It was almost as if they were waiting for something, harboring their strength until the moment was right. What that moment might be, however, he couldn’t even begin to guess.
The sixth or seventh time he woke up, he saw a blinking light on the shuttle communications console, indicating an incoming message waiting to be heard. But that was impossible. He’d disabled all hailing frequencies; there was no way for someone to contact the shuttle directly. The only way there could be a waiting message was if he had logged in to the comm network … or someone had done it for him.
Suddenly the blackouts made sense—the Reapers were temporarily putting him out so they could use the communications equipment. He briefly wondered why they didn’t simply keep him unconscious. Based on all the other times they had used him, he suspected they needed him to be awake and alert to function properly. By taking control of his body, they became bound by the limitations of his physical form. If his mind was pushed into an unconscious state, Grayson suspected, his reactions would be slow and clumsy, like a sleepwalker stumbling around in a stupor.
It could also be more taxing on the Reapers themselves. Taking control of his body while he slept could have drained their reserves, which might explain why recently he hadn’t felt them try and reestablish their dominance while he was awake.
If his speculations were true, then he’d learned something new about the alien parasites feeding off him. It might not amount to anything, but the more he understood what was happening to him, the better his chances of fighting it.
The message light was still blinking. His first instinct was to delete it unheard, perhaps thwarting the Reapers’ plans in the process.
It could be important. A tool to use against the enemy.
As he was reaching up to delete it, a new thought popped into his head. Knowledge was his only weapon against the Reapers. If he listened to the message, it might reveal something useful. If he knew what the Reapers were after, they might be easier to stop.
He hit the playback, and to his surprise Kahlee’s face appeared on the comm panel’s screen.
“Paul. I need your help. Meet me on Omega. I’m sending you the location. Please hurry. It’s urgent.”
There was something odd about the way she spoke. Her voice was flat, almost monotone. It didn’t have its normal energy or spark. It made him suspicious.
Maybe she’s scared. Or hurt.
He was being paranoid. There were any number of reasons she might not sound like her normal self. There was even the possibility that she hadn’t changed at all, and that the physical changes the Reapers had wrought on his body were affecting his senses and perceptions.
Her message left him torn. He wanted to see Kahlee, and if she was in some kind of trouble he wanted to do everything possible to help her. But he couldn’t risk exposing her to what he had become. He couldn’t risk letting her come into contact with the Reapers.
She has nowhere else to turn. She’s desperate. Don’t abandon her.
He played the message again, focusing on the last four words: “Please hurry. It’s urgent.”
Kahlee wasn’t prone to dramatics. If she said it was urgent, it had to be something serious. And there was a look of desperation in her eyes, as if he was her last hope. She needed him; he couldn’t turn his back on her.
His mind made up, Grayson sent off a reply to the message.
“I’m on my way, Kahlee” was all he said.
Omega is dangerous. You’ll need all your strength when you get there.
He plotted a course for Omega into the nav computer, then settled back in his chair and closed his eyes. He’d need to rest up so he’d be ready to face whatever might be waiting for him on the lawless space station.
“One at a time,” Anderson said encouragingly. “Flex those fingers.”
“You’d make a great nurse,” Kahlee replied.
They were sitting side by side on the couch of the room they still had not been allowed to leave. They had turned so they could be face-to-face. Kahlee was holding her hands out in front of her, palms up. Anderson’s hands were beneath, supporting her wrists. He had helped remove her finger splints so she could begin her physical therapy; when they were finished he would carefully help her put them back on.
They were sitting slightly closer than they needed to be, but not so close it could be considered intimate. Kahlee knew they were both wary of another sudden intrusion from Aria and her underlings; neither she nor David felt any need to endure that type of awkward embarrassment again.
She had noticed, however, that in the aftermath of any discussions of Grayson—like the one they had had with Aria yesterday—he always became a little more reserved and distant. She didn’t think it was jealousy; not exactly. It was almost like he was waiting for her to work out her feelings for Paul before he let himself get too close.
“You’re not concentrating,” Anderson chided her, breaking her train of thought. “Focus.”
Kahlee nodded, and turned her attention to her injured digits. One by one she curled them into her palm and extended them out again. The tendons felt stiff and brittle; she half-imagined she could hear them crackling as she went through the exercises.
They were only half finished when the door to the room slid open and Aria swept in. Her asari, krogan, and batarian escorts followed in her wake. Instinctively Kahlee snatched her hands out of Anderson’s grasp, then cursed herself for caring so much what a bunch of criminals and thugs thought about her and her relationships.
“Grayson replied to your message,” Aria informed her.
“I want to see it,” Kahlee said, rising to her feet.
The asari shook her head. “There’s nothing to see. He agreed to the meeting. You can see him then.”
Kahlee felt like Aria was hiding something. She flashed back to some of what she had uncovered in the Cerberus research files: physical abnormalities; widespread mutations; repurposing of the host.
How bad is it? How far has his condition progressed?
“What happens now?” Anderson asked.
“I’ll be alerted when he arrives on the station. At that time, my people will come to take Kahlee to the meeting.”
