Mass Effect: The Complete Novels 4-Book Bundle (111 page)

The Illusive Man watched Jana’s eyes as she took it in. “Yes, sir. I see your point.”

“Good. Here’s what I want you to do … Send the biotics a message indicating that we’ll pay five million and not a credit more. The biotics won’t agree, not if they’re after money, but they will be suspicious unless we haggle. And we need to buy time. Mott’s on the ground trying to gather more information. Who knows? Maybe she’ll get lucky.”

Jana nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“And Jana …”

“Yes?”

“Tell the bastards that if they harm Leng I will turn all of my attention to eradicating their organization.”

Jana smiled. She’d been a military officer before joining Cerberus and an echo of that could be heard in her reply. “Sir, yes, sir.”

T’Loak felt a grim sense of anticipation as she slipped into a doorway next to a pair of her mercenaries and eyed the gigantic crawler that loomed on the other side of a lopsided square. Ever since the attack on her bank the Omega’s population had been waiting for some sort of reprisal. But there hadn’t been any. The result was a great deal of speculation. Was the Pirate Queen getting soft? Were the Skulls on the rise? Such questions were being posed in every bar, club, and cafe on Omega.

And T’Loak knew it. But the Biotic Underground had evacuated the hotel where they had been staying and moved into new quarters somewhere. T’Loak felt
confident that her operatives would find them soon. That left the Grim Skulls, who had chosen to remain in their graffiti-decorated crawler. A steel box that made a respectable fort and could serve as a coffin as well. And now, after considerable preparation, she was ready to strike.

Immo had been opposed to T’Loak taking part in what promised to be a very active firefight. But she insisted on being present in order to inspire her people—and to make the extent of her strength absolutely clear to everyone on Omega. A strategy calculated to prevent attacks on her holdings in the future.

The last couple of hours had been spent moving a hundred of her mercenaries into positions around the crawler. The idea was to get close, but not
too
close, lest the Skulls realize that an attack was in the offing.

Now, as the final seconds ticked away, T’Loak heard Immo speak through the plug in her right ear. “Standby … Ten seconds from now. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”

Nothing happened. T’Loak frowned, and was about to question Immo, when a muffled thump was heard and the ground shook under her feet. There was a momentary pause followed by a truly spectacular secondary explosion as the armory located deep inside the crawler went up and jets of fire and smoke shot out through doors, hatches, and other openings. The destruction had been caused by a specially modified subsurface torpedo launched from more than a kilometer away. After burrowing around a number of underground obstructions, the weapon had blown a hole in the crawler’s belly, thereby striking the Skulls
from the one place they weren’t expecting it. And that was from below.

What happened next was delightfully predictable. T’Loak figured that dozens of Grim Skulls had been killed during the explosions. But there were a lot of compartments inside the crawler, so it was safe to assume that a significant number of the mercenaries had survived.

And that proved to be the case as at least a dozen Skulls dashed out through the main hatch. T’Loak’s forces were waiting and cut them down with ruthless efficiency. That put a stop to the escape attempt. T’Loak opened her mike. “Let’s go in and get the rest of them.”

The mercs who had been assigned to act as T’Loak’s bodyguards were ranked to either side of the asari as she left the relative safety of the doorway and began to zigzag across the open area in front of the crawler. Seconds later she jumped a body and joined the rest of the troops who were rushing the massive machine.

A trio of Skulls appeared in the main hatch, all firing automatic weapons, and one of T’Loak’s operatives was snatched off her feet. But the return fire swept the entrance clean so that the attackers could step over the dead bodies and enter the crawler. Thick smoke made it difficult to see. “Spread out,” T’Loak ordered over the radio. “Search every compartment. Kill all of them except for Tactus. I want him alive.”

There were rooms on both sides of the dimly lit main corridor, each of which had to be checked and cleared. The first space T’Loak entered was empty, and judging from the look of it, had been used as a ready room. As she backed into the hall T’Loak heard
the rattle of an automatic weapon on her left and turned to see a merc stagger as he took a burst of projectiles in the back. Then there was a flash of light and a loud bang as one of his buddies tossed a grenade into the compartment and the firing stopped.

