Mass Effect™: Retribution (18 page)

Fortunately their guide was setting a brisk pace, and they soon left the horrors of the docking bay behind. He wove his way down the corridors and halls of the Cerberus space station. The signs of battle—bloodstains on the walls and floor, scorch marks and scoring from the ammo—were still clearly visible.

Passing by an open door, Kahlee caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye.

“Wait,” she called. “Hold on a second. What’s that room back there?”

Their guide stopped and turned around slowly. It was clear he didn’t like taking orders from a human. But Orinia had promised Anderson the turians on the station would cooperate with them, and he wasn’t about to disobey his superior.

“It’s some kind of operating theater,” he answered.

“I want to see it.”

The guide nodded, and Kahlee and Anderson went into the room. The turian scientists followed them, their own curiosity piqued as well.

The room was stark and utilitarian. A bright lamp hung down from the ceiling in the center. Beneath it was a gurney fitted with leather restraints. The straps and the gurney were stained with dried blood, as was the floor around it.

“They didn’t use an anesthetic,” Kahlee muttered, feeling sick to her stomach.

Medical equipment on wheels had been pushed up against the far wall. Some of it Kahlee recognized from her work with the Ascension program: an EEG monitor; an endoscope; a cranial drill. Other, more sinister-looking machines she could only guess the purpose of.

She gave each piece a quick examination, trying to get a feel for what it might have been used for. At the same time she struggled not to picture Grayson screaming as he was subjected to the bizarre medical tortures.

Once she was done, she and the rest of the group went back out into the hall, where the guide was waiting.

“I need to see where Grayson was being held,” she said.

“We have to go through the lab,” he told her. “Follow me.”

They continued through the station until they reached what was obviously the station’s primary research lab. There was a large bank of computer terminals in the center of the room. Several of the terminals had turians sitting at them, doing their best to hack through the layers of security on the system.

The process of analyzing what Cerberus had been up to was threefold. First the encrypted data had to be carefully extracted from the databases. Then it had to be decrypted. Finally, it would be analyzed by Kahlee and the other scientists.

One of the techs was walking around the room
from terminal to terminal, coordinating the work of the data extraction team.

“You must be Dr. Sanders,” he said, extending his hand. “My name is Sato Davaria.”

Kahlee shook his hand, as did Anderson.

“Admiral David Anderson,” he said by way of introduction.

“An honor to meet you, sir,” the turian replied with genuine sincerity.

The turians were a military society; it wasn’t surprising that someone with as distinguished a service career as Anderson would be known by reputation.

“I need to see where Grayson was held,” Kahlee said.

Sato looked over at their guide, who nodded to indicate he should comply with her request.

“This way,” he said, taking them through a small door at the rear of the lab. The other scientists promptly fell in line behind them; at some point they had obviously decided to defer to Kahlee, at least for now.

The door led into an observation room. There was a large window in the far wall—probably one-way glass—overlooking a sparsely furnished prison cell below. The only other exit from the observation room was a small spiraling staircase leading down.

Sato led them down the stairs and into a small hall that terminated at the door to the cell. Kahlee pushed it open and stepped inside.

An unpleasant smell lingered in the stale air—a mixture of sweat, urine, and excrement. There was a small cot in one corner and a toilet in another. A shelf of bottled water and rations had been built into one
of the walls. Several of the ration kits were scattered about the floor.

“No sink. No mirror. No shower,” Kahlee noted. “They were treating him like an animal. Trying to dehumanize him.”

“He was naked when he was discovered,” Sato confirmed.

“Let’s go back upstairs,” Kahlee said. “I want to see what you’ve pulled from the data banks so far.”

“We’re making progress,” Sato explained as they climbed the stairs, “but it’s slow going.

“So far it looks like there was only one test subject in the whole facility. We’ve decrypted what could be preliminary results from the experiment. But our job is just to pull it out. You’re the ones who have to determine what it all means.”

