But she wasn’t about to give up. The head butt was one of many things learned from Hendel. She felt the contact, saw the look of surprise on Leng’s face, and tried to knee him in the groin. But rather than knock the assassin unconscious the blow made him angry.

  The weapon had been a toothbrush. But after countless hours of surreptitious sharpening the formerly innocent object had been transformed into a prison-style shank. The point went deep. Gillian jerked spasmodically, frowned, and stared up at Leng with an accusing look on her face. She tried to say something, but there was too much blood and all that came out was a gargling sound.

  Leng struggled to his feet just in time to see Zon reach the top of the ramp and back out the door. The biotics were escaping.

  Mott hurried forward to free his hands. The Illusive Man’s likeness looked Leng in the eye. “Welcome back, Kai … And don’t worry about your legs. Once the doctors are finished with you, you’ll be better than you were before. Much better. I’ll see you shortly.”

  The simulacrum disappeared, and with two heavily armed operatives to protect them, Mott and Leng left. The satchels, both of which were full of rocks, were left unclaimed.

  As Kahlee and Anderson ran up the slope to the crematorium a white delivery van pulled away. There was no one to stop them as they entered the crematorium and paused at the top of the downward sloping ramp. At first glance it seemed as though the amphitheater was empty. But then Anderson spotted the body that was sprawled in front of the brightly glowing converter. “Look! It’s Gillian.”

  Together they hurried down the ramp to the point where the body lay in a pool of quickly congealing blood. A quick check revealed that Anderson was right. The body was Gillian’s, some sort of weapon was protruding from her neck, and her breathing was shallow.

  “Don’t pull it out,” Anderson advised. “That could make things even worse.”

  Kahlee opened a medi-gel-impregnated battle dressing and wrapped it around the point where the weapon had gone in. But it was too little too late. That much was obvious as she leaned forward to look down into the teenager’s face. “Gillian? It’s Kahlee.”

  Gillian’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Kahlee?”

  “Yes. And David Anderson.”

  “We tried to kill the Illusive Man,” the teenager said, as she gripped Kahlee’s hand. “But it didn’t work.” Gillian coughed and blood dribbled down her chin.

  “I’m sorry,” Kahlee replied, by which she meant she was sorry about the choices Gillian had made, the people she had killed, and the fact that she was dying.

  But Gillian was unaware of the subtleties involved. “It’s okay … At least I tried. But there’s something else … Something important.”

  Kahlee squeezed Gillian’s hand. “Yes? What is it?”

  Kahlee brought a hand up to the gold chain and the jewel that was attached to it. Both were covered in blood. “Data … From my father … Taken from Cerberus. Reapers. All about them. And …”

  “Yes?”

  “An army … The Illusive Man told me. My father was the first. They’re building an army. An army of …”

  “Of what?” Kahlee inquired.

  But Gillian was silent. Kahlee felt the grip on her hand ease, saw the light disappear from the teenager’s eyes, and bit her lower lip. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  “Yeah,” Anderson said soberly. “What a waste.”

  ON THE CITADEL

  In the wake of the attack on the Biotic Underground, and the confrontation in the crematorium, Kahlee and Anderson had been forced to leave Omega in a hurry. Because Anderson’s attack on Immo was equivalent to attacking the Pirate Queen herself, to hang around would have been suicidal.

  Plus, once they were safely in space, and had the opportunity to open the jewel-like data storage device that Gillian had given them, they knew there was something more to do. And that was to deliver a second report to the Citadel Council.

  Now, as the transparent elevator carried Kahlee and Anderson up toward the Council Chamber, she marveled at the beauty of the wide-open vista in front of her. The sun-drenched view made quite a contrast to the dark, poorly lit streets of Omega.

  When the doors parted Anderson led Kahlee out into the hallway. Eight honor guards were on duty, just as they had been during the last visit, and the asari named Jai M’Lani was waiting for them at the other end of the corridor. She was wearing a different colored gown this time but was otherwise unchanged. “Good morning. It’s good to see you again. The meeting just began and you are second on the agenda. As you know the stairs will take you up to Council level—the pathway on the right will take you into the waiting room. I will come and get you about ten minutes before your presentation.”

  They thanked M’Lani and made their way up the stairs and into the waiting room. It was empty except for three turians so the rest of the seats were vacant. And as they sat down Kahlee was reminded of Nick and the last time they had been there. If only she’d been aware of what he had planned to do. Maybe she would have been able to stop it—or maybe he would have joined the Biotic Underground anyway. And then there was Gillian. Poor Gillian. This is for you, Kahlee thought to herself, as she took a seat next to Anderson. Win or lose we’re going to try.

  A turian could be seen on the big wall screen, and Kahlee got the impression that he was arguing against some sort of tariff, which according to him was completely unfair. B’Than thanked the turian, and was in the process of telling him that the Council would take the matter under advisement, when M’Lani came to get them.

  The asari led them to a small waiting area behind the Petitioner’s Stage. Then, once the turian left, it was their turn to walk out onto the platform. Even though Kahlee had been there before it still felt strange to look out across the gap to the Council members on the other side. The asari sat on the far left, flanked by the salarian, the turian, and the human. They were dwarfed by the five-meter-tall holographic likeness that hovered over their heads.