“I want to go too,” Anderson told her, getting up and moving over to stand beside Kahlee in a show of support.
“What you want is of no consequence,” Aria reminded him.
“Where am I meeting him?” Kahlee asked.
“I wanted to keep this private. One of my warehouses near the loading docks.”
Kahlee didn’t like the sound of that. She would have preferred somewhere more public.
“Why not in Afterlife?”
“Too many people,” Anderson answered grimly. “She thinks it’s going to get violent.”
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt him!” Kahlee shouted, taking a half-step toward their captor.
In a flash her krogan bodyguard interposed himself between them. Anderson did the same, leaping in front of Kahlee. The two stared at each other, the krogan’s massive reptilian form towering over Anderson. He didn’t back down, however.
The krogan finally stepped aside when Aria reached up to put a hand on his shoulder, indicating she wasn’t worried about the threat either of the humans posed. Satisfied, Anderson took a step back so he was once again standing beside Kahlee, rather than in front of her.
“I didn’t promise you anything,” Aria pointedly reminded her. “I said I would take what you told me about Cerberus into consideration.
“Grayson may already have killed one of my people,” she added darkly. “I’m not going to take any chances with him.”
“I want an assurance that Kahlee and I will be allowed to go free after this meeting,” Anderson insisted.
“Everyone wants things they cannot get.”
“Are you going to keep us here as prisoners forever?” Kahlee wanted to know. “Or are you just going to kill us when this is over?”
“I haven’t decided your fate yet,” Aria
said with a smile. “But if you cooperate, your chances of leaving Omega will increase dramatically.”
“How long until the meeting?” Kahlee finally said, realizing there was truth in Aria’s last statement.
“I’ll send an escort to accompany you in a few hours. I suggest you be ready when they arrive.”
Kahlee and Anderson both remained standing until Aria and the others were gone and the door had closed behind them.
Neither of them spoke as they turned to look at each other. Kahlee wondered if the concern she saw in Anderson’s face was reflected in her own.
He reached up and gently took her wrists, then drew her back down to a sitting position on the couch.
“You risk losing mobility if we don’t finish the therapy,” he told her.
With a nod, Kahlee resumed the exercises, eager to find something that could take her mind off the imminent meeting with Grayson … and the fear of what she might find waiting for her.
Aria still hadn’t decided what she was going to do with her prisoners. She didn’t want to kill them if she didn’t have to; there was little long-term gain to be had from dead bodies. But she was also leery of letting them go. Anderson in particular looked like the type to carry a grudge, and she already had plenty of enemies. Ultimately, she knew, her decision would depend on the outcome of the meeting with Grayson.
He represented another decision she hadn’t made yet. It was unlike her; she very rarely went ahead with a plan if she wasn’t reasonably certain of the outcome. But she still didn’t like the idea of getting into bed with Cerberus, no matter how lucrative the payoff might be.
“What’s the plan for when Grayson arrives?” Sanak asked, causing her to turn her head in mild surprise.
She had never thought of the batarian as particularly perceptive; was it possible she had underestimated him? Or was it simply coincidence that had made him bring up the subject?
“We’ll have plenty of people at the warehouse,” she assured him. “More than enough to handle whatever happens.”
“Why go to all this trouble? Why not just have someone take him out the second he sets foot on the station?”
“I haven’t even decided for sure whether I want him dead or not,” she cautioned.
“If you let him live you’re throwing away three million credits!” Sanak protested. “And for what?”
“For what, indeed,” she answered, causing him to shake his head in bewilderment.
She didn’t bother trying to explain her thought process to him. The Cerberus offer was generous … a little too generous. What secrets did Grayson have that were so valuable to them? And was there any chance they could prove as valuable to her?
“It’s a lot of money,” Sanak muttered. “That’s all I’m saying. With those kind of credits on the table, no way I’d let him live.”
Suddenly Aria knew what she was going to do, at least as far as Grayson was concerned. Sanak had many fine qualities. He was loyal, skilled, ruthless, and relentless in pursuit of his goals. But one thing he lacked was vision; he had a sense only of the now. The fact that he would take the Cerberus offer meant she should reject it.
“I want to try and take Grayson alive if possible,” she declared. “But if he resists in any way, kill him.”
Sanak’s lip curled up in a snarl of disgust, but he had the common sense not to question her.
“I’m going to put Orgun in charge of the warehouse team,” she added, deciding the bad blood between her lieutenant and Grayson only increased the chances of the meeting turning violent.
“What about me?”
“I’m putting you in charge of Kahlee. Make sure she’s there to meet him.”
EIGHTEEN
Grayson’s fingers moved deftly over the controls of the turian vessel, bringing it in to dock with one of Omega’s many landing ports. He was surprised by how easily he had picked up the feel of the alien vessel; it almost felt like he had piloted turian shuttles thousands of times before.
The meeting with Kahlee was at a warehouse in a district firmly under Aria T’Loak’s thumb. Grayson didn’t know if that was good or bad, however. Had Kahlee somehow become involved with Aria, or was it just random chance? The odds of any given location on Omega somehow being connected with the Pirate Queen were fairly high. She had direct control of at least a third of the station, and another third was held by various factions loyal to or affiliated with her organization in some way.
