Mass Effect™: Ascension

by Drew Karpyshyn

  “We haven’t found any hard evidence to back up your story yet,” the Illusive Man said, leaning forward in his own chair with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped before him.

  His features were sympathetic and his voice understanding, but there was a hard edge just below the surface. Grayson once again found him to be compelling yet intimidating at the same time. He made it so that you wanted to confide in him. Yet if you chose to lie, his eyes seemed to say, he would know…and there would be grave consequences.

  Fortunately for Grayson, the truth was on his side.

  “I stand by my report. I pulled Gillian from the Ascension Project as ordered. During the mission, I was forced to alter the plan because of interference from Kahlee Sanders and Hendel Mitra, who insisted on coming with Gillian. I made arrangements with Pel to deal with them, but when I arrived on Omega he imprisoned us all so he could sell us to the Collectors.”

  The Illusive Man nodded as if agreeing with every word. “Yes, of course. But I’m still not clear on what happened next.”

  The question was innocent enough, but Grayson recognized it as a potential trap. Within two days of receiving his message, Cerberus had sent an extraction team to bring him from Omega back to Earth to meet with the organization’s leader. Considering Pel and his entire team were dead—some of them by his hand—it was an invitation he wasn’t given the option of refusing.

  Upon landing they had hustled him into a waiting car and taken him directly to the nondescript office tower that served as the corporate headquarters of Cord-Hislop Aerospace, the legitimate business front for Cerberus. Virtually the entire building was staffed with everyday men and women engaged in the business of manufacturing and selling ships and shuttles. None of them had any idea they were really working for an anonymous individual who inhabited the secure penthouse at the very top of the building, above the privately accessed suites of the more well known corporate executives.

  Grayson had been itching for a sand hit during the seemingly endless elevator ride to the top of Cord-Hislop. But it would have been sheer idiocy to dust up before a meeting as important—and dangerous—as this one. He had one chance to convince the Illusive Man that Pel was a traitor. If he failed, he likely wouldn’t leave the building alive, meaning he’d never see Gillian again.

  “I’ve told you everything I know about Pel’s death. An unknown person or persons, probably quarian, broke into the warehouse. I presume they helped the others escape. Most of Pel’s team were killed during the escape. During the battle I broke out of my cell. I killed Pel and one surviving member of his team myself. Then I contacted you.”

  The Illusive Man nodded again, then stood up slowly. At just over six feet tall, he towered above Grayson, still seated in his chair.

  “Paul,” he said softly, gazing down on him from on high, “are you addicted to red sand?”

  Don’t lie. He wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t already know.

  “I wasn’t high on this mission. I wasn’t hallucinating when I shot Pel, and I didn’t kill him and his team to cover up some mistake I made while stoned. I just did what was necessary.”

  The Illusive Man turned his back to him and took a step away, pondering his words. Without turning back to face Grayson, he asked, “Do you care for Gillian?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “I care for her as much as any father cares for his child. You told me to raise her as my own, so I did. It was the only way to get her to trust me.” And you already knew the answer to that question, too.

  The Illusive Man turned back to face him again, but remained standing. “Do you ever have doubts about what we do here at Cerberus, Paul? Do you ever feel conflicted over what’s been done to Gillian?”

  Grayson didn’t speak for several moments, trying to carefully formulate his response. In the end, he couldn’t find the words to answer while evading the question, so he replied as honestly as he could.

  “It tears me apart whenever I think about it.” Then he added with conviction, “But I understand why it must be done. I see how it serves the greater good. I believe in our cause.”

  The Illusive Man raised one eyebrow in surprise, tilting his head to fix his gaze on the man sitting before—and beneath—him.

  “Your former partner would never have given me an answer as honest as yours.” Grayson wasn’t sure if the words were meant as a compliment or an insult.

  “I’m not like Pel. He made a deal with the Collectors. He betrayed humanity. He betrayed Cerberus. He betrayed you.”

  Grayson felt a small hint of relief when the Illusive Man sat down again.

  “We’ve had no reports on your shuttle’s location since it left Omega. Not a single sighting at any space station or colony in either Council Space or the Terminus Systems.”

  “I think I know why,” Grayson announced, exhaling a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as he played his trump card. “I think they’re hiding amid the quarian flotilla.”

  Again, the Illusive Man raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I’m curious as to what led you to this rather unlikely conclusion.”

  He didn’t have a good answer. His theory was based on a few pieces of highly circumstantial evidence: the shotgun he’d found at the warehouse, the prisoner in the basement, and the unshakable certainty that he just knew where Gillian was.

  “Instinct,” he finally replied. “I feel it in my gut. The quarians took my daughter.”

  “If they did,” his boss replied, “then she is beyond our reach.”

  Grayson shook his head, silently refuting the other man’s statement. “I found Pel’s mission reports in the warehouse. I know he was gathering information to infiltrate the Migrant Fleet, and I think that’s what drew the quarian rescue team to the warehouse. But they left one of their own behind; a prisoner Pel had tortured to the brink of insanity. He gave me a transmission frequency and what I believe to be some kind of pass code before he died.

