Such were the teenager’s thoughts and emotions as all of the biotics not required for guard duty assembled under the dome on the cavern’s main floor. They sat on mismatched throw rugs arranged in a U-shaped formation all looking in to where Leng and Kim sat strapped to a pair of sturdy chairs. Both were doing their best to look expressionless but Leng was slightly better at it. Mythra Zon made the opening statement.

  “This is a sad day. We are biotics. That means we are inherently superior to other beings regardless of race. But we have free will. So we can make bad choices. And that is what Cory Kim did when she made the decision to place her personal desires before the needs of our organization.”

  Kim looked defiant. “Let’s get something straight … It’s true that I had feelings for Kai at one time. But that isn’t why I helped him escape.”

  Von looked surprised. “No? Why then?”

  “Because I work for Cerberus too. We’re everywhere, freak … Keep that in mind.”

  Leng groaned. “Are you out of your mind? Why did you …”

  Leng wasn’t allowed to finish. His body jerked convulsively as Sallus applied a shock baton to the back of his neck. His unconscious body slumped against the straps that held him in place. Kim kept her eyes up but bit her lower lip. Little dots of perspiration were visible on her forehead. Zon frowned. “That was a good question. Why would you tell us that?”

  “Because I’m proud of it,” Kim answered stiffly. “And you’re going to kill me anyway.”

  Zon nodded. “You’re a spy, and unlike Leng, we don’t need you.”

  Leng had recovered consciousness by then. He opened his mouth as if about to speak and closed it again as Sallus held the shock baton up for him to look at. There was nothing the Cerberus operative could do.

  Zon’s eyes roamed the crowd and came to rest on Gillian. “The decision has been made. What we need is an executioner. And because Cory Kim attacked Gillian Grayson that privilege falls to her. Come forward, Gillian, and take your revenge.”

  Gillian felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to serve as executioner and knew that, in spite of what Zon said, she was being punished for the moment of inattention that allowed Leng to escape. So as Gillian stood, and made her way forward, a battle was raging inside of her. What if she refused to kill Kim? Then they will imprison you, or kill you, the voice inside her head replied. And you won’t get the chance to avenge your father’s murder.

  So the price for revenge is revenge, Gillian responded.

  Yes, the voice answered. In this case it is. Think about your father. Think about what the Illusive Man did to him. And will do to others if he is allowed to live. It’s too bad about Kim. But she chose her fate. Just as you must choose yours.

  There was approval in Zon’s eyes as Gillian arrived in front of her and accepted a large pistol. “Shoot her in the head,” Zon instructed. “And take her place on the council.”

  Gillian felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that once on the council she would be in the ideal position to make sure that the plan to kill the Illusive Man was carried out. But as Gillian raised the heavy pistol, and the rest of the biotics looked on, Kim launched a last-ditch effort to save herself. But she was strapped in and unable to focus her biotic powers properly. The result was a weak and ineffectual “reave” that did little more than give Gillian a reason to pull the trigger.

  There was a loud BOOM as Kim’s head disintegrated. Bits of flesh and bone peppered the biotics seated in the front row. The resulting blood mist spread out to envelope Leng in a pink halo as the sound of the gunshot echoed back and forth between the cavern walls, and the chair to which Kim was strapped hit the floor. Justice had been served.

  Leng closed his eyes and fought to control his emotions. He had orders to kill Gillian. But now it was personal, and what had been a duty was going to give him pleasure. The only question was when and how.

  Mott was nervous, and for good reason. This was going to be her second one-on-one conversation with the Illusive Man. And she didn’t want to make any mistakes. So as the video swirled and locked up she was very conscious of how she was seated, the way her hands were positioned, and the fact that a nervous twitch had taken control of her right foot.

  The Illusive Man nodded. “It’s good to see you again. We have a great deal to discuss.”

  The head of Cerberus had a magnetic quality that was still palpable even though he was light-years away. His glacier-blue eyes locked with hers. “I’ve been in contact with Aria T’Loak,” he said. “She’s going to provide us with some additional manpower.”

