Mass Effect™: Retribution (6 page)

She’s right about Kahlee, you know. You always get moody after you talk to her
.

He nodded to the guards at the district’s gate as he passed, but didn’t bother to speak as he blew by, his mind too caught up in his own thoughts.

Kahlee was a link to his old life; speaking to her was a way to keep the connection with his daughter alive. Their conversations were a reminder of what he’d once had … and what he had lost.

Those days are gone. Quit torturing yourself
.

He reached his building, punched in the code, then quickly ran up the stairs. By the time he reached the door of his apartment he was breathing heavily. But while his physical exertion had raised his heart rate, it had done nothing to quell his inner turmoil.

Inside the apartment he locked the door, pulled the shade down in the sitting room, then stripped off his boots, shirt, and slacks. A few beads of perspiration had broken out on his skin; standing in his underwear in the middle of the room, he shivered in the cool air wafting down from the climate-control vents in the ceiling.

Part of him wanted to call Kahlee again.

Great idea. What are you going to say? You think she cares about your emotional bullshit?

She was probably asleep by now. There was no point in waking her up. And calling her might not make him feel any better; it might actually make things worse.

You’re so messed up you don’t even know what you want. Pathetic
.

He began to pace back and forth in front of the couch, trying to burn off the restless energy.

Just leftover adrenaline from the job. You need to relax
.

This feeling wasn’t completely new to him. On edge. Wired. During his days with Cerberus, he’d felt this way most of the time. It wasn’t hard to guess the cause: psychological stress.

Working for Aria was a little too close to what he used to do for the Illusive Man. He was falling back into old patterns.

What are you going to do? Tell Aria you quit? You really think she’ll just let you walk away?

Leaving Omega wasn’t a realistic option. He’d just have to find ways to cope. Like he did while working for Cerberus.

One quick hit of red sand and it’s all good
.

He couldn’t deny the truth—he was an addict. He’d never last the entire night. Not with the drugs right here in the apartment. But there was a solution: replace one addiction with another.

Making his way into the bedroom, he activated the extranet terminal and tapped the screen to send out a quick call. Liselle answered on the second ring.

“I knew you’d call back.”

Her voice was distorted slightly, the two-way transmitter in the bracelet she wore on her wrist struggling to filter her words out from the background noise of the club’s dance floor.

“I’m sorry I was acting so weird,” he said. “I just felt a little … off.”

“Feeling better now?” she asked, her voice dripping with insinuation. “Want me to come over?”

“As fast as you can” was his earnest reply.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

The call disconnected, and Grayson pushed himself back from the terminal. Twenty minutes. He could last twenty minutes.

Kai Leng and his team—four men and two women—stopped at the gate leading into the district where Grayson lived. The turian guards studied them with something between boredom and contempt, not even bothering to raise their weapons.

It would have been an easy matter to take them out, but unfortunately, eliminating the guards wasn’t an option. They were part of Omega First Security, an independent company hired by wealthy residents to provide protection in a handful of neighborhoods on the station. Each guard post had to check in with the main dispatch every twenty minutes; failure to do so would trigger an emergency response of two dozen reinforcements descending on the district.

“Name,” one of the guards demanded.

“Manning,” Kai Leng replied. “Here to see Paul Johnson.”

The turian glanced down at the screen on his omni-tool. “He didn’t put you on the list. I’ll have to call him to get clearance.”

“Wait,” Kai Leng said quickly. “Don’t call him. This is supposed to be a surprise. It’s his birthday next week.”

The turian hesitated, then gave the seven humans standing before him a closer look.

Kai Leng had dressed his people to fit their cover story. Nobody wore body armor; instead they were attired in colorful clothing befitting current Omega
fashion. Instead of a weapon, each member of the team carried a gift wrapped in brightly colored paper.

They were armed, however; each team member had a small tranquilizer pistol carefully hidden somewhere on his or her person. Stunners were smaller and would have been easier to hide, but the tranqs had better range and weren’t limited to two or three shots before needing to be recharged.