And so it went as the invaders fought their way deeper into the machine. T’Loak allowed others to take the lead, but did her share of the fighting as they climbed an access ladder up to the second deck, and the living quarters there. That was when Immo emerged from the swirling smoke. She nodded. “How’re we doing?”

“Well, so far.”

“And Tactus?”

“No sign of him yet. We came across the woman you interviewed at the bank though. She’s in the sickbay along with two others. I wasn’t sure how to handle that so I put a guard outside the door.”

“Show me.”

So Immo led T’Loak a few feet down the corridor to the point where a merc was standing outside a hatch. The word “
SICKBAY
” had been scrawled onto the metal next to the opening. The guard stood aside so that T’Loak could enter. The medical facility was small but well-equipped. There were four beds against the far bulkhead, two of which were in use. A turian who was hooked up to a respirator and appeared to be unconscious occupied one of them. And a human, who T’Loak recognized as Shella, was propped up on the other. A pillow supported her right knee. “So,” T’Loak said, “we meet again.”

Shella was scared. T’Loak could see it in her eyes. But the human was determined to maintain her composure
and nodded in response. “There was no point in trying to run.”

“No, there wasn’t.”

“So what happens now?”

Shella feared the worst. T’Loak could see it in her eyes. “I believe you told me the truth about what happened to my daughter. So I will keep my word. Immo will make arrangements to have you transferred to an appropriate medical facility.”

Shella looked both surprised and relieved. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” And with that T’Loak left the room. Tactus was still on the loose. But as her troops pushed the Skulls deeper and deeper into the crawler’s belly it wasn’t long before the turian was cornered. Having been summoned to the scene T’Loak found herself in a poorly lit corridor. An intermittent buzzing sound could be heard as a batarian stepped in to brief her. “We believe that Tactus and two of his men are trapped in a compartment at the other end of the passageway. A couple of grenades would finish them off but we were told to take Tactus alive.”

“That’s correct,” T’Loak said. “Standby for further orders.” Having cupped her hands in front of her mouth, T’Loak shouted down the corridor. “Tactus … It’s T’Loak. Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” came the reply. “I can hear you.”

“Good. There’s no way out of here except
my
way. So if you want to live, put the weapons down, and come out with your hands behind your head.”

There was a moment of silence. “Okay. Don’t shoot. We’re coming out.”

T’Loak turned to the batarian. “Put some additional
light on the other end of the corridor. It would be a mistake to trust the bastard.”

A handheld spot snapped into existence, wandered across the overhead, and focused on the partially opened hatch just in time for Tactus to emerge. His hands were behind his neck, and as he came forward, two additional Skulls appeared to stand next to him. T’Loak raised a pistol and fired twice. Heads jerked and the men fell. Tactus looked alarmed. “You promised!” he said accusingly.

“I promised to spare
you
,” T’Loak replied. “And I will. Hold your position.”

Immo had arrived by then and T’Loak turned to speak with him. “I want chains on Tactus. Lots of them. Then, once he’s ready, parade him through the streets. It won’t take long for the news to get around. Understood?”

Immo nodded. “Understood.”

“And find whatever is left of my money. I want it back.”

And so it was that the once proud Tactus was marched through the streets to the Afterlife club, where he was placed in a cage for everyone to stare at and make fun of. Word of the turian’s humiliation spread quickly and the message was clear: Anyone who chose to attack the Pirate Queen would pay a steep price indeed. Normality, such as it was on Omega, had been restored.

The Blue Marble restaurant was a mess. The front window had been shattered and there were hundreds of pockmarks where projectiles had flattened themselves against the concrete facade. And as Mara Mott
watched from the other side of the street workmen were already in the process of making repairs under the supervision of a portly human. The owner? Yes, Mott thought so and crossed the busy street to speak with him. “Hello … Are you the proprietor by any chance?”

As the man turned to face her Mott saw that he had a unibrow, a bulbous nose, and a five o’clock shadow. “Who wants to know?” he inquired belligerently.

