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.

  What Mott liked about the site was the fact that it was fairly contained, the tightly spaced columns would make it impossible for a large number of adversaries to flood the amphitheater at once, and there were open lines of sight back and forth across the bowl-shaped interior. Plus, thanks to the fact that they would have to enter via the single entrance, the biotics could be channeled down the ramp.

  Of course, that was when things would get interesting. The Cerberus operatives might be outnumbered and, with no Level 3 biotics of their own, vulnerable to “throws” and all the rest of it. So in order to level the playing field a bit, Mott planned to have a surprise ready. But would it work? Even with the advantages that the venue offered there were so many variables that even the most carefully conceived plan could easily go awry.

  As Mott laid her plans the mourners formed a semicircle in front of the converter. The pillar of iridescent light shimmered brightly as if eager to consume anything fed into its coruscating maw. Once inside, the object would be transformed into energy, thereby completing the age-old rhythm of creation, destruction, and rebirth.

  There was a platform at the end of the ramp and directly in front of the converter. The coffin had been placed on it. And as the chant grew louder, the salarian in charge of the ceremony touched a button, and one end of the flat surface fell. That sent the beautifully decorated coffin sliding into the column of fire. It vanished in a momentary flash of light. The funeral was over—and as the mourners left Mott did as well.

  Nearly a full cycle had elapsed since the scouting mission had been completed and the attack on the cavern was under way. Except that Hendel thought of an “attack” as an all-out assault on an enemy-held position rather than a long-drawn-out slither through a maze of interconnecting ducts. Adding to his sense of dissatisfaction was the fact that while he was the one who had discovered where the biotics were hiding, and led the scouting party the day before, Pa-dah had been named to lead the six-person aerial team. But some role was better than no role, especially since his participation meant he would be one of the first people to enter the biotic stronghold.

  Having been given no other choice Hendel was forced to accept his position as the people in front of him elbowed their way forward, air whispered past his ears, and his headlamp played across a pair of worn boot soles. The close quarters meant that none of the mercs could wear anything more than light armor—or carry any weapons other than light machine pistols. The exceptions being two of T’Loak’s biotics who were supposed to protect the rest of them from the Level 3s they expected to encounter inside the cavern. Would Gillian and Nick be among them? Quite possibly. And if Gillian was there which person would he encounter? The naive teenager he was sworn to protect? Or the killer she had become? Each was equally possible.

  In spite of the long crawl the aerial team made good time thanks to the updated schematic that Pa-dah could reference and the directional arrows Hendel had spray-painted onto the ductwork. One after another they tumbled into the junction box, which was barely large enough to hold them. Then it was time for Pa-dah to give some last-minute instructions while two of the mercs prepared the drop lines. “Okay,” the batarian said, “we’ll do this the way we planned it. The objective is to hit the floor in one piece. Then we’ll engage the guards and draw them away from the entrance.

  “That may be all we can accomplish. But if things go especially well I will try to find Kai Leng and take him prisoner. Meanwhile Hendel will attempt to open the gate from the inside. Are there any questions? No? Then let’s get going.”

  A plasma torch was used to carve a hole into the center of the grate, and when the metal disk smacked onto the floor many meters below it sent a cloud of dust into the air. A biotic looked up, saw the invaders sliding down the drop lines, and shouted a warning. A well-aimed burst from a merc cut him down. That was when the defenders began to fire upward—and used their biotic abilities as well.

  As Hendel slid down the rope he saw a merc on line two ripped off the rope. She screamed as she fell toward the rock-hard surface below, hit with a sickening thud, and lay broken on the floor. A small cloud of dust marked her location.

  But in spite of that most of the invaders were able to make it down untouched. That included Hendel, who saw two female biotics rushing toward him. He threw up his hands, willed a singularity into existence, and plucked the defenders off the ground. They were floating helplessly at that point, feet kicking, as he drew his pistol. One of the defenders was an asari. The other was human. Both wore armor without helmets. So Hendel put two rounds into each head. Their bodies went limp and he allowed them to fall.

  Hendel was about to engage another biotic, the turian who seemed to be in charge, when a shockwave hit him from behind. The force of the blow threw him facedown. And when Hendel managed to roll over he found himself staring up at Nick Donahue and the business end of a large-caliber pistol. “Mr. Mitra!” Nick exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You killed Marisa!”

  Fighting raged all around and Hendel was dimly aware of a ground-shaking BOOM as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Marisa? Was she your girlfriend?”

  “Yes, damn you … We were going to get married.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hendel said. “But you brought this on yourself. Remember what Kahlee and I taught you? Those who use their biotic powers to hurt people will pay. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “You bastard,” Nick said through gritted teeth. “You rotten bastard. First you kill Marisa and then you have the balls to claim that it’s my fault. Good-bye, Mr. Mitra. You can preach to the people in hell.”

  “Where is Gillian,” Hendel demanded. “Is she alive?”

  He saw the spark, but didn’t live long enough to hear the report, or feel the projectile smash into his forehead. Nor did Hendel see one of T’Loak’s Level 3 adepts smash Nick to the ground. Their bodies lay two meters apart.

  SIXTEEN

  ON OMEGA

  T’Loak was leaving very little to chance. Two guards, both stationed outside of the steel door, had been killed by snipers before they could give an alarm. Then a small army consisting of more than two hundred mercs had swept into the area, taken control of the adjacent shantytown, and sealed off the street that ran in front of the cavern. “No one goes in—and no one comes out.” That was the order T’Loak had given to Immo.

  Then, after receiving a radio message from Pa-dah, T’Loak’s forces had blown the outer door. The dust was still swirling as a phalanx of mercs charged past a couple of vehicles into the tunnel beyond. Immo came next, followed by T’Loak, and the humans. Kahlee and Anderson were useless baggage insofar as the Pirate Queen was concerned. But she didn’t mind them coming along unless they got in the way. And who knew? If she was lucky one or both of the meddlesome pair would be killed during the fighting. Her goal was to find Kai Leng. So as T’Loak led the way Kahlee and Anderson were right behind her with weapons at the ready.