Mass Effect™: Retribution (32 page)

She was about to call out to him when Grayson suddenly came barreling through the door. Anderson fired with the shotgun, but the bullets were repelled
by a shimmering biotic barrier. Grayson thrust his fist out and a rippling biotic wave rolled down the hall.

Her brain had just enough time to register Anderson hurtling backward in her direction as if he had been fired from a cannon before the wave struck her, too. Fortunately, she was far enough away to be spared the brunt of the concussive impact; much of the energy had dissipated, and she was only knocked off her feet. But Anderson had been much closer to Grayson when the power was unleashed, and had been hurtled a good twenty meters before landing in a crumpled heap beside her.

Kahlee grunted in pain as she had to use her fingers to struggle back up. At her feet, Anderson didn’t move or make a sound. Before she could check on him, however, Grayson was standing in front of her, pointing a pair of pistols in her face.

Grayson knew the Reapers were going to kill Kahlee, and there was nothing he could do about it. They had locked him inside his own body, helpless to affect the physical world.

In desperation, he tried one last time to exert his influence over the alien machines controlling him, in what he realized might quite possibly be the final act of free will before they devoured him completely. But instead of struggling for physical control, he threw all his energy into projecting a single thought:
Kahlee is too useful to kill
.

He didn’t know if his gambit worked, but he suddenly felt the Reapers pawing through his mind, digging up everything he knew about Kahlee Sanders.
Not even knowing if it was possible, he tried to direct and influence their search.

She knows more about the Ascension Project than anyone else. She’s studied the children for years. She’s analyzed the data from every conceivable angle. She’s one of the most brilliant scientific minds in the galaxy. She’s worth far more alive than dead
.

Instead of squeezing the trigger, the Reapers tucked one pistol into Grayson’s belt. With their free hand they grabbed Kahlee by the forearm in a viselike grip, causing her to gasp in pain.

“Come with me,” they said, dragging her away.

Kahlee didn’t argue as Grayson seized her by the arm and led her off down the hall. He seemed to have forgotten all about Anderson, as if he had suddenly become entirely focused on her and her alone.

She had no way to know if Anderson was still alive as they left his motionless body behind and marched back up the hall, but she wasn’t about to draw attention to the possibility that he might be.

Once they had rounded the corner and Anderson was out of sight, she dared to speak.

“Grayson, please—I know what’s happening to you. I want to help you.”

“Grayson is gone,” the man pulling her along replied.

They were moving so fast he was practically carrying her, her feet scuffling along the floor in a desperate attempt to keep up and take pressure off her arm.

“Slow down! You’re hurting me.”

To her surprise, they did slow down. Just a fraction,
but enough so that she was able to keep pace. In her mind, there was only one possible explanation: somewhere, deep inside the abomination manhandling her down the Grissom Academy halls, a tiny part of Grayson still lived.

David Anderson’s return to consciousness was not pleasant.

It began with a sharp, stabbing pain in his left side that flared up intensely with every breath. His mind wasn’t thinking clearly yet; it couldn’t quite remember where he was or how he’d got here. But his soldier’s training allowed him to focus on the pain and try to make a self-diagnosis.

Broken ribs. Collapsed lung
.

Neither condition was fatal, but either would definitely slow him down. He rolled gingerly onto his back and tried to assess the extent of the damage by reaching up to feel around with his right hand. The simple motion nearly caused him to black out.

Fractured collarbone. Possible dislocated shoulder
.

He felt like he’d been hit by a high-speed monorail.

Or one hell of a biotic push
.

Everything came back to him in a flash. He didn’t know how long he’d been out or why Grayson hadn’t finished him off, but he was still alive. And that counted for something.

Come on, soldier. On your feet
.

Trying not to twist, which would aggravate his
ribs, and careful not to jar his arm, which would set off his collarbone, he tried to get to his feet … only to fall back hard to the floor as the torn ligaments in his left ankle collapsed under his weight.