“My name is Hoby,” Mott lied. “Karol Hoby and I’m interested in what occurred here.”

The man frowned. “Why?”

“I have a client,” Mott replied. “A person who wants to know and is willing to pay. Assuming you’re the owner that is.”

A gleam of what might have been avarice appeared in the man’s eyes. “My name is Garza and I’m the chef. The manager was killed in the fighting. Come … My kitchen is intact. We will have tea and talk. This location is far too public.”

Mott knew Garza was correct. If she was watching others might be as well. So she followed the cook past the workmen and into the Blue Marble’s interior. It was empty of people, and judging from all the damage, the interior was going to require work as well.

But true to the chef’s word the kitchen had been spared. And there, against the back wall, was a small table where the restaurant’s employees could take a break. Garza put water on to boil before sitting opposite her. “How much will you pay?”

“That depends on what you know,” Mott replied. “If you can tell me who organized the attack, and why they did so, I’ll pay you five hundred credits.”

“A thousand.”

“Six hundred. And that’s final. Remember, this is found money. I doubt anyone else cares who launched the attack.”

Garza looked cautious. “Yes and no. I can think of one person who might care … An individual who would be very upset were I to talk about them.”

“I promise I won’t tell.”

“You drive a hard bargain citizen Hoby … If that’s your name. Six hundred it is. Would you like cream and sugar with your tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Having served his guest Garza sat down. Their eyes met. “There was a man. He came into the restaurant, sat down, and ordered Mexican food.”

“Describe him.”

Garza did so and Mott felt her pulse quicken. Because the description fit Leng to a T. “Okay. He sat down. Then what?”

“A salarian came to the back entrance,” Garza said, as he jerked a thumb at the door behind him. “He told me that an attack was about to take place and said we could warn our customers.”

“Except for the man who was eating Mexican food?”

“Exactly. I told the manager and he passed the word.”

Mott frowned. “Why would the attackers warn you? It doesn’t make sense.”

Garza eyed her over the rim of his cup. “The manager ran the Blue Marble, but he didn’t own it.”

Mott felt a rising sense of excitement. “Who does?”

“Aria T’Loak.”

“So she attacked her own restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Garza shrugged. “She wanted to kill the man I described earlier. It didn’t work though. A lot of people wound up dead but the man she was after escaped.”

There were more questions and more answers. But none of them explained why T’Loak wanted Leng dead. So Mott paid Garza, left the restaurant, and resumed her investigation. It didn’t take long to find out about the attack on the Grim Skulls and the way Tactus had been dragged through the streets.

Was there some sort of connection between the attack on the Skulls and T’Loak’s attempt to murder Leng? Mott couldn’t see one but knew that Jana and the Illusive Man would expect her to follow up on every possible lead.

With that in mind Mott went looking for people who had firsthand knowledge of the attack on Grim Skull headquarters, only to discover that most of the mercs were dead. And T’Loak’s personnel weren’t talking. But her legwork did succeed in turning up one possible lead. And that was a Skull who had not only been spared by T’Loak but taken to a hospital by the Pirate Queen’s personnel. The obvious question being why T’Loak would kill all of the Skulls with the single exceptions of their leader and a lowly foot soldier?

So Mott set off for the so-called Chop House, the much storied medical facility where Omega’s poor were cared for, but everyone else sought to avoid. The front of the plain two-story structure was decorated with a faded sign that read O
MEGA
G
ENERAL
H
OSPITAL
, and some poorly patched combat damage. As Mott approached a narrow, six-wheeled “meat wagon” was pulling away.

The patient who had been left behind was on a gurney, and judging from the bloody bandages on his chest, had been shot. Mott followed as a couple of orderlies pushed the cart into the hospital. They continued on, heading toward the brightly lit emergency room off to the left, but Mott paused in the lobby. It was a madhouse. At least twenty people where waiting to be seen, and a long line led up to the reception desk, which was staffed by a single harried-looking asari. A constant babble of conversation filled the air. It was punctuated by terse announcements and the incessant wail of a sick child. The overall impression was one of chaos, misery, and hopelessness.