Mass effect, p.86
Mass Effect, page 86
Even so, the force of it was sufficient to topple the people to either side of McCann, making it appear that the fugitive had tripped and taken the others down with him. By the time McCann was back on his feet Gillian and Hendel were there to stop him. “What’s the big hurry, Hal?” Gillian demanded. “It isn’t nice to leave without saying good-bye. Especially since you’d be working in a mine if it wasn’t for us.”
“I’m not a slave,” McCann objected. “I can go wherever I please.”
“True,” Gillian said soothingly. “Or at least it will be true. After we visit my friends. They knew my father and they’re familiar with Cerberus. So I think it’s safe to say that they’d love to hear your story. Then, once everyone is up to speed, you’ll be allowed to leave. Okay?”
McCann dusted his clothes off. He looked resentful. “Okay.”
“And one more thing,” Gillian added. “If you try to run I will pick you up and slam you into a wall. After that Hendel will smash your knees. So save yourself some pain and come quietly.”
Gillian’s comments left Hendel feeling both proud and worried. Proud because of how confident she had become but worried because of the overriding anger that had taken control of her. Would he smash McCann’s leg if she ordered him to? Of course not. So was she bluffing? Or did Gillian believe that he would? Some counseling was in order, but Hendel knew it would have to wait. “Come on,” he said. “I know where Anderson and Kahlee live. We’ll surprise them.”
Anderson was sore—and for good reason. The batarian had gotten in some licks during their brief battle. And he was tired. Varma had held them for more than six hours while C-Sec investigators went over Banca’s blood-splattered office with a fine-toothed comb. Fortunately their findings were consistent with the narratives provided by Anderson, Kahlee, and Tark. All of whom claimed self-defense.
Meanwhile Varma, and an officer qualified to translate the nuances of batarian body language, had been interrogating Banca. The businessman was reluctant to cooperate at first. But when Varma showed him video of Narkin’s body being dumped into a lock, and threatened to put him in a cell with half a dozen Torcs, the batarian had a sudden change of heart.
Yes, Banca said, there had been three individuals, including a turian, a salarian, and a human. All bound for space station Omega. After paying with cash the biotics had been sealed into a specially designed cargo module. It was equipped with a life support system, cramped living area, and enough food for a short journey. A tray full of electronic components was on top of the compartment, directly under the lid. That was what customs agents would see if they opened the container. Not foolproof by any means, but sufficient to pass a cursory inspection. And with thousands of such modules arriving and departing each day, it was impossible to search each one of them.
So Anderson and Kahlee knew where they would have to go if they wanted to find Nick. But only after some planning and a good night’s sleep. And that was foremost in Anderson’s mind as Kahlee and he left a restaurant and went home. It had been dark for a while by then, so he didn’t recognize any of the people waiting outside the building until they got closer, and Kahlee uttered a whoop of joy. “Gillian? Is that you? And Hendel … You’re back! What a wonderful surprise.”
Anderson shook hands with Hendel as the women hugged each other and a third male looked uneasy. “This is Hal McCann,” Hendel said. “You won’t believe how we met!”
“I like a good story,” Anderson replied. “Come on, let’s get you in off the street. How long were you waiting? Are you hungry?”
“About half an hour,” Hendel replied. “And no, we had dinner just around the corner. We wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you sure as hell did,” Anderson said, as he held the front door open. “Welcome to the Citadel.”
* * *
Kai Leng was sitting at the kitchen table eating take-out food when the alarm began to buzz. The makeshift monitoring station was on the other side of the room. So he took his plate and went over to watch. The system incorporated motion detectors that selected which camera shots to record unless he took control. So as Leng stood there, spooning salarian curry into his mouth, he saw what he expected to see. Anderson entered the apartment first followed by Kahlee. The angle was from high up in a corner, which meant Leng had a good view of the door, and most of the living room.
Then something unexpected happened. Rather than close the door behind herself Kahlee stood off to one side and held it open. And that was when Hal McCann entered, followed by another man, and Paul Grayson’s daughter! That was very surprising because McCann was dead. Or supposed to be, having been killed in the battle for the Cerberus space station, and disposed of by the turians.
The fact that McCann had survived was good news, or so it seemed to Leng, who’d been friendly with the man. But where had he been since the battle? And why was he on the Citadel? Leng put the bowl on the desk and sat down. A quick check confirmed that the auto record function was on.
The audio had a hollow quality but could easily be understood. There were three cameras in the living room. Leng took command of the system, which allowed him to zoom in and out. “Find a place to sit,” Anderson said. “I’ll get some drinks. We have a lot of catching up to do. Who wants to go first?”
Leng watched with interest as Gillian described the first part of the voyage on the Idenna, followed by the battle with the batarians, and the freeing of the slaves. Anderson and Kahlee were clearly fascinated. But McCann seemed to be nervous. Why? He knew how the story would end after all—which was happily for him. Or was there something more? Something McCann hadn’t told Gillian? Yes, Leng thought to himself, Hal is in a jam.
