Mass Effect: Revelation

by Drew Karpyshyn

  “So who’s the traitor?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

  “Dr. Qian. Isn’t it obvious?”

  Anderson couldn’t believe it. “You’re saying one of the most respected and influential scientists in the Alliance betrayed and helped murder his own handpicked team? Why?”

  “I already told you! He was afraid they’d shut the project down. He must have known I was going to report him. The only way he could keep studying that alien technology he discovered was to destroy Sidon and pin the blame on me!”

  “You really think he’d be willing to kill over this?” Anderson asked, still skeptical. “Over research?”

  “I told you he was obsessed, remember? It had some hold on him. It changed him. He…he’s not in his right mind.”

  She came over and dropped to one knee in front of him, her hands reaching out and clasping his.

  “I know it’s hard for you to believe me after everything I kept from you. But Qian was unstable. That’s why I decided to report him,” she explained.

  “I knew I was taking a risk,” she continued, “but I didn’t realize how serious things were until I heard the base had been destroyed. That’s when I saw how dangerous Dr. Qian had become, how far he’d go. I was terrified!”

  Her actions were completely justifiable, but Anderson didn’t want to hear it. Not right now. He stood up, pulling his hand from her grasp as he walked away to the far side of the room. He wanted to believe her, but the situation just seemed too implausible. Could a respected man of science and learning suddenly turn into the kind of monster that would slaughter his friends and coworkers over some piece of alien technology?

  “You said you had proof?” he asked, turning back to face her.

  She pulled out a small OSD and held it up. “I made backups of his personal files. In case I needed something to bargain with.” She tossed the disk to him; he caught it gingerly, afraid of damaging it. “Turn that over to the Alliance. It’ll prove I’m telling the truth.”

  “Why didn’t you just give me this before?”

  “I didn’t know if Qian was acting alone. He has so much power and influence in the Alliance: admirals, generals, ambassadors, politicians; he knows them all. If I gave you that disk and you turned it over to someone working with him…” She didn’t finish the thought. “That’s why I didn’t tell you, David. I had to be sure.”

  “Why now? What’s changed?”

  “You have people you trust in the Alliance. And I’ve finally decided I can trust you.”

  He slipped the disk into the breast pocket of his shirt and came back over to sit down beside her on the bed.

  “You also said you knew a way to figure out who Qian was working with.”

  “All his personal files from Sidon are on that disk,” she replied. “A lot of it is extra research notes. Stuff he kept to himself. I didn’t have a chance to hack into everything before I ran. But I made sure I grabbed all the financial records. Decrypt it and trace all the transactions back to the source and they’ll eventually lead to whoever funded this whole operation.”

  Anderson nodded appreciatively. “Just follow the money.”

  “Exactly.”

  They sat for a while in silence beside each other on the edge of the bed, neither one speaking, neither one pulling away. Anderson was the first to make a move…he stood up and went to grab his jacket.

  “We need to get this data to Ambassador Goyle,” he told her. “It’ll clear your name and tell us who Qian’s working with.”

  “Then what?” she asked, jumping up eagerly to grab her coat as well. “What do we do next?”

  “Then I’m going after whoever attacked Sidon. But you won’t be coming with me.”

  Kahlee stopped, one arm in the sleeve of her jacket. “What are you talking about?”

  He was still hurt that she hadn’t trusted him, but that wasn’t why he was doing this. His wounded feelings were his problem, not hers. She had just done whatever was necessary to survive this whole mess, and he couldn’t honestly blame her for any of it. It wasn’t her fault that he’d let himself become emotionally involved. But now it was his responsibility to make sure it didn’t happen again.

  “That krogan is still looking for you. We have to make arrangements to get you off this planet. Get you somewhere you’ll be safe.”

  “Wait a minute!” she protested angrily. “You can’t just leave me behind! Those were my friends who died in that attack! I have a right to see this through to the end!”

  “Things are going to get rough,” he told her. “You’re part of the Alliance, but we both know you’re no soldier. If you tag along, all you’ll do is slow me down or get in the way.”

  She glared at him, but clearly couldn’t think of anything to say to refute his argument.

  “You did your part,” he added, patting the pocket with the OSD. “Your job’s over now. But mine’s just beginning.”

  “This is unacceptable!” Dr. Shu Qian shouted.

  “These things take time,” Edan Had’dah replied, hoping to placate him. He’d been dreading this meeting all morning.

  “Time? Time for what? We aren’t doing anything!”

  “There’s a Spectre here on Camala! We have to wait until he gives up and leaves.”

  “What if he doesn’t give up?” Qian demanded, his voice rising in pitch.

  “He will. With Dah’tan and Sidon both destroyed, there’s nothing left to connect my name to this. Be patient and he will leave.”

  “You promised me a chance to continue my research!” Qian barked, realizing the topic of the Spectre wasn’t going to give him enough opportunity to complain. “You never said I’d be stuck wasting my time in the bowels of some grimy refinery!”

