kahlee leading the way, they left the turians behind, Anderson struggling under the weight of his burden.
“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you,” he said once they were beyond earshot of the guards. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “That was quick thinking back there.”
“Why did you want to bring him along?” Anderson asked, indicating the unconscious man draped over his shoulder.
“Figured we’d hand him over to the Alliance for interrogation,” she explained.
Her answer made Anderson feel better; he’d been afraid Kahlee was still clinging to the notion that Kai Leng and Cerberus could somehow reverse Grayson’s transformation.
Kahlee didn’t say anything else, and Anderson decided it was more important to save his breath than continue the conversation. Five minutes later they reached the spaceport. Anderson was relieved to discover that bay 6358 was the second closest one to where they had come in.
“We better hurry,” he warned Kahlee as they reached Kai Leng’s shuttle. “I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be out.”
It took her a few minutes to hack the security system so they could get inside. Anderson hauled Kai Leng into the vessel, then began searching for something to restrain him.
He found a standard emergency supply kit, complete with rations, bottled water, an electric lamp and heater, extra batteries, a small folding tent, fifty feet of nylon rope, and a military-style field knife.
Working quickly, he cut the rope into eight-foot lengths and used them to lash the still unconscious body of Kai Leng to the copilot’s chair.
“Can you fly this thing?” Kahlee asked.
“Basic Alliance design,” he assured her, firing up the engines.
After a routine safety check to confirm all the systems were working, he took the shuttle up and out of the docking bay, leaving Omega behind.
He hoped he’d never have to set foot on the godforsaken station again.
TWENTY-TWO
They had just completed the first mass relay jump on their way back to the Citadel when Kahlee got up from her seat in the back of the shuttle and came up front to check on Anderson.
She glanced down at their prisoner; he was still strapped into the copilot seat, unconscious. With nowhere in the forward cabin for her to sit, she crouched down beside Anderson as he worked the controls.
“I realized I never thanked you for getting me off Omega,” she said.
“I figured I was leaving, so I might as well take you with me,” he joked.
Kahlee smiled, and reached to carefully place her injured hand on his arm.
“What happened in Aria’s …,” she began.
Anderson shook his head. “Not with our friend listening.”
Kahlee turned her head to look at Kai Leng. At first glance his eyes appeared to be closed, but as she studied him carefully, she realized his lids were open just a crack, allowing him to see what was going on.
“He’s been awake for at least twenty minutes,” Anderson said.
Realizing his ruse had failed, Kai Leng opened his eyes wide.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked.
“The Citadel,” Anderson answered. “I’ve got some friends in the Alliance who are going to want to speak to you.”
“That’s a mistake,” he warned them. “You should be going after Grayson. He’s just going to keep getting stronger. He has to be stopped.”
“You’re probably right,” Anderson agreed. “But unless you know where we can find him, we’ll stick with the original plan.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Kai Leng admitted. “I just assumed you did.”
Kahlee sensed genuine surprise in his voice.
“Why would we know where he’s headed?” she wondered aloud.
“The Illusive Man told me you were the key to finding Grayson,” he told her. “He thinks you two have some sort of special connection.”
“He’s not the Grayson I knew,” she said coldly. “Your people made sure of that.”
“But you saw the files,” Kai Leng continued. “You know what’s happening to him. I thought you would be able to piece it all together to anticipate his next move.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Anderson warned. “He’s trying to get inside your head.”
“No,” Kahlee said softly, “he’s right. I was thinking about this earlier. I feel like there’s something I’m missing.”
“You saw what he did to Aria’s guards,” Anderson reminded her. “Even if we knew where to find him, what could we do?”
“That’s a coward’s excuse,” Kai Leng insisted.
Anderson didn’t bother to reply.
Sensing that continuing the discussion would only make the tension worse, Kahlee retired to the rear of the shuttle again.
Taking a seat, she continued to mull over the problem. The thing she’d seen in the warehouse wasn’t Grayson. It was his body—at least partially—but the Reapers were manipulating and controlling him.