“So,” Gillian concluded, “once Hal told us that my father had been killed I wanted to learn more. Plus there was a shipload of slaves to consider, all of whom wanted to make their way back to civilization. So we came here. And I asked Hal to stick with us until we could meet with you. He has quite a story to tell. Don’t you, Hal?”
Leng thought he could detect an ominous undertone to the question and watched McCann start to fidget. The story he told about his activities on the Cerberus space station and the turian attack was stripped to the bone. And Leng knew why. McCann didn’t want Gillian to learn the truth, which was that he’d been a key member of the experimental lab team, and was partially responsible for the way in which Grayson’s body had been modified.
Kahlee looked at Anderson as McCann completed his story and then to Gillian. “I’m so sorry, honey … But David and I know who killed your father and why. As you may or may not know, the head of Cerberus is called ‘the Illusive Man.’ He performed experiments on your father, but your father managed to escape, and went to the academy. We aren’t entirely sure why … He may have been forced to do so by the Reapers as part of an effort to gather information about our most promising biotics. There was a terrible fight—and a Cerberus assassin shot your father.”
Tears were rolling down Gillian’s face. “But you killed him, right?”
“No,” Anderson answered. “We didn’t. I didn’t. But I could have and I should have. And for that I apologize.”
But you shot me in both legs, Leng thought bitterly. And you will pay.
“Remember,” Kahlee cautioned. “The assassin was a tool. The Illusive Man is the real killer.”
Gillian wiped the tears away. “Then I need to find him. Where is he?”
“Nobody knows,” Anderson said, “unless Hal can tell us. How ’bout it? Did the Illusive Man have a hidey-hole? A place to run to?”
McCann shook his head. “You know where I’ve been … Besides, that sort of information was way above my pay grade.”
“Then we’ve got to focus on finding him,” Gillian said as her chin quivered. “Then I’ll kill him.”
“That isn’t realistic,” Anderson said. “He’s very well protected. And as important as destroying Cerberus is, there’s something even more urgent to work on. And that’s the need to stop the Reapers. The problem is the Council believes the threat has been dealt with. Maybe they should hear from Hal here.”
McCann looked very uncomfortable but never got the chance to respond because Gillian was on her feet by then. “No! The Illusive Man is responsible for my father’s death and I’m going to find him.”
“Wait,” Hendel said. “Let’s talk about this.”
But it was too late. Gillian was on her way out by then. Hendel stood as if to follow her but Kahlee held up a hand. “Let her go. She’s upset and for good reason. Later, after she walks it off, she’ll listen to reason.”
That suggestion was followed by an uncomfortable silence that McCann broke by getting to his feet. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave now.”
Kahlee frowned. “He works for Cerberus. Maybe we should call C-Sec.”
“And then what?” Hendel asked cynically. “The only proof we have is what McCann told us. And what’s to keep him from changing his story?”
“What indeed?” Leng said out loud, as McCann made for the front door. “What indeed?”
SOMEWHERE IN THE CRESCENT NEBULA
The Illusive Man watched as a pale moon parted company with the jagged horizon and began another arc across the star-dusted sky. The satellite had been captured by the planet’s gravitational pull millions of years earlier and been held prisoner ever since. The relationship was, he thought, somewhat analogous to the situation confronting the human race. They too had been forced to orbit something larger, in this case a galaxy-spanning society they couldn’t control yet were increasingly affected by. So much so that he was beginning to wonder if the Systems Alliance, the organization that represented all of the human colonies in Citadel space, was truly human anymore.
The process of integration was often held up as a virtue. But the price for integration was compromise—thousands of small, seemingly innocuous concessions, agreements, and “understandings” that combined to erode humanity’s independence. And that was what made the situation so urgent. If Cerberus failed to act quickly enough the very thing it was created to save would be subsumed.
The Illusive Man’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a tone. He swiveled to the right and the image of a heavily disguised Kai Leng blossomed in front of him. The background was out of focus. “I have a surprise for you.”
The Illusive Man selected a cigarette from the case. “What kind of surprise?”
“Hal McCann is alive.”
The Illusive Man lit the tube of tobacco and took the smoke deep into his lungs. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. He showed up on the Citadel along with Grayson’s daughter and the ex-security chief from the Grissom Academy. They met with David Anderson and Kahlee Sanders. I have all of it on a chip.”
“Play it.” The Illusive Man considered a dozen scenarios as he watched Gillian, McCann, and the rest of them interact. His mind was made up by the time the playback was over. “Unfortunately McCann has a self-admitted gambling addiction. It’s just a matter of time before he gets into some sort of trouble. At that point he may or may not surface in front of the Council. They could use him to discredit Cerberus.”
A brief moment of silence ensued. There was no discernible expression on Leng’s face. But the Illusive Man had known the operative for a long time by then and recognized the slight tightness around Leng’s eyes and a certain rigidity to the way he held his head. “You were friends as I recall … Should I have someone else handle the sanction?”
“We had drinks together a couple of times. And played cards on the station. ‘Friends’ is too strong a word.”