  Mott’s eyebrows rose incrementally. “So she’s willing to help? To participate in a raid?”

  “If I pay her a large sum of money … Yes.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Mott replied. “But you might want to reconsider the deal with T’Loak.”

  The Illusive Man produced a cigarette but didn’t light it. “Go on. I’m all ears.”

  “As you know the Grim Skulls teamed up with the Biotic Underground to rob T’Loak’s private bank. Subsequent to the robbery she took her revenge by killing all of the Grim Skulls with the exception of their leader and a woman named Shella-Shella. I was able to speak with her and she has a very interesting story to tell. According to Shella she worked for a Cerberus operative at one time.”

  “So?”

  “So, Shella told me that she reported to an operative named Manning who, according to the description she gave, is a dead ringer for Leng.”

  “That’s interesting,” the Illusive Man allowed, “but so what? Leng has assumed dozens of identities over the last ten years—and worked with hundreds of different people.”

  Other individuals might have wilted under the Illusive Man’s unblinking gaze, but not Mott. She was on solid ground and knew it. “Yes, sir. Shella claims that Leng was on Omega, tracking a man named Paul Grayson, who was employed by T’Loak at the time. In an attempt to capture his target Leng and his team broke into Grayson’s apartment. An asari was there as well. They put a tranq dart into her and she went down. Then, after taking a look around, Leng slit her throat. Her name was Liselle … And she was T’Loak’s daughter.”

  The Illusive Man was silent for a moment. “You’re sure of this?”

  “As certain as I can be without access to Leng’s personnel file.”

  The Illusive Man touched a button. “Jana, please send Leng’s P-one file to my terminal.”

  The reply was nearly instantaneous. “Yes, sir.”

  The Illusive Man’s lighter flared, and by the time the file appeared on his terminal, the head of Cerberus was taking smoke deep into his lungs. Mott was too far away to read the text on the screen but could tell that the Illusive Man was scrolling down through what appeared to be a long document. The better part of a minute passed before he said, “Ah, here it is … Leng’s report regarding the night in question. Bear with me while I skim it.”

  Mott continued to wait as the Illusive Man read the remainder of the report. Then, once he was finished, it vanished off the screen. “So,” he said, as his eyes flicked her way. “Your information is correct. Leng’s report mentions killing an asari female but doesn’t provide a name.”

  Mott shrugged. “My guess is that he didn’t know who she was. And thought it was necessary to eliminate witnesses. In any case, it looks like T’Loak thought Grayson was responsible for her daughter’s murder until the bank robbery brought her into contact with Shella-Shella, who offered a firsthand account of what actually took place. At that point Leng became a marked man. T’Loak tried to kill him in the Blue Marble restaurant and failed. Then, before she could go after Leng again, the biotics captured him. So,” Mott concluded, “if she helps Cerberus attack the biotics it will be for the purpose of killing Leng. Not rescuing him.”

  The Illusive Man sent a plume of gray cigarette smoke out to hover in front of him. His voice was calm. “All right … Unfortunately we can’t stop T’Loak from going after Leng because she knows where he is. So we’ll have to handle this in a different way. Here’s what you need to do.”

  Mott listened carefully. And once the Illusive Man finished speaking she nodded her head. “Yes, sir. But I’m extremely worried about the timing.”

  The Illusive Man exhaled a stream of smoke. “Yes. So am I.”

  * * *

  Gillian wanted to sleep but couldn’t. Because every time she began to drift off Cory Kim was there to confront her. Time after time Gillian felt the pistol go off, saw the chunks of bone flying into the air, and listened to the echo that lasted forever. Then she awoke with a start, her heart beating wildly, her bedding soaked with sweat.