  The batarian rubbed the spot just above his inner eyes with a free hand, trying to hold the mounting headache at bay. Humans in general were trying: as a species he found them excessively loud, crude, and impolite. But dealing with Dr. Qian had become its own special brand of torment.

  “Constructing the kind of facility you need is a difficult task,” he reminded the scowling doctor. “It took you months to adapt the equipment on Sidon. This time we’re starting from scratch.”

  “It wouldn’t be such a problem if you hadn’t destroyed my lab and wiped out our supplier!” Qian accused him.

  Actually, it had been Qian’s idea to destroy the Alliance base. As soon as he’d discovered Kahlee Sanders was gone, he’d contacted Edan and demanded his batarian partner take action. He’d even provided the blueprints and access codes for the base.

  “We couldn’t let that Spectre get his hands on Dah’tan’s records,” Edan explained for at least the tenth time. “Besides, there are other suppliers. Even now my people are working on building you a new lab. One far beyond the borders of Citadel Space, safe from the prying eyes of the Council. But we can’t just acquire everything we need with one enormous purchase. Not without drawing unwanted attention.”

  “You’ve already drawn their attention!” the human snapped, circling back to the topic of the Spectre yet again.

  Qian had been extremely agitated ever since the raid on Sidon, and with each passing day he seemed to grow more irritable, confrontational, and paranoid. At first Edan thought it might be guilt over betraying his fellow humans that was driving Qian’s rapid mental deterioration. It didn’t take him long to realize the true cause was something quite different.

  Qian was obsessed with the alien artifact. It was all he cared about, all he thought about day and night. It seemed to cause the doctor actual physical pain whenever he wasn’t working on unlocking its secrets.

  “That Spectre’s looking for us right now,” the doctor warned him, his voice dropping down to a harsh whisper. “He’s looking for it!”

  There was no need to clarify what it was. However, there was almost no chance anyone would stumble across the artifact by accident. It was still out where one of Edan’s deep-space exploration teams had discovered it, orbiting a
n uncharted world in a remote system near the Perseus Veil. The only people who knew its location were the two of them and the small team of surveyors and scientists that had first stumbled across it, and Edan had been careful to keep them on the surface of the uncharted world, completely isolated from all other contact.

  Had he known how irrational the doctor would become, Edan might have done things differently. Actually, if truth be told, there was an argument to be made that Qian wasn’t the only one acting irrationally. Before all this Edan had made a point of never dealing directly with humans. And for all the illegal activities he’d used to build his fortune and empire, he’d never done anything that would fall under the jurisdiction of the Spectres.

  Yet almost from the moment he first traveled out to inspect the incredible discovery of his survey team, he’d made decisions that many who knew him would have considered wildly out of character. But that was only because they were unaware of the sheer magnitude of what he’d stumbled across.

  “It’s not safe out there,” Qian continued, his voice becoming a pleading whine. “We should move it. Somewhere closer.”

  “Don’t be stupid!” Edan snapped. “Something that size just can’t be moved to another system! Not unless we bring in tow ships and crews. That close to the Veil we’d be sure to attract the notice of the geth! Can you imagine what would happen if it fell into their hands?”

  Qian didn’t have an answer for that, but it didn’t shut him up. “So it stays out there,” he said, his tone cynical and sarcastic. “While your so-called experts down on the planet fumble around trying to grasp what they have found and I’m stuck here doing nothing!”

  There had been several scientists on the exploration team that had discovered the artifact; the whole purpose of the trip had been to seek out unclaimed Prothean technology in the hopes Edan’s corporate empire could somehow profit from it. But none of them were specialists in the field of artificial intelligence, and Qian was right when he said it was beyond their abilities.

  Edan had searched long and hard for someone with the knowledge and expertise to help him unlock the potential of what he had found. And after millions of credits spent on extensive—and very discreet—investigations, he’d been forced to accept the inescapable conclusion that the only suitable candidate was a human.

  Swallowing his pride, he’d had his representatives carefully approach Qian. Slowly they’d drawn the doctor in deeper and deeper, appealing to his professional pride and scientific curiosity by revealing only the smallest, most tantalizing details of their find. The bizarre courtship had lasted over a year, culminating in Qian’s visit to the system to see the artifact himself.

  The effect had been exactly as Edan knew it would be. Qian understood what they had discovered. He realized this went beyond mere human or batarian interests. He recognized that this had the potential to fundamentally change the galaxy, and he’d thrown himself completely into his efforts to unleash that potential.

  But on days like today, Edan still had to wonder if he’d made a mistake.

  “Your people are idiots,” Qian stated matter-of-factly. “You know they can’t make any progress without me. They can barely even get basic readings and simple observational data off it without accidentally skewing the results.”

  The batarian sighed. “This is only temporary. Just until the Spectre backs off. Then you’ll have everything you want: unlimited access to the artifact; a lab right on the surface of the world; all the resources and assistants you need.”

  Qian snorted. “Hmph! A lot of good that’ll do. I need experts in the field. People smart enough to understand what we’re doing. Like my team at Sidon.”

  “That team is dead!” Edan shouted, finally losing his temper. “You helped kill them, remember? We turned them into ashes and vapor!”