When they reached the lab again, Sato took a seat at one of the open terminals. He started flipping through screens until he found the files he was looking for. Reaching out, he tapped the haptic interface, causing the data to balloon up so that all the hovering screens were suddenly filled with an assortment of charts, graphs, and raw numerical data.

He got up from the chair so Kahlee could sit down, then stood over her shoulder as she began to flip through the data. Anderson came over to stand by her other shoulder, showing his support.

“See this chart here,” she said, touching one of the screens so that it expanded and moved to the forefront of the display. “This is the kind of thing we track on kids recently fitted with biotic amplifiers.”

“What does that mean?” Anderson asked.

“It confirms the theory that Cerberus implanted
Grayson with something. Possibly some kind of experimental cybernetics.”

She continued to glance over the data, then stopped when she recognized something else, the cold chill of an old memory creeping down her spine.

“I’ve seen this before, too,” she said softly. “Advanced AI research. The same kind of thing Dr. Qian was working on back at Sidon.”

“Are you sure?” Anderson wanted to know.

“I’m sure.”

“This must have something to do with the Reapers,” Anderson said.

Unfamiliar with the name, Kahlee asked, “Who are the Reapers?”

Anderson hesitated, as if he was gathering his thoughts. Or maybe wondering how much he could say.

“They’re a species of massive, hyperintelligent starships trapped in the void of dark space. They wiped out the Protheans fifty thousand years ago. Now they’re looking for a way to return so they can wipe out all intelligent organic life again.”

Kahlee blinked in surprise. “I’ve never heard anything remotely like that before in my life.”

“I know how crazy it sounds,” Anderson admitted. “But it’s true. When Saren led the geth army against the Citadel, they weren’t following him. They were answering to the Reapers. Saren was just an agent under his control.”

“Saren Arterius was a traitor,” Sato interjected, his voice sharp and bitter. “Don’t try to excuse his actions with some crazy story.”

Kahlee knew Saren was a sore point for the turians.
Though he was once revered as a hero of his people, his betrayal had made him a source of shame for the species. But Anderson had no love for him, either. He had no reason to mention this unless he believed it.

“If this is true,” she said, still trying to wrap her head around the idea, “then why haven’t I ever heard of it before? It should have been all over the vids.”

“The Council suppressed the story. They said there was no real evidence, and they didn’t want to cause mass panic. But I worked with Commander Shepard. I saw the uncensored reports. The Reapers are real.”

“It’s still a hell of a leap to trace this all back to Qian,” Kahlee noted.

“You told me Qian had become obsessed with some kind of ancient, hyperadvanced AI technology. I think he found something connected to the Reapers. Saren must have gotten his hands on it during our mission to Camala.”

“Okay. But I still don’t see the connection with Cerberus.”

“A few months ago, Cerberus learned the Collectors were abducting humans from remote colonies in the Terminus Systems so they could conduct horrific experiments on them.

“Cerberus stopped the Collectors, and they discovered they were working for the Reapers … just like Saren!”

“How do you know all this?” Sato demanded.

“I’ve seen the mission reports,” Anderson assured them. “I’ve talked to people who were there. I’m not making this up.

“Cerberus must have recovered some of the Reaper technology from the Collectors. That’s what they
were doing here—experimenting on Grayson the same way the Collectors were experimenting on the colonists!”

“This is ridiculous!” the tech declared, and the general murmur from the turian scientists in the room seemed to support him.

“Look at the files,” Anderson insisted. “You’ll see I’m right.”

Everyone turned to Kahlee, waiting for her opinion on the matter. She wasn’t going to condemn Anderson’s theory, but she wasn’t ready to support it yet. Not without further evidence either way.

“The files will tell us the truth,” she reminded them. “But whatever Cerberus was up to here, we need to figure it out.”

Kai Leng wasn’t worried about being recognized as he made his way through the twisting thoroughfares of Omega. The last time he had been here his appearance had been carefully altered. This time, as per the Illusive Man’s instructions, he wasn’t wearing a disguise.

Still, he was wary. Though he appeared calm on the surface, his senses had entered a state of hyperawareness. It was always a good idea to be on the lookout for trouble when visiting Omega. The lawless station was overrun with mercenaries and criminals; every encounter had the potential to suddenly erupt into violence.