  So, short of using drugs to sedate herself, the only thing Gillian could do was to exercise so hard that her body would be forced to surrender the moment she put her head down. That was why she was in the middle of the cavern, in the area reserved for biotic workouts, when Mythra Zon came to speak with her. Gillian was halfway through what she thought of as the dance at that point. The series of carefully choreographed movements were intended to strengthen her body and biotic abilities at the same time.

  “That’s very impressive,” Zon said, as Gillian completed the sequence of movements she called the “falling leaf.” “I wish all our members would work out as hard as you do. Perhaps you could give some lessons during the days ahead. Please join me … I have some news that you’ll find interesting.”

  So Gillian used a towel to wipe the sweat off her face and followed Zon over to the side cavern where the leadership council held its meetings. None of the other members were present. “Please,” Zon said, as she gestured to an empty chair. “Have a seat.”

  Gillian was more than a little curious by that time and listened carefully as Zon spoke. “There are two things I want to discuss with you regarding what the other biotics said. And they’re closely related. First, I would like to welcome you to the leadership council on behalf of its members. We were very impressed by the way you handled the Cory Kim situation. It wasn’t easy, we know that, but you put your responsibility to the group before whatever personal feelings you had for Cory. And that’s the kind of commitment we’re looking for.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, since Gillian’s primary motivation for playing the role of executioner was to avenge her father’s death, but she saw no reason to mention that and didn’t.

  “I said I have news,” Zon continued, “and I do. The Illusive Man agreed to our ransom request.”

  Gillian felt her heart start to beat a little bit faster. “That’s wonderful … Have we got a time and a place?”

  “Yes. The exchange will take place at a location chosen by Cerberus at oh nine hundred local tomorrow.”

  “They get to choose the location? Is that safe?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Zon admitted. “But the Illusive Man isn’t willing to show up in person otherwise. And that’s critical if we want to kill him. Which we most assuredly do.”

  “Yes,” Gillian said emphatically. “That will put an end to Cerberus.”

  “Precisely,” Zon agreed. “What we need to do at this point is to make sure that we’re ready for tomorrow. The ransom team will consist of me, you, Lem, and Sallus plus a dozen lesser talents. Kathar will remain here along with your friend Nick, and the balance of our warriors. We will abandon the cavern in the near future, but continue to use it for the next week or so, which means we have to protect it. Do you have any questions?”

  Gillian had questions. Lots of them. But none Zon could answer. Not unless she could predict the future. “No. Thank you.”

  “All right then. We won’t know the exact location of the handoff until one hour before it takes place. That makes it all the more important to assign key roles, create plans to cover all of the possible scenarios, and stage some run-throughs. So meet us out on the floor in half an hour. In addition to being a member of the council you are one of our most powerful biotics. We’ll be counting on your strength.”

  Gillian felt a new sense of purpose and determination as she made her way up a ramp to her quarters. She would have her revenge. And in the wake of the Illusive Man’s death she would have more as well. The future was hers.

  ON OMEGA

  There were three things that the majority of the beings on Omega needed: air, food, and water. The first being more important than the others because without it the oxygen breathers would die very quickly. And that was why Hendel, Immo, and a batarian named Pa-dah were crawling through a duct that was labeled OMAS 462.3410.497 on the detailed schematic provided by T’Loak’s staff. It had been created after her rise to power hundreds of years earlier and updated on a regular basis. Not because the Pirate Queen was looking for ways to be of service to her fellow citizens, but because she thought the information might come in handy someday, which it had.

  Like all the infrastructure on Omega, the hundreds of kilometers of ventilation ducts that served the space station had evolved according to the ever-changing needs, whims, and technological capabilities of those who lived on it. Among other things, that meant there was no such thing as standard-sized ducts. Some were large enough to stand in. Others, like the one Hendel was traversing, were barely wider than his shoulders. And that was uncomfortable. Especially for a man who didn’t like small spaces. But by concentrating on the task at hand, which was to scout out a route that would allow T’Loak’s mercs to launch a surprise attack on the Biotic Underground, Hendel managed to keep his fear under control.