“This is a breach of protocol,” the other turian said, though his tone wasn’t one of flat refusal. “We could get fired.”

“We’re not looking to get you in any trouble,” Kai Leng replied, holding up a pair of hundred-credit chips. “Just do us a favor and pretend we were never here.”

Omega Security paid its people well, but that didn’t mean they were immune to bribes under the right circumstances. The group before them looked harmless, and the offer was just enough to tempt them, but not so much it would arouse suspicion.

“Let me look in those gifts first,” the turian said, snatching the chips from the human’s outstretched hand.

Kai Leng had briefly considered having his team hide their weapons inside the gift boxes. Fortunately, his understanding of alien nature had made him reconsider. He knew the turian guards wouldn’t be able to resist asserting their authority over a group of wealthy humans.

For the next few minutes, the turians pawed through the gift boxes. They tore off the wrappers and rummaged around inside, thoroughly—and roughly—inspecting the contents. Their search revealed
several bottles of expensive wine, a watch, a pair of cuff links, and a box of premium cigars. When they were finished, the gift boxes had been reduced to shreds of brightly colored paper and a pile of crumpled cardboard strewn about the feet of the guards.

“Clean up this mess and you can go,” the second turian said.

Kai Leng bit his lip and nodded to his crew. One further humiliation: picking up garbage off the street while the guards literally looked down on them. To their credit, his people took the insult without comment, knowing the mission was more important than their burning desire to punish the turians for their alien arrogance.

Just as they were leaving, one of the turians warned, “Mr. Johnson might not be that happy to see you. His asari friend came through here about ten minutes before you showed up.”

“She’s probably giving him her gift right now,” the other added with a crude chuckle.

Kai Leng swore silently. Seeing that Grayson had left the club alone, he’d dropped surveillance and gone to meet up with his team. He hadn’t considered the possibility that the asari might join him at the apartment later.

Keeping his anger in check, he smiled and said, “We’ll be sure to knock.”

He led his team past the checkpoint and around the corner leading to Grayson’s building. As soon as they were out of sight of the guards he held up a hand, ordering everyone to stop.

He never would have given the go-ahead for the mission if he knew the asari would be there, but it
was too late to abort. The guards were sure to ask Grayson about his surprise party in the next few days. He was smart enough to put the pieces together; he’d know Cerberus had found him. He’d either disappear or get a special security detail from Aria to shadow him. Tonight was their only chance.

“You heard the guard,” he told his team. “Grayson isn’t alone. The asari is with him. We have to take him alive,” he reminded them, stressing the mission’s primary directive. “However, the alien whore is expendable. If you get a chance, kill her.”

He could see from the others’ faces that they all understood this was easier said than done. They expected Grayson to have at least one weapon somewhere in his apartment; the asari could be similarly armed. Even if she wasn’t, she was a biotic. Wearing nothing but party clothes and armed only with tranquilizer pistols, they were at a significant disadvantage.

“Stick to the original plan,” he reassured them. “Strike fast; catch them unprepared. If we’re lucky, it will be over before they even know what’s happening.”

Grayson was panting like a dog. He lay atop the covers of his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. Liselle was pressed up against him, their naked bodies still intertwined.

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” she murmured in his ear, running her fingers lightly down the center of his bare chest.

Still recovering from their session, he barely managed to croak out, “Me too.”

Sex with Liselle went beyond mere physical pleasure.
Like all asari, she established a profound and powerful mental connection with her partner during climax; for a brief instant two minds became one. Their identities crashed together, splintered, reformed, then tore apart with an overwhelming intensity that left Grayson literally gasping for air.

How are you ever going to go back to humans?

“I need a drink,” he said, gently unraveling himself from Liselle’s long, slender limbs.