If she could just figure out what the Reapers wanted, and how Grayson fit into their plans, she told herself, she could find the answer.
She thought back on the data from the experiments, trying to piece together everything she knew about the Reapers. They were interested in humans; that much was clear. They had even gone so far as to have the Collectors abduct humans so they could perform their own versions of the Cerberus experiments.
But if all they’d wanted was for Grayson to start abducting people, they’d have simply sent him out to the remote colonies in the Terminus Systems. The chances of finding him would have been almost zero.
She slammed her fist against the padded arm of her seat in frustration, sending sharp jolts of pain up through her splinted fingers. But she was too focused on trying to solve her problem to give it more than cursory notice.
Kai Leng had claimed she was the key. The Illusive Man felt there was some special connection between her and Grayson. Was he referring to Gillian? Was it possible the Reapers were going to go after Grayson’s daughter because of her unique biotic abilities?
She felt like the solution was close, but she knew she wasn’t quite there. The Cerberus data speculated that the Reapers would eventually be able to pull knowledge directly from Grayson’s mind. But even if they found out about Gillian, there was no possible way they could find her. The best they could do would be to inspect her files from the Ascension Project—
The answer hit her with such force she almost cried out. Leaping to her feet, she raced into the forward cabin.
“Send a message to the Grissom Academy,” she ordered, speaking so quickly her words nearly tripped over themselves. “Warn them Grayson is on his way.”
To his credit, Anderson didn’t argue or question her. Acting on her instructions, he dropped the ship out of FTL and sent out a signal to connect to the closest communications buoy.
“I’ve got a signal,” he said a few seconds later, “but something’s wrong. I can’t connect to the Academy.”
“Try emergency frequencies,” Kahlee suggested.
“I’m trying them all,” he said. “I’m getting no response. It’s like they shut down all their comm systems.”
“The Reapers,” Kai Leng declared. “They found some way to block transmissions so nobody can warn them.”
“How close are we to the Academy?” Kahlee wanted to know.
“Two relay jumps,” Anderson informed her. “I can have us there inside of three hours if I push the engines.”
“Push them,” Kahlee told him.
Grayson’s shuttle decelerated from FTL speed only a few thousand kilometers from the Grissom Academy. At this range it wasn’t necessary to use the comm buoy network to send a message; he was able to hail them directly.
Grayson knew Kahlee hadn’t told anyone else at the Academy the truth about him. Convinced he had truly rejected Cerberus and was trying to turn his life around, she hadn’t seen any purpose in poisoning his reputation. She’d also left him an open invitation to come visit her, though he’d never followed up on it.
The Reapers had discovered all this back on Omega while probing Grayson’s mind for information about Kahlee. Now they were going to use what they had learned to gain access to the files of the Ascension Project.
“Grissom Academy, this is Paul Grayson. Do you copy?”
“Copy, Grayson,” a voice came back over the intercom. “Long time no see.”
Grayson didn’t recognize the guard’s voice, which meant the Reapers didn’t either. But it wasn’t unusual to have the guards remember him, even though two years had passed since Gillian had been part of the Ascension Project. While working for Cerberus, Grayson had played the role of a wealthy parent and frequent benefactor to the Academy, and Gillian had been one of the more unique students at the facility. Any visit from her father was likely to stand out in the minds of the staff.
“I tried to let you know I was coming, but the message wouldn’t go through,” the Reapers lied.
“All our network connections are snafued,” came the reply. “Haven’t been able to link in for the last four hours. We’re in a grade-two lockdown until the techs get it fixed.”
The Reapers picked through Grayson’s memories, reaching back to the days when Gillian was still attending the Academy. A grade-two lockdown was a relatively minor security precaution. Normally parents could visit their children at the Academy at any time, but in a grade-two lockdown they needed to get clearance from someone on staff.
“Kahlee Sanders told me to meet her here,” the Reapers explained, spinning a story out of the bits and pieces they had drawn from their host. “She’s supposed to arrive in the next hour or so. I’m guessing you didn’t get the message.”
“Affirmative. Like I said, nothing from the comm network for the last four hours.”