  “Pel’s reports also mentioned a quarian scout ship he’d acquired, the Cyniad. I think we can load a team onto the ship and use the frequency and code to get inside the flotilla and get Gillian back.”

  The Illusive Man didn’t try to deny the purpose of Pel’s mission. Instead, he considered Grayson’s plan, most likely weighing the risks against the potential rewards. “It could work…assuming you’re right about the quarians taking Gillian.”

  He stood up again, but this time the action seemed to signal an end to their meeting, as if he’d gotten what he wanted out of Grayson.

  “I will have some of our operatives in the Terminus Systems see if they can find any information to support your theory. If they do, we’ll send an extraction team to get her out.

  “We have a quarian contact on Omega who could help us,” he added. “I will give him the code to see if he can verify the authenticity.”

  Grayson had achieved half of what he wanted from this meeting: Cerberus was sending troops to bring Gillian back. But that wasn’t enough for him this time; he was done letting others control his daughter’s life while he sat idly by.

  “I want to be part of the extraction team.”

  The Illusive Man simply shook his head. “The mission will require exacting precision and flawless execution. The smallest mistake could put the entire team at risk. And I’m concerned your feelings for Gillian have compromised your judgment.”

  “I need to be part of this,” Grayson insisted. “I need to get my daughter back.”

  “I give you my word no harm will come to her,” the Illusive Man assured him, his voice slipping into a low, soothing register. “We’ll do everything to keep her safe. You know how important she is to us.”

  That’s what I’m counting on.

  Gillian represented over a decade of intense Cerberus research. Tens of thousands of hours and billions of credits had been invested in his little girl in the hope she would one day become the key to unlocking new frontiers in the field of human biotics. The Illusive Man wanted Gillian bac
k just as much as Grayson, though for different reasons. And that gave the father something few people ever had when dealing with the Illusive Man: leverage.

  “You don’t have any other choice,” Grayson warned him, delivering his ultimatum in a sure, steady tone. “I won’t give up the pass code. Not until I’m on a ship heading right into the heart of the Migrant Fleet. If you want to get Gillian back, then I’m your only shot.”

  It was a dangerous gamble. They could always torture him for the information, and their techniques would make the methods Pel had used on his quarian prisoner seem merciful by comparison. But Grayson could still be useful, especially when it came to Gillian. Cerberus knew of his daughter’s condition; they knew she could be unresponsive to strangers. Her father was worth keeping around…or so he hoped.

  “You are very dedicated to her,” the Illusive Man said with a smile that didn’t quite hide the rage beneath it. “I hope that does not become a problem later on.”

  “So I can go?”

  The Illusive Man nodded. “I will set up a meeting with Golo, our quarian contact on Omega.”

  He motioned with one hand and Grayson stood up, fighting to keep his elation well hidden. It was quite likely there would be repercussions for his defiance somewhere down the road—the Illusive Man had a long, long memory. But he didn’t care about that now. He was willing to pay any price if it meant he could get his daughter back.

  TWENTY

  “Remember what I told you, Gillian,” Hendel said. “Get the image in your mind, then clench your fist and concentrate.”

  Gillian followed Hendel’s instruction, scrunching up her face as she focused all her attention on the pillow at the foot of the bed they were sitting cross-legged on. Kahlee watched them with interest from the other side of the bedroom, leaning against the frame of the open door.

  Though Kahlee wasn’t biotic, she was familiar with the techniques Hendel was teaching. The Ascension Project used simple biomechanical feedback, such as clenching a fist or thrusting a hand high into the air, as a tool for unleashing biotic power. Associating basic muscle movements with the necessary complex thought patterns created a triggering mechanism for specific biotic feats. Through practice and training, the corresponding physical action became a catalyst for the required mental processes, increasing both the speed and strength of the desired biotic effect.

  “You can do it, Gillian,” Hendel urged. “Just like we practiced.”

  The girl began to grind her teeth, her fist clenched so tight it began to tremble.

  “Good girl,” Hendel encouraged. “Now throw your arm forward and imagine the pillow flying across the room.”

  Kahlee thought she saw a faint shimmering in the air, like the rippling heat rising off a sun-scorched blacktop. Then the pillow launched itself from the bed, hurtling toward Kahlee and smacking her square in the face. It didn’t hurt, but it did catch her off-guard.

  Gillian laughed—a nervous bark of excitement and surprise. Even Hendel cracked a small smile. Kahlee scowled at them both in mock exasperation.

  “Your reaction time’s a little slower than it used to be,” Hendel commented.

  “I think I better leave you two alone before I catch a lamp in the teeth,” she replied before exiting the room and making her way aft toward the seats in the passenger cabin.

  Three days had passed since their shuttle had docked with the Idenna, and they were still waiting for the captain to give them clearance to come aboard his ship. During that time they had been well looked after, but Kahlee was starting to develop a serious case of cabin fever.

  Gillian and Hendel had fought against the boredom by focusing on developing her biotic talents. She had made astounding progress in an incredibly short time. Whether that was from all the one-on-one training Hendel was giving her, or if it was because her outburst in the cafeteria back at the Academy had broken through some kind of internal mental barrier, Kahlee couldn’t say. And though she was glad to see Gillian making progress, there was little she could do to help.