As he hit the ground, he was swallowed up in waves of pain so intense they made him vomit inside his helmet. The reflexive spasm of his stomach caused his broken ribs to scream out, which started a coughing fit that squeezed his collapsed lung even tighter, making it feel like he was being strangled by someone inside his chest.

Knowing that the only way to stop the chain of injuries from setting each other off like toppling dominoes was to lie still, Anderson somehow forced his body to quit writhing despite the throbbing pain in his ankle, chest, and shoulder.

He opened his lips and took several slow, shallow breaths, ignoring the foul taste of his last meal that coated his mouth. As bad as the taste was, however, the stench inside his helmet was worse.

When the excruciating pain finally subsided to a dull agony, he very slowly took his one good arm and unbuckled his helmet, letting it fall to the floor beside him. Fighting the urge to take deep, greedy gasps of the clean air, he very carefully maneuvered himself up into a sitting position.

Using the nearby wall for support, he managed to stand up, keeping all his weight on his right leg. He spotted his shotgun on the floor a few meters away.

The enviro-suit was releasing a steady trickle of medi-gel into his system. It was regulated to keep the doses small; too much of the wonder drug and he’d slip into unconsciousness. The limited doses weren’t
enough to heal his injuries, but did make it easier for him to cope with the pain.

With slow, careful steps, he made his way over to pick up the shotgun, wincing each time he put weight on his injured foot. He was able to hold it with his injured arm. The weight of the weapon pulling down in his grasp caused jolts of pain to shoot through his broken collarbone, but he had no other way to carry it. Not when he needed his good hand to help support his weight against the wall.

Gritting his teeth, he hobbled down the hall in the direction of the landing port, hoping to catch up to Grayson before he escaped. The collapsed lung limited him to short, shallow breaths, making his creeping pace as exhausting as an all-out sprint.

It wasn’t long before the painkillers coursing through his body were going into overdrive, staving off shock and giving him a nice little buzz as well.

Stay focused, soldier. No R and R until the mission is done
.

Kahlee was trying to think of a way to reach Grayson. When she’d tried to appeal to him directly, the Reapers had shut him down. But when she’d asked the Reapers to go slower, Grayson had been able to exert some kind of subtle influence over them. It almost seemed as if making the Reapers focus on something external loosened their hold on Grayson, allowing him some limited type of freedom.

“Why are you here?” Kahlee asked. “What do you want from us?”

She wasn’t sure if the Reapers would even reply. All she was hoping for was that she might be able to engage
the Reapers enough to give Grayson a fighting chance. A fighting chance to do what, however, she couldn’t say.

“We seek salvation,” Grayson said, much to her surprise. “Ours and yours.”

“Salvation? Is that what the Collectors were doing? Saving those human colonists? Is that what you did to Grayson?”

“He has been repurposed. He has evolved into something greater than a random assortment of cells and organic refuse.”

“That randomness is what made him unique,” Kahlee countered. “It made him special.”

She noticed that their pace had become more measured and deliberate. If Grayson was still inside there, if he had any influence at all, he was using it to slow the Reapers down. He was trying to buy her time to escape. The best thing she could do was try to keep them talking.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone? Why can’t you just let us live our lives in peace?”

“We are the keepers of the cycle. The creators and the destroyers. Your existence is a flicker, a spark. We can extinguish it—or we can preserve it. Submit to us and we can make you immortal.”

“I don’t want to be immortal,” she said. “I just want to be me.”

They were barely moving at all now. Grayson had managed to bring their hurried escape from the Academy down to a crawl.

“Organic life lives, dies, and is forgotten. You cannot fully comprehend anything beyond this. Yet there is a realm of existence beyond your understanding.”

There was something odd about the things Grayson was saying. She knew he was speaking on behalf of the Reapers, but it seemed like he—or they—actually wanted her to understand their position. It was like they were trying to persuade her to agree with them, but they didn’t know how to frame their arguments in a way she could relate to. Or maybe there simply was no way for organic beings to relate to hyperintelligent machines.