“I know it’s against protocol,” the Reapers said, “but is there any chance you’d let me dock my shuttle and wait for her on board the station? I’d like to get out and stretch my legs. It’s getting a little cramped in here.”
There was a brief hesitation before the reply, probably the guard checking with one of his superiors. Grayson prayed they would deny the request.
“Sure thing,” the guard’s voice chimed a few seconds later, and Grayson knew the unsuspecting young man had just signed his own death warrant. “Bring it around to bay three. But you’ll have to wait in the security clearance area until Miss Sanders arrives.”
“Roger that. Much appreciated.”
Grayson’s fingers flew effortlessly over the pilot’s interface as the Reapers brought the shuttle around to align with one of the landing pads of the exterior docking bay. It touched down with only the faintest bump. Unlike the docks of Omega, here there was no mass effect field separating the Grissom Academy from space. Arrivals had to wait for one of the covered docking platforms to connect to the vessel’s airlock in order to enter the station.
While waiting for the docking platform to get into position, the Reapers had Grayson rise from the pilot’s seat and dig out the emergency kit stashed beneath his chair. He noticed that despite the fact that all his recent injuries were completely healed, he was moving much slower now. It had been several hours since the Reapers’ frantic rush to escape Omega; obviously that hadn’t been enough time to fully recover.
Inside the emergency kit was a knife with a long, heavy blade. The Reapers tucked this into the front of his belt before making their way toward the back of the vessel.
He could sense them picking through his mind for details about the security of the station. Technically, the Grissom Academy was a school, not a military base. But there were still enough security staff on-site—not to mention the biotic instructors of the Ascension Program—to pose a legitimate threat to the Reapers in their weakened and vulnerable state. Unable to simply overpower their enemies with irresistible biotic displays or incredible physical prowess and martial skill, they would need to rely on subterfuge and stealth to achieve their goals.
He couldn’t say for sure whether the Reapers had selected this particular vessel during their escape from Omega in anticipation of this eventuality, though he knew it was possible. But by design or chance, they had ended up taking a standard passenger shuttle. Given their familiarity with the turian vessel they’d hijacked at the Cerberus lab, Grayson wondered if the Reapers simply had an affinity for that particular species.
In the back of the vessel was a sleeping cabin, with an assortment of clothes hanging in a small closet. The Reapers rummaged through the collection, looking for anything that could effectively cover Grayson’s unnatural appearance and conceal the knife from the guards.
From the cut and style of the garments, it was clear the owner of the shuttle had been turian—unsurprising given the make of the ship itself. None of the pieces would fit Grayson in a way that could hide what he had become.
There was a soft chime from the overhead intercom, indicating the docking platform had connected with the shuttle’s airlock.
Realizing the disguise had to last only long enough for them to get through the docking bay’s security doors, the Reapers whisked the cover off the bed. As if it were a shawl, they draped the blanket over the back of Grayson’s head, neck, and shoulders like a cape. Pulling the open sides at the front together and tucking the material beneath his chin left only his eyes and face exposed, peering out from a small opening in the formless tent of material.
As the Reapers passed through the shuttle’s airlock and made their way slowly along the covered docking platform, Grayson speculated on what might happen to his new form if it was exposed to the unforgiving environment of space. Did the Reapers even need his organic systems to continue functioning anymore? He had seen ample evidence they were capable of repairing damaged organic tissue at an incredible rate, but at this point the cybernetics were so deeply ingrained in his body he felt as if he was more machine than man. As their avatar, could he somehow survive without oxygen in the freezing temperatures outside the docking platform?
He knew he was far from indestructible. But if his lungs and heart shut down while the synthetic network woven into the synapses of his brain remained undamaged, could the Reapers continue to animate his body? Or might there be a point where massive damage to the life-giving systems of the physical shell would cause them to finally abandon their host?
If the Reapers were aware of his speculations, they gave no sign. Perhaps they simply didn’t care. They had absolute control of his physical form, and they had no intention of doing anything but plodding slowly along the ramp, swaddled in their bedspread cowl.