Aria is powerful. A threat. Avoid if possible.
Still, it didn’t hurt to be cautious. He didn’t know how Aria would react to his disappearance and Liselle’s death. Rather than take a chance he chose to touch down at one of the rare Omega ports that didn’t pay her tribute.
From there it was a long walk to the rendezvous, but he covered the distance quickly. Though he wasn’t running, Omega’s landmarks rolled by quickly as he made his way through the labyrinthine streets. After several minutes he noted with surprise that, despite the brisk pace, he wasn’t even breathing hard.
He would have made even better time if he wasn’t constantly slowing down to study various structural and architectural features of the station. He had seen it all before, of course, but he almost felt like he was looking at it through fresh eyes: taking every detail and comparing it against some half-remembered blueprint he didn’t actually ever remember seeing.
The cycle continues. Each civilization brings change, yet the works of our kind are eternal.
Omega was known for the haphazard, piecemeal way it had been constructed. Most believed that it had been carved from the heart of an ancient asteroid by the Protheans eons ago, but over the centuries any number of species had left their mark on it. Its discordant style gave it an almost random feel. And though it had never bothered him before, for some reason he now found the chaos offensive on a deep philosophical level.
But while the overall effect filled him with revulsion, each individual element he examined during his trek caused him to react with amusement. It reminded him of the ant farm he had as a child. The insects had worked with slavish dedication to build their network of tunnels, shaping and altering the tiny glass case that encompassed the entirety of their existence. He had observed them through the glass as they worked, industrious and relentless, completely oblivious of their own insignificance in the grand design of the universe.
He was nearing the warehouse district. Soon he would see Kahlee again. Just thinking of her caused his pulse, and his pace, to quicken. The walk felt effortless, as if he were being carried along by some invisible force. It felt different than when the Reapers had taken control of his body, however. Then he had been distanced from himself, a passive observer. Now he felt fully engaged in the process of putting one foot in front of the other to propel himself along. It just didn’t seem to require any effort. It was almost as if someone was helping him.
A symbiotic relationship.
Grayson pulled up short, his calm, relaxed demeanor swallowed up by a dark cloud of suspicion. He tried to turn around and head back the way he came, but his legs suddenly felt heavy and awkward. He managed only ten steps before he was doubled over and gasping for breath. His own body was fighting him; resisting him.
The horrifying truth slowly dawned on him. The alien technology had become so deeply embedded into his body and mind that the Reapers were now an inextricable part of him. When he had been heading toward Kahlee they had been working in unison, parasite and host united in a common goal. Their insidious influence had burrowed so deep into the fiber of his being that he had not only been unable to resist their will, he had actively been helping them achieve their end.
“No,” he shouted out, harsh and defiant. “I won’t take you to her!”
He braced himself for the inevitable surge of pain as the aliens fought to bend him to their will. Instead, he felt nothing. The lack of opposition confused him. He knew they were still present; the wires and tubes protruding from his joints and crisscrossing beneath his flesh con
firmed that beyond any doubt. But they had become invisible. He no longer processed them as other; they were part of him now, inseparable and indistinguishable from his own identity.
That’s a good thing. Influence can work both ways.
A crazy idea began to form in his mind. If the Reaper technology was part of him now, maybe that meant he would be able to influence and control it the same way the Reapers had controlled his body earlier. Maybe he could draw on the cybernetic enhancements and his newfound biotic abilities whenever he wanted to. Maybe he could use them as tools to achieve his own goals.
You are superior to the pathetic beings of flesh that surround you.
The implications were staggering. Liberating. He had transcended the slow, laborious process of natural selection. He had broken free of the cycle of passing randomly mutated genes down from one generation to the next with the slim hope of gaining some minuscule natural advantage. He himself was changing, quickly and with purpose. He was evolving toward a perfect being.
Do not hide what you have become. Reveal your glory.
He had been afraid to see Kahlee because of what she might think of him. He looked strange. Different. But she was a scientist; she would understand and appreciate what was happening to him. She would see how he had been improved. Repurposed. She would admire him. Adore him.
Spinning on his heel, he set off once more toward the warehouse district, eagerly anticipating the meeting he had been defiantly refusing to go to only minutes before.
Kai Leng sat on the couch of the small room he had rented two nights before, staring intently at the image on his monitor as he absentmindedly spooned his dinner into his mouth. The monitor was linked to a surveillance camera pointed at the back wall of Afterlife.
His accommodations were less than a block away from the club; a run-down, ramshackle building converted into a pay-by-the-hour motel by an enterprising volus. It was primarily used by patrons of the club looking for a quick hookup who couldn’t afford to rent one of Afterlife’s private suites.
The room was poorly lit, and it reeked of what Kai Leng assumed was a mixture of alien sweat and vomit. But it was close enough to the club that he could maintain his vigil yet still have time to react if he saw anything.
Mass Effect™: Retribution Page 18