He staggered down the hall into the kitchen. He pulled a bottled water from the fridge and drank it all in a single series of long, desperate gulps. He felt light-headed, but the restlessness and anxiety were gone, washed away by Liselle’s incredible skills in the bedroom.

Just as he was about to call out to Liselle to see if she wanted anything, the door to his apartment slid open.

His head snapped around in response to the sound, revealing a small group of people in the hall just outside his door. One was crouched at the edge of the door frame, where she had just finished overriding the security codes. The others were standing in a tight knot, making it hard to accurately gauge their numbers. But two things stood out to Grayson immediately: they all appeared to be human, and they were all armed.

His instincts kicked in and he dropped to the floor, the half-wall shielding him from a round fired by one of the intruders.

Professional. He got that shot off fast
.

“Ambush!” he called out to Liselle. “Bedside
table!” he added, giving her the location of his weapon.

Told you Cerberus would find you
.

He knew there was no way he could win this battle. Naked, unarmed, outnumbered—the odds were impossible. But he didn’t care about survival. All he cared about was getting back to the extranet terminal in the bedroom long enough to send a warning out to Kahlee.

Assuming they haven’t already gotten to her
.

Knowing it was a huge risk, he popped his head up over the wall to sneak a peek at the enemy. Three of them fired as soon as his head came into view, but he was able to duck back down and avoid the shots.

Fortunately, they had no way of knowing he was unarmed. Instead of charging in to finish him off, they were still lurking in the hall, taking cover by the edges of the doorway to guard against any return fire.

Grayson made a break for the hall leading to the bedroom, crouching low to the ground. Behind him he heard heavy footsteps as several of the assassins burst into the apartment.

There was a series of sharp
twangs
as enemy bullets peppered the wall just above him. He heard the hiss as one whizzed past his ear. And then he was around the corner and out of the line of fire.

Odd. Bullets don’t twang
.

The stray thought was pushed from his head by the sight of Liselle rushing from the bedroom and down the hall toward him. She was still naked, her right arm extended, her hand clasped firmly around the butt of Grayson’s pistol.

They were both moving fast, and in the split second
it took them to realize what was happening it was too late. They plowed into each other, the collision knocking them both to the ground.

Grayson sprang back to his feet, yanking on Liselle’s left arm in a desperate attempt to pull her up. He was already heading toward the bedroom door again, moving backward as he half-dragged the asari with him. Amazingly, she’d managed to hold on to the pistol despite being bowled over and having her arm nearly wrenched from its socket.

A Cerberus agent skidded around the corner from the kitchen, bearing down on them. Grayson’s grip instinctively tightened on Liselle’s arm as he braced himself to receive a slug in the chest. From her half-prone position, Liselle waved the hand holding the gun vaguely in their enemy’s direction as he took aim, the physical action triggering the synapses in her brain to unleash a quick burst of dark side energy.

The asari didn’t have enough time to gather her power for a truly devastating attack. The biotic push didn’t do any real harm, but it knocked their opponent off balance, sending his shot harmlessly into the ceiling as he staggered back around the corner and out of sight.

They were less than a meter away from the bedroom when the attacker ducked around the corner a second time, already firing. From point-blank range he unloaded a single shot, catching Liselle in the chest. She gasped and, with Grayson still dragging her down the hall, threw up her free hand to return fire.

The high-powered pistol unleashed a wild spray of bullets, the automated targeting computer compensating
as best it could for Liselle’s erratic aim. At least one round found its mark—a burst of red splashed across the wall and the Cerberus agent slumped to the ground.

Grayson kept his legs churning as Liselle’s body went limp, the pistol sliding from her nerveless fingers as they crossed the bedroom’s threshold. Releasing his grip on his lover, Grayson punched the panel on the wall and the door slammed shut, buying him a few moments of precious time.

He hoisted Liselle up and tossed her on the bed, frantically searching her naked body for the wound. He expected to see a hole torn through her sternum; instead he found only a small pinprick perfectly centered between her breasts.