  The asari spoke first. “Greetings Admiral Anderson and Miss Sanders. I’m told that you just returned from Omega. Welcome back. Who will speak first?”

  “I will,” Anderson replied. “The last time Miss Sanders and I appeared before you it was to show you Paul Grayson’s body and what had been done to it. As you know, we’re of the opinion that the Reapers are the only ones who could conceivably have the technology used to modify Grayson’s body, even if Cerberus played a role.

  “Since the last time we appeared before you additional information has come our way, and we would like to share it with you in hopes that the Council will take action against the Reapers.”

  The human Council member was clearly annoyed.

  “With all due respect, Admiral, your fascination with the Reapers has all the hallmarks of a fixation. But if we have to walk this road again let’s do so as efficiently as possible. Please proceed.”

  All sorts of information was stored on Gillian’s data jewel. That included a very disturbing holo that Anderson and Kahlee hoped would shake the Council out of its complacency. The air at the center of the chamber shimmered, a picture took shape, and Grayson began to scream. His body was naked, he had been strapped to some sort of framework, and his skin had a grayish tint. Open incisions could be seen on his legs. And as he screamed, thin snakelike cables could be seen entering his body, apparently of their own volition.

  As the camera zoomed out, people wearing lab coats could be seen. “No!” Grayson said, as his eyes flicked from face to face. “For the love of god stop them. I’ll do anything … Anything you want. Don’t let them do this to me.”

  But rather than stop the process the onlookers took notes as the cable things squirmed under the surface of Grayson’s skin, dimly seen lights appeared under his epidermis, and the cords in his neck stood out. “Kill meeeee,” Grayson whimpered. “Please kill me,” but no one did.

  “We’ve seen enough,” the turian Council member put in crossly. “Kill the holo. All right, Admiral … What’s the purpose of this display? Thanks to you the Council is already familiar with the way in which Grayson was abused. I fail to see how the holo sheds any light on the situation.”

  Anderson was angry and struggling to control it. His jaw clenched and unclenched. “Have any of you ever seen anything similar? Or even heard of something like what they did to Grayson? I don’t think so. Ask yourselves … Where did this technology come from? And where could it lead?”

  “To Cerberus,” the asari said reasonably. “You were part of the raid on the Cerberus space station where the experiments took place, as I recall, and saw firsthand what had been taking place there. Somehow, by a means unknown, Cerberus has acquired technology we aren’t familiar with. But that doesn’t mean the Reapers were involved.”

  Kahlee took a step forward and spoke for the first time. “When Gillian Grayson died she gave us the device on which that holo was stored and she said something that could be very important. She said that ‘They’re building an army.’ Think about that. Think about what an army of Graysons could do.”

  “What could they do?” the turian demanded contemptuously.

  “Grayson single-handedly took over a space station,” Anderson reminded them.

  “Which was lightly defended,” the salarian observed. “Thank you both … But unless you have hard proof of a connection between Grayson and the Reapers, I suggest that we bring this discussion to a close.”

  Kahlee started to speak, realized that none of the Council members were willing to listen, and turned to Anderson. “He’s right. This discussion is over. Let’s go home.”

  ON THE PLANET EDEN PRIME

  The sun filtered down through the trees to create pools of gold on the ground. The air was warm, colorful insects flitted from place to place, and birds could be heard calling to each other in the foliage above. It was called the Forest of Remembrance, and it was made up of thousands upon thousands of leafy trees, each planted to honor the memory of a person who had passed on. So having been unable to hold memorial services for Hendel, Nick, or Gillian on Omega, Kahlee and Anderson had traveled to Eden Prime.

  There was plenty of room in the sun-splashed glade. So Anderson dug three holes. They were spaced so that the mature trees could not only grow tall and strong, but offer each other protection during the coming rainy season, when the winds would whip the forest into a frenzy of thrashing branches. Once Anderson was done Kahlee placed each sapling, covered its roots with rich black soil, and watered them in. “There,” she said, as she stood. “They were troubled people, but each was trying to do something good, even if they went about it in self-destructive ways. I’ll miss them.”

  Anderson nodded. “Well said. Come on … It’s a two-mile walk back to the hotel.”

  The sun had just started to dip below Eden Prime’s western horizon as Kahlee went out to join Anderson on the balcony. The hotel was located on the twenty-third floor of the pyramid-shaped “Amazon” arcology that was located near the center of a thousand square miles of virgin rain forest. There was nothing but an undulating carpet of green for as far as the eye could see. “It’s beautiful,” she said, as David put an arm around her shoulders. “Especially after Omega.”

  “So you’re glad we came?”

  “Very. We needed this.”

  “I agree. But there’s still work to be done.”

  “You mean the ‘army’ that Gillian referred to?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe Gillian was wrong.”

  “Mythra Zon might know, but she got away.”

  Kahlee nodded. “Maybe we can find her.”

  “But not tonight.”

  “No,” Kahlee said, as the sun disappeared. “Not tonight.”

 

 

  Drew Karpyshyn, Mass Effect

 

 

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