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 back 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.

  Surprised, she stumbled back from the door as it opened and a group of seven quarians entered. Kahlee felt a brief moment of alarm as they marched onto the shuttle, but when she realized none of them had their weapons drawn she relaxed.

  She recognized both Seeto and Ugho among them. And she thought the one standing at the head of the group was Isli, the leader of the security patrol that had first greeted them. The other four she didn’t know.

  “The captain has agreed to meet with you,” Isli said by way of greeting, confirming her identity.

  About damn time, Kahlee thought. Out loud she only asked, “When?”

  “Now,” Isli told her. “We will escort you to the bridge to see him. You will need to wear your enviro-suit, of course.”

  “Okay. Let me tell Hendel and Gillian where I’m going.”

  “They need to come, too,” Isli insisted. “The captain wants to meet with all of you. Lemm is already there waiting.”

  Kahlee didn’t like the idea of forcing Gillian to leave the shuttle and dragging her through the crowded decks of the Idenna, but given the circumstances she didn’t see how she could refuse.

  Hendel shared her concern when she told him, but Gillian didn’t seem bothered by the idea. Five minutes later, once they had all donned their enviro-suits, they were off. Isli, Ugho, and Seeto went with them as their escorts, while the other four quarians stayed behind.

  “They need to sterilize your shuttle,” Isli told them. “It’s better if you aren’t on the vessel while they’re working.”

  Kahlee wondered if they were really decontaminating the vessel, or if this was just an opportunity for the quarians to thoroughly search the shuttle from top to bottom without offending them. Not that it made a difference; they had nothing to hide.

  Isli led them through the ship while Ugho marched silently along beside her. Seeto fell back with the humans so he could provide the occasional comment or explanation on what they were seeing during the journey.

  “This is the Idenna’s trading deck,” he said as they passed from the docking bays into what would have served as the cargo hold on an Alliance vessel.

  The room was packed with quarians, all in their enviro-suits, milling about. Each one carried a bag or backpack. Storage lockers lined the walls. Most of them were open, revealing the contents to be a mishmash of mundane items, from clothes to cooking utensils. Similar piles of goods were loaded into large, open-topped steel crates and oversized metal storage containers scattered haphazardly about the floor, filling the room except for the narrow aisles that ran back and forth between them.

  The quarians were moving from container to container and locker to locker. They would rummage through them, occasionally picking up an item and examining it before either keeping their find or putting the item back and resuming their search.

  “Anyone who has unneeded goods and items stores them here,” Seeto explained, “so others can come and take what they need.”

  “You mean you just let anyone take anything from anyone else?” Hendel asked in surprise.

  “Not if someone else is using it,” Seeto said, his voice making it clear that, to him, the answer was blatantly obvious.

  “But if you’re not using it, you’re just supposed to bring it here and give it away for free to someone else?”

  “What else would you do with it?” the young quarian asked, the question making it clear that the concept of selling surplus merchandise to your neighbor was completely foreign to him.

  “What if somebody hoards their possessions?” Hendel asked. “You know, keeping everything for himself?”

  Seeto laughed. “Who would do such a thing? Your living space would become so crowded you’d have to sleep standing up, just for the sake of having items you don’t even use.” He shook his head and chuckled softly at Hendel’s foolishness.

  As they passed through the trading deck, Kahlee cast a quick glance over at Gillian. It was hard to read her emotional state behind her mask, but she seemed to be okay.

  Satisfied, Kahlee turned her attention back to the quarians hunting through the merchandise. At first glance the scene resembled the crowded market square of any colony world. A closer look, however, showed it was very, very different. It lacked the aggressive, bustling energy of a typical bazaar. Despite the crowd—forty or fifty people by her guess—nobody was pushing, shoving, or fighting over items. Often, two or three people would stop and talk, though they were always careful to move aside so they didn’t block the aisles when they did so.

  It took her a moment to realize what else was missing: the noise. There were no merchants loudly hawking their wares, and no angry shouting of customers and proprietors haggling over prices. Only the soft sounds of people searching through the lockers and bins, and the low, good-natured conversation of neighbors and friends.

  They were nearing the large freight elevator that would take them up to the next level of the ship when Kahlee noticed something else. A small desk fashioned from an unidentifiable alien hardwood had been set up in front of a door leading to a supply room off to the side of the cargo hold. A female quarian sat at the desk behind a computer, where a line of five or six others stood waiting. Two male quarians stood behind her.

  The man at the front of the line said something to the woman, who punched some information into the computer. He handed her an empty pack, which she passed to one of the men behind her. He disappeared into the room, then emerged again a few seconds later and handed the pack, now filled, back to the man in line.

  “What’s going on over there?” she asked.

  “Essential items, such as food or medicine, are stored separately,” Seeto explained. “We need to keep track of our reserves to make sure we always have enough for everyone in the colony.”