The Illusive Man blew a stream of smoke out toward the holo. The picture shivered. “So you’re willing?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That brings us to Grayson’s daughter Gillian. On the one hand she seems like a somewhat overwrought teenager who is mourning her father. As such she deserves our patience and understanding.
“However,” the Illusive Man continued as he tapped some ash into a tray, “passion is a very dangerous thing. Take your case for example. The Alliance arrested you for killing a krogan in a bar fight. A krogan for god’s sake … With a knife. They should have given you a medal. Instead they sent you off to prison. And the injustice of that made you so passionate about the human cause that you were transformed from the equivalent of raw ore into a finished blade. So in considering Gillian’s fate it’s important to look beyond what she is to what she might become. And that is someone dangerous.”
“Understood.”
“So,” the Illusive Man said, “enough about McCann and the girl. You were given a task.… Where is Grayson’s body?”
A less confident operative might have flinched or offered a host of excuses. But not Leng. “I don’t have control of it yet.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“I’ll work on it.”
“See that you do. So long as the Council has custody of the body they can use it against us. Difficult days lay ahead. Our credibility will be important. And Kai …”
“Yes?”
“I’m told that you’re using a cane. Take care of that leg.”
The holo collapsed and the Illusive Man smiled grimly. The closing comment had been calculated to let Leng know that even he was subject to surveillance and to demonstrate that the head of Cerberus valued him. Because it is, the Illusive Man thought to himself, important to be human.
For the first time in her life Gillian felt free. Because for as long as she could remember she had been a captive. First of the Grissom Academy then of the quarian fleet. Now, having walked out on her minders she could do whatever she wanted. Even if Hendel and Kahlee disagreed with it.
But they weren’t entirely wrong. Gillian knew that. The Illusive Man would be well protected. Just as they said he would be. But that was a problem which could be solved by taking her already considerable biotic powers and enhancing them further. It would take money of course, and fortunately Gillian had some. There was a large safe in the batarian slave ship. And after two failed attempts she’d been able to hack it, thereby gaining access to a stash of Beryllium slugs. Each of them weighed about one hundred grams and was worth a thousand credits. Most of the find was apportioned out to the Idenna’s crew, including Gillian, and the rest had been given to the freed slaves.
Gillian’s first task therefore was to choose a supplier. A first-rate manufacturer with the resources to amp her overall effectiveness by at least ten percent. With nowhere else to go she checked into a boxtel. It was noisier than she preferred, but finally began to quiet down around 1:00 a.m., allowing her to fall asleep.
When morning came, and she awoke, it was to a renewed sense of purpose. Gillian took a shower, left the boxtel, and ate breakfast in a small cafe. From there it was onto a public shuttle and off to visit the high-rise building where the asari-sponsored Armali Council was quartered. The council represented a number of manufacturing guilds, one of which was dedicated to making and installing what many considered to be the finest biotic implants available in the galaxy.
Having exited the shuttle Gillian walked a short distance to the building and paused to look up. The structure was hundreds of feet tall and looked like a cluster of crystal shafts. They were of various lengths and joined together at the center.
The high-rise made Gillian feel small. But she gathered her courage, made her way up a flight of stairs, and followed a turian inside. The lobby was huge. An asari stood behind a slightly curved reception counter. Gillian thought of herself as homely and wondered what it was like to be so beautiful. The receptionist smiled politely. “Can I help you?”
“I would like to talk to a member of the Biotics Guild about acquiring some new implants.”
The expression on the asari’s face changed fractionally as if she was looking at Gillian in a new light. “Of course. Please proceed to the twelfth floor. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”
An elevator carried Gillian and half a dozen other people up past transparent offices to the twelfth floor. An asari in a sleek ankle-length lab coat was waiting to greet her. “Welcome to the Biotics Guild. My name is Nomi E’Lan. And you are?”
“Gillian Grayson.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I understand that you’re interested in acquiring an upgrade. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“And you are a level?”
“Three.”
“Excellent. Please follow me. The first step is to take readings on the implants you have now.”
That made sense so Gillian allowed herself to be steered down a hall and into a well-equipped lab. “Please step behind the screen and remove your clothes,” E’Lan said. “Then I’d like you to lay facedown on the table.”
Like most biotics Gillian had a port in the back of her neck that could be used to access the tiny amplifiers that were located throughout her nervous system. They functioned to create the mass effect fields that enabled Gillian to manipulate dark energy. And some implants were better than others. So it wasn’t unusual for biotics to buy upgrades when they could afford to do so.
Once on the table, with her hair pulled to one side, Gillian gritted her teeth as a probe was inserted into her neck port. There was a brief moment of pain, followed by a tingling sensation, and some involuntary muscle contractions as electronic impulses were sent to various parts of her body. Then E’Lan pressed small paddles against the points where implants had been inserted so that a computer could measure the amount of resistance in between them. The diagnostic process continued for about five minutes before the needlelike instrument was withdrawn from Gillian’s neck port. “Okay,” E’Lan said, “you can get dressed now. I have what I need. Thank you.”