  His headlamp flooded the first couple of meters ahead, and Hendel had a crink in his neck from looking up, as he elbowed his way forward. Whenever he arrived at an intersection it was necessary to pause and check the schematic on his omni-tool. Some of the side shafts were marked and others weren’t. It wouldn’t do Hendel any good, but the trip was being recorded via the cameras located over his ears, so that T’Loak’s staff could add even more detail to the master schematic.

  In addition to the tight quarters there were other obstacles. They included the desiccated bodies of dead rats, a dust-encrusted maintenance bot that had to be pushed ahead of him until it could be shunted into a side shaft, and a fan that had to be stopped and dismantled before the party could proceed.

  Now, as Hendel came upon an intersection, it was time to check the map yet again. According to the schematic the time had come to make a left turn. Hendel made use of a small cylinder of spray paint to sketch a luminescent arrow onto the interior surface of the duct. Later, when the combat team came through, the directional markings would enable them to move quickly.

  “We’re getting close,” Immo said, from further back. “Or that’s the way it looks on the schematic. I doubt the biotics went to the trouble to install sensors inside the ducts but you never know. Keep your eyes peeled.”

  Hendel’s eyes were peeled and the last thing he needed was to have one of T’Loak’s functionaries telling him what to do. But he managed to conceal his annoyance by answering with a grunt instead of words.

  Having completed the tight left-hand turn, Hendel passed a side duct through which air was flowing from a heavy-duty fan, and hit a straightaway that led to a spot where some light could be seen. From below? Hendel hoped so as he elbowed his way forward and tumbled into a spacious metal box where four ducts of various shapes and sizes had been married together many years before.

  Once inside the junction box Hendel was forced to make room for Immo and Pa-dah. Then it was time to look down through some dirty grillwork onto the cavern floor some thirty meters below. And that’s where a couple dozen people could be seen, all gathered around a single individual, who was leading a group exercise. Hendel tried to identify Gillian and Nick but couldn’t do so with any certainty. But they were there, he felt certain of it, and wished that the attack could take place immediately.

  “Nice work,” Immo said, as he peered down through the grate. “We’ll go back, prep the team, and give these people a surprise they won’t forget.”

  It was, Hendel decided, the one thing they could agree on.

  The crematorium’s mass converter was located at the center of a bowl-shaped depression where it was surrounded by forty-eight fluted columns. Like so many things on the ancient space station, the exact origins of the facility were uncertain. Some said the crematorium had been a temple once, and Mott thought that was possible, given the beauty of the place. Not that it mattered so long as it could serve the purpose she had in mind. And that was to use the facility as a venue for the coming handover.

  So as a salarian funeral procession entered the amphitheater-like space and followed a gently sloping ramp down toward the glowing mass converter, Mott took a seat in the top row of the curving bench-style seats and settled in to watch. And to figure out where each one of the Illusive Man’s assets should be placed. Other spectators were present as well, including beggars, food vendors, and the merely curious. A woman with a tray of religious medals approached Mott and the Cerberus agent waved her off.

  The salarian death chant had a repetitive quality, and even though Mott couldn’t understand the language, the sadness inherent in the words didn’t require translation. Unfortunately, except for people like T’Loak, most of Omega’s residents couldn’t afford to ship dead bodies off-station. And there wasn’t enough space for a cemetery. So most corpses were cremated. That included dozens of nameless victims who had fallen prey to the rampant crime on Omega. They were routinely taken to the morgue where they were held for two cycles. Then, if the bodies hadn’t been claimed, they were “processed.” A euphemism for an assembly-line-like process in which dozens of bodies were fed into the mass converter without so much as a cursory prayer.

  But in this case it appeared that the salarian had probably died of natural causes and had enough money to pay for a more dignified departure. The coffin, which was borne on the shoulders of four males, was heavily embossed with hieroglyphics that looked a lot like circuitry. The pallbearers handled their burden with great dignity and made their way forward with a distinctive slide step.