  “Not all of them,” Qian said with a smile. “Not Kahlee Sanders.”

  Edan was stunned into momentary silence.

  “I know what she can do,” Qian insisted. “I need her on the project. Without her, we’ll be set back months. Maybe years.”

  “Should we send her a message right now?” Edan asked sarcastically. “I’m sure she’d be thrilled to join us if we just ask her.”

  “I didn’t say we should ask her,” Qian replied. “Just take her. We’ll find some way to convince her to help us. I’m sure you have people who can be very persuasive. Just be sure they don’t do anything to damage her cognitive abilities.”

  Edan nodded. Maybe the doctor wasn’t as irrational as he thought. There was only one problem, though.

  “And just how are we supposed to find her?”

  “I don’t know,” Qian shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Maybe send that krogan after her again.”

  SEVENTEEN

  For the second time in as many weeks, Ambassador Goyle was making her way across the lush fields of the Presidium to meet with the Citadel Council. Last time she embarked upon this journey she had been summoned by the Council so they could chastise her for humanity’s violations of the Citadel Code. This time, however, she was the one who had requested the audience.

  As before, she passed the sparkling lake that was the centerpiece of the pastoral scene. Once again she passed the replica of the mass relay. But this time as she rode the elevator to the top of the Citadel Tower, she actually allowed herself to enjoy the view.

  She had won a victory on her last visit here by defying the Council. But in her long career as a diplomat she knew shows of strength weren’t the only way to get what you wanted. Throughout the known galaxy, the Alliance was developing a reputation for being aggressive and confrontational. Her actions last time had no doubt cemented that opinion in the minds of the councillors. Today, however, she intended to show them another side of humanity.

  Reaching the top of the Tower, she stepped from the elevator, passed the ceremonial honor guards, and ascended the staircase to the Petitioner’s Stage. A moment later the councillors emerged from somewhere behind the raised platform at the other end of the chamber and took their seats, moving with a staid and solemn precision.

  Reading the body language of other species was difficult, but it was a skill the ambassador had worked hard to develop. She could tell from their stiff and formal manner that they expected this meeting to be as unpleasant as the last one. Inwardly she smiled. They wouldn’t be expecting this. Catching them off guard would give her an advantage in the negotiations.

  “Welcome, Ambasssador Goyle,” the asari councillor greeted her once they were all seated and the holographic projections and audio amplifiers had been switched on.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Councillor,” she answered.

  “Despite some of the disagreements at our last audience, you are still a member of the Citadel,” the turian said pointedly. “We would never consider denying your right to an audience, Ambassador.”

  Goyle understood the subtle implications in his words and tone. They held no grudges; they were above petty feuds. Completely fair and impartial. Agreeing to see her only proved the Council races were morally superior to humans, more civilized.

  “What is the purpose of this audience?” the asari asked, in a much more neutral tone. Although she might feel as superior as the turian, Goyle felt she did a much better job of masking her true feelings.

  “At our last meeting you said humanity needed to learn to embrace the concept of mutually beneficial coexistence,” she said. “I am here today to demonstrate that your words did not fall on deaf ears.”

  “And how do you propose to do that, exactly?” the salarian asked.

  “I have come with a gift for the Council.”

  “Do you think you can buy our favor, Ambassador?” the turian snapped.

  His reaction was exactly what Goyle was hoping for. If she could make it appear as if they were the ones being difficult here, it was more likely they’d give in to her demands before all this was through.

  “I meant no offense,” she humbly ap
ologized while secretly smiling inside. “This is not a bribe, but rather an offer freely given.”

  “Please continue,” the asari invited. Of the three, she was the one Goyle found the hardest to read. Not coincidentally, she was also the one the ambassador was the least confident in manipulating.

  “I realize humanity made a mistake at Sidon. One we deeply regret. In an effort to make amends, I’m here to offer the Council copies of all the classified research files from the base.”

  “This…is a very generous offer,” the salarian said after a moment’s hesitation. “May I ask why you are willing to share this information with us?”

  “Perhaps our research will prove useful to the rest of the galaxy. Maybe it will bring us closer to peaceful relations with the geth.”

  “I thought all the files at the base were destroyed in the attack,” the turian said suspiciously.

  Goyle had anticipated this. They probably thought the files were fake, or at least purged of sensitive data or censored in some way. But they’d be able to tell if they were doctored, so after reviewing them the ambassador had decided to release them in full to the Council. There was nothing incriminating beyond what they already knew; if anything, the files clearly showed Qian had been operating outside the scope of his official mandate, removing some of the Alliance’s culpability.

  “Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders, a survivor of the raid, made copies of the files before Sidon was destroyed.”

  Now that Qian was working with the batarians, it only made sense to make his research available to leading experts of allied species. They would likely reciprocate by helping defend the Alliance if the batarians tried to use Qian’s work to develop AI technology to use against humanity. Besides, the Alliance experts who had reviewed the files had assured her that virtually all of the research was still theoretical. It would be years, maybe decades, before any of it would lead to any practical applications.