  It was clear, however, that Gillian was coping surprisingly well with their situation. She had always had good and bad days; the severity of her condition had an irregular ebb and flow. Over the past several days there were still times when Gillian seemed to simply zone out or disconnect from what was happening around her, but overall she seemed more consistently aware and engaged. Again, Kahlee wasn’t sure of the exact reason. It could be the fact that she was receiving far more personal attention than she ever had at the Academy. It might have had something to do with their inability to leave the tight confines of the shuttle; Gillian was intimately familiar with every square inch of the ship. She likely felt safe and protected while on board, as opposed to being exposed and vulnerable while wandering the classrooms and halls of the Grissom Academy. Or it simply could have been the fact that she had to interact with fewer people—apart from Hendel and Kahlee, the only visitor to the shuttle had been Lemm.

  He stopped by once or twice a day to give them updates on what was happening aboard the Idenna, and share any important news coming in from the rest of the vessels in the Fleet. With almost fifty thousand ships—many of them frigates, shuttles, and small personal craft—there was a constant stream of information and traffic within the flotilla.

  Fortunately, in the quarians’ endless efforts to seek out resources for their society, there were also dozens of vessels arriving and departing from nearby worlds on a daily basis. As promised, the Idenna had requested from the other vessels food stores that were suitable for humans, as well as human enviro-suits. One day after their arrival supplies began to come in, and the shuttle’s hold was now stocked to overflowing.

  Not surprisingly, the request had set off suspicions and rumors among the rest of the Fleet. As Lemm explained it, that was one of the reasons the decision was taking so long. The captain of each ship was given absolute authority over his or her vessel, provided that authority wasn’t abused and didn’t endanger the rest of the flotilla. Apparently the harboring of nonquarians definitely fell beyond the scope of what was permitted.

  In the wake of the Idenna’s strange request for human-centric supplies, the Conclave and the Admiralty—the respective civilian and military leaders of the quarian government—had become involved in the discussions of what was to be done. Ultimately, Lemm had explained to Kahlee, the final decision would be given to the Idenna’s captain, but not before everyone else had weighed in with their opinions and recommendations.

  To pass the time between Lemm’s visits, Kahlee had begun speaking with the quarians posted at the airlock as their guards. Ugho, the older of the two, was polite, but somewhat cold. He responded to her questions with short, almost clipped, answers, and she soon gave up bothering to speak with him while he was on duty.

  Seeto, however, was the exact opposite. Kahlee guessed he was about Lemm’s age, though hidden behind his mask and enviro-suit her only clue was the “nar” identifier in his name. But for some reason Seeto seemed more naïve and youthful than their rescuer. Lemm spending several months away from the flotilla on his Pilgrimage no doubt had something to do with that, but Seeto also struck her as having a childlike exuberance about him that she simply chalked up to an excitable, outgoing personality.

  She learned very quickly that he was a talker. One or two questions from her were all it would take to get the words flowing, and then they came out in a gushing river. Kahlee didn’t mind, however. It helped pass the time, and she had learned a lot about the quarians in general, and the Idenna in particular, from Seeto.

  At only thirty years old, he had explained, the Idenna was still considered a new ship. Understandable, considering some of the ships in the flotilla were manufactured over three centuries ago, before the quarians’ defeat and exile at the hands of the geth. Over time they had been upgraded, repaired, and retrofitted to the point they hardly resembled the original vessel anymore, but they were still seen as less reliable than newer ships.

  Seeto
also told her that the Idenna was a medium-sized cruiser, large enough to have a seat on the Conclave, the civilian board that advised the Admiralty on setting Fleet policy and passed rulings on specific disputes and decisions within the flotilla. She learned that there were 693 men, women, and children who called Idenna home—694 if Lemm’s proposed gift from his Pilgrimage was ultimately accepted by the captain and he joined their crew. Kahlee was astonished by that number; in the Alliance, a medium-sized cruiser would have a crew of 70 or 80 at the most. In her mind’s eye she envisioned the inhabitants of the Idenna living in squalid, overcrowded misery.

  The more she had talked with Seeto, the more comfortable he’d become. He’d told her about Ysin’Mal vas Idenna, the ship’s captain. Ship captains tended to be men and women bound by tradition; Mal, however, was generally regarded as an aggressive proponent of change and progress. He’d even, Seeto had confided in a low whisper, put forth a proposal for the flotilla to start sending out cruisers on long-term exploratory missions to uncharted regions of space, in the hopes of discovering uninhabited, life-bearing worlds the quarians could settle as their own.

  This particular view had often brought him into conflict with the other ship captains and the Conclave, who believed the quarians needed to remain united in the Migrant Fleet if they were to ensure their survival. However, from the way the young quarian spoke, it was clear to Kahlee that Seeto supported his captain’s position, rather than common convention.

  As she passed through the passenger cabin on her way to the airlock, she hoped it would be the more interesting Seeto, and not the stoic Ugho, who was standing on duty outside. Still forbidden to leave the ship, she was about to use the airlock’s intercom to contact the guard outside and ask him to come aboard when the seals on the door suddenly released on their own.