Kai Leng glared at a pair of batarians approaching him, his eyes burning into them, sizing them up as potential threats. The four-eyed freaks noticed him staring. He could see a moment of indecision in their eyes: was this a threat worth confronting, or one they should just walk away from? In the end they made the right choice and crossed over to the other side of the street.

When the Illusive Man had first told him of his latest
assignment, Kai Leng had expressed his skepticism.

“I don’t think Aria T’Loak is a fan of Cerberus.”

“She’s a businesswoman,” the Illusive Man had assured him. “At the very least she’ll listen to our offer.”

“And if she refuses?”

“We’re not looking for a fight,” the Illusive Man had reminded him. “We’re trying to form a partnership.

“I need someone I can trust for this mission,” he’d continued. “Just say and do everything exactly like I told you and it will all work out.”

Kai Leng rounded the corner and came in sight of Afterlife. As was typical, the line to get in stretched down the block before disappearing around the corner. He had no intention of waiting in the queue, however.

Marching up to the krogan bouncer at the entrance, he declared, “I need to see Aria T’Loak.”

“Name?” the krogan asked, ready to relay it to someone inside for confirmation that he was expected.

“I’m not on the list,” Kai Leng admitted.

“Then you don’t get in.”

A pair of thousand-credit chips suddenly appeared in the assassin’s hand. He reached over and pressed them into the krogan’s massive palm.

“You can’t bribe your way into Afterlife,” the krogan declared with a deep laugh, extending his hand to return the credits to Kai Leng.

“Tell her I have information about a man named Paul Grayson,” Kai Leng insisted, refusing to take the
money back. “She might know him as Paul Johnson,” he added.

The krogan’s eyes narrowed to thin slits, but he did reach up to activate the transmitter built into the collar of his suit.

“Relay a message to Aria,” he said to someone inside the club. “Some human here to see her about Paul Grayson. Or maybe it’s Paul Johnson. He’s not on the list.”

There was about thirty seconds of silence as they waited for a response. Then the krogan’s eyes went wide as he heard the orders coming from the other end.

“Yeah. Right. I’ll send him right in.”

He turned back to the waiting human. “Aria’s sending someone to meet you. Head inside to the claim check.”

Once again he offered the credits back to Kai Leng.

“Keep them,” he told the bouncer, following the Illusive Man’s orders to try and make a favorable impression.

The krogan shook his massive head. “Aria says you’re to be comped for everything tonight. Including door fees.”

Kai Leng took the credits back and slipped them into his pocket, then made his way down a short hall to the claim check. In addition to the two armed krogan and the pair of whorish asari behind the counter whom he’d seen here on a previous visit, a batarian was waiting at the checkpoint to greet him.

“Put all weapons on the counter,” he insisted.

“I thought patrons were allowed to be armed inside the club,” Kai Leng protested.

“Not if you want a personal meeting with Aria,” the batarian replied.

Kai Leng hesitated, reluctant to leave himself vulnerable while walking into a veritable lion’s den.

“You could always put your name on the list and come back after we run some background checks on you,” the batarian mocked. “Should only take a week or two.”

Kai Leng placed his pistol and knife on the counter. One of the asari took his weapons away and disappeared into the back. The other handed him a claim ticket and flashed him a lurid wink. Kai Leng ignored her.

“Stand still for the body scan,” one of the krogan grumbled.

Once he was cleared, the batarian led him into the club. He pushed his way through the crowd, parting the way before them. Kai Leng was glad he didn’t have to squeeze through the stinking, sweating bodies of the alien patrons himself.

The club was much as Kai Leng remembered: a den of disgusting filth, with drunk and stoned individuals from every species gyrating against each other on overcrowded dance floors to the relentless beat of uninspired techno music.

They climbed the staircase to the upper level, where the music’s volume was at least bearable and the crowds were somewhat tolerable. The batarian led him across the club to where Aria T’Loak was sitting at a table in an elevated booth.