“We are the pinnacle of evolution,” they continued. “Yet we see potential in your species. You can be elevated. The weakness of organic flesh can be cast aside. You can transcend yourselves.”

The words didn’t really make any kind of compelling argument, but she felt as if there was some deeper meaning to them.

“Your understanding is limited by genetics. You cannot see beyond the brief instant of your own existence. Yet our knowledge is infinite, as are we.”

The more Grayson spoke, the more his words seemed to make sense on a deep, almost subconscious level.

“The laws of this universe are inviolate. Immutable. Your resistance will only lead to your extinction. What are—what we do—is inevitable.”

Kahlee was so far under the Reapers’s spell, she wasn’t even aware she was nodding along in agreement.

Kai Leng heard the voices coming from down the hall. They were faint, still too distant to decipher what was being said, but he recognized the tone of Grayson’s voice.

He reached out and put a hand on Nick’s shoulder, signaling him to stop. The boy hadn’t noticed the voices, and he turned and looked back up at Kai Leng with an inquiring stare. To his credit, he knew enough to keep quiet.

The assassin continued to listen, focusing on the distant voices until he was certain they were drawing closer. Then he pointed in the direction of a nearby dark office with an open door. The two went inside, and Kai Leng promptly closed the door and flicked on the light.

In a careful whisper he said, “I heard something down the hall. The kidnappers are coming this way.”

“What are we going to do?” Nick asked, his adolescent voice cracking with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“I think they’re heading back to the docking bays. They’re going to go right past us.”

Nick nodded to show he was following along so far.

“I don’t have a weapon, but you do,” Kai Leng continued. “If we wait here for them to pass by, will that let you build up enough energy to hit them with a blast powerful enough to take them out?”

“You mean kill them?” Nick asked in wonder.

“These are dangerous men,” Kai Leng warned him. “If we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us.”

“I’ve … I’ve never killed anybody before.”

Kai Leng nodded sympathetically. “That’s okay. I understand. It’s a lot to ask from someone your age. Maybe we should just hide and let them go by.”

“No,” Nick answered hastily. “I don’t want to hide. I can do this.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it? It’s not going to be easy.”

“I can do it,” Nick swore.

“Good. Here’s the plan. We wait in here with the door closed and the lights off until they pass by. Then I hit the panel and you jump out into the hall and hit them with everything you’ve got before they can turn around.”

“Isn’t that like stabbing them in the back or something?”

“This isn’t a game, Nick. There’s no such thing as playing fair.”

“Yeah. Okay. Right.”

“I’m going to turn out the light now. You ready for this?”

Nick nodded, and Kai Leng cast the room into darkness. At first it seemed there was no light at all, but after a few seconds their eyes began to pick up on the subtle illuminations from various sources around the room: the blinking message light on the office’s extranet terminal; illuminated power buttons on the computer console and video display screen; the ghostly green glow of the wall panel that indicated the door was unlocked. It wasn’t much, but it gave them just enough light to make out their own silhouettes in the gloom.

Kai Leng pressed his ear to the door and listened carefully. He could hear Grayson speaking; occasionally Kahlee’s voice would interject. He wouldn’t tell Nick about Kahlee—it might make him reluctant to launch his attack, and Kai Leng was more than willing to sacrifice her if it meant they had a chance to eliminate Grayson.

He looked over at Nick, and was surprised to see a tiny spark run the length of the young man’s neck. As he watched the teenager gather his power, the sparks became more plentiful as his body began to discharge the dark energy in tiny bursts.

It took them a long time to finally reach the door; they were moving far slower than Kai Leng would have imagined. Once they were past, he waited a few more seconds to let them get a few meters down the hall, then he hit the panel and jumped back out of the way.

Nick sprang into action, rushing out into the hall with a shrill scream of youthful rage.

The buildup of stored biotic charge was causing Nick actual physical discomfort. His teeth felt like they were chewing on tinfoil, his eyes itched, and he could hear a high-pitched hum in his ears. But it was worth it if it meant he had a chance to help stop the kidnappers and impress Miss Sanders.