Mass Effect: The Complete Novels 4-Book Bundle (14 page)

“You what?!” Anderson was shocked. “I can’t believe you … how is that even possible?”

“Encryption and security algorithms are my specialty,” she said with just a hint of pride. Then her voice became defensive. “Look, I know it was illegal. I know I broke the chain of command. But you weren’t there. You can’t understand how strange Dr. Qian was acting.”

“What did you find out?”

“He hadn’t just taken the project in a radical new direction. Our research was completely off the grid. All the new theories, the new hardware—it was all based on preparing our neural networks to link into some kind of alien artifact!”

“So what?” Anderson said with a shrug. “Pretty much every major advance we’ve made in the last two decades was based on Prothean artifacts. And it’s not just us—galactic society wouldn’t even exist if it wasn’t for compatible alien technology. Every species in Citadel Space would still be stuck inside their own solar system.”

“This is different,” she insisted. “Take the mass relays. We only have a limited understanding of how they work. We know how to use them, but we don’t understand enough to try and actually build one. At Sidon we were trying to create an artificial intelligence, possibly the most devastating weapon we could unleash on the galaxy. And Dr. Qian wanted to introduce an element to the research that was beyond even his comprehension.”

Anderson nodded, recalling the infamous Manhattan Project of the early twentieth century from his history courses at the Academy. Desperate to create an atomic weapon, scientists on the project unwittingly exposed themselves to dangerous levels of radiation as a matter of course in their experiments. Two researchers actually died on the project, and many others were stricken with cancer or other long-term consequences from prolonged radiation poisoning.

“We weren’t supposed to repeat the mistakes of the past,” Kahlee said, making no effort to hide the disappointment in her voice. “I thought Dr. Qian was smarter than that.”

“You were going to report him, weren’t you?”

The young woman nodded slowly.

“You were doing the right thing, Kahlee,” he said, noticing the uncertainty in her expression.

“It’s hard to believe that when all my friends are dead.”

Anderson could see she was suffering from a classic case of survivor guilt. But even though he felt sorry for her, he still needed more information.

“Kahlee … we still have to figure out who did this. And why.”

“Maybe somebody wanted to stop Dr. Qian,” she offered in a whisper. “Maybe my investigation tipped someone else off. Someone higher up. And they decided to shut the project down for good.”

“You think someone in the Alliance did this?” Anderson was horrified.

“I don’t know what to think!” she shouted. “All I know is I’m tired and scared and I just want this all to be over!”

For a second he thought she was going to start crying again, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared right at him. “So are you still going to help me figure out who’s behind this? Even if it turns out the Alliance is somehow involved?”

“I’m on your side,” Anderson promised her. “I don’t believe anyone in the Alliance was behind this. But if it turns out they were, I’ll do my best to take them down.”

“I believe you,” she said after a moment. “So what now?”

She’d come clean with him. Now he had to do the same. “Alliance Command told me they think whoever attacked the base was after Dr. Qian. They think he might still be alive.”

“But the vids are saying there were no survivors!”

“There’s no way to be sure. Most of the bodies were vaporized at the scene.”

“So why now?” Kahlee asked. “The project’s been running for years.”

“Maybe they just found out. Maybe Qian’s new research tipped them off. Maybe there’s some connection to that alien artifact he discovered.”

“Or maybe I forced them to make a move.”

Anderson wasn’t about to let her go down that road. “This isn’t your fault,” he told her, leaning in and grabbing her hand tightly. “You didn’t order the attack on Sidon. You didn’t help anyone bypass base security.” He took a breath, then spoke his next words slowly and emphatically. “Kahlee, you are not responsible for this.”

He released her hand and sat back. “And I need you to help me figure out who was. We need to find out if anybody else knew about this Prothean artifact.”

“It wasn’t Prothean,” she corrected. “At least, not according to Dr. Qian’s notes.”

“So what was it? Asari? Turian? Batarian?”

“No. Nothing like that. Qian didn’t know what it was, exactly. But it was old. He thought it might even predate the Protheans.”

“Predate the Protheans?” Anderson repeated, trying to make sure he’d heard her properly.

“That’s what Qian thought,” she said with a shrug.

“Where’d he find it? Where is it now?”

“I don’t think it was ever at the base. Dr. Qian wouldn’t have brought it in until he was ready to integrate it into our project.

“And he could have found it anywhere,” she admitted. “Every few months he’d leave the base for a week or two. I always assumed he was giving some kind of status report to his superiors at Alliance Command, but who knows where he went or what he was up to.”

“Somebody outside the base had to know about this,” Anderson pressed. “You said Dr. Qian changed, took the research in a whole other direction. Was there anyone not on the project who might have noticed something out of the ordinary?”

“I can’t think of … wait! The hardware for our new research! It all came from the same supplier on Camala!”

“Camala? Your supplier was batarian?”

“We never dealt with them directly,” she explained, speaking quickly. “Suspicious hardware purchases anywhere in Citadel Space are red-flagged and reported to the Council. Throughout the existence of the project we used hundreds of shell companies to place individual orders for each component; orders too small to attract attention on their own. Then we configured them at the base and integrated them into our existing hardware infrastructure.

“Dr. Qian wanted to avoid compatibility issues in the neural networks, so he made sure almost everything could be traced back to a single supplier: Dah’tan Manufacturing.”

It made sense in a convoluted way, Anderson realized. Given the current political tension between batarians and humans, nobody would suspect that the primary supplier of a classified Alliance research project would be based on Camala.

“If somebody at the supplier noticed a pattern in the purchases,” Kahlee continued, “they might have figured out what we were up to.”

“As soon as Grissom gets us off this world,” Anderson declared, “we’re going to pay the Dah’tan facility a little visit.”

THIRTEEN

Saren made his way through the darkness of Elysium’s moonless night toward his waiting vehicle. He knew the humans back at the house were hiding something from him. There was more going on at Sidon then they had admitted.

As a Spectre, he had the legal right to forcibly extract information from anyone, even Alliance soldiers. But having that right and actually being able to use it were two different things.

Elysium was an Alliance world. He had no idea if one of Grissom’s neighbors had called the authorities after the gunfight with Skarr. It wasn’t likely—the house was well isolated from its neighbors. But Saren couldn’t take that chance. If the local Alliance authorities arrived to find a turian brutally interrogating their fellow soldiers, his Spectre status wouldn’t help him.

Besides, they weren’t the ones he was after. The humans were insignificant to his real investigation. They probably knew something about why Skarr had been sent after them, but he doubted they had any real idea
who
had sent him.

The krogan was the key. Saren had no trouble following him to Elysium; he’d just have to pick up his trail again. The Verge was the untamed frontier of Citadel Space, but even out here it was nearly impossible to travel between worlds without drawing attention. Smaller ships were physically capable of landing almost anywhere on a habitable planet. But any destination world occupied by an established colony would instantly pick up any incoming vessels that didn’t touch down at the spaceport. They’d have military personnel on the scene ready and waiting to arrest everyone on board … if they didn’t simply blast the offending ship from the sky.

That meant Skarr would have to use the spaceports. And even if he found some way to sneak past border security, he wasn’t hard to pick out of a crowd. As a Spectre, Saren had eyes and ears on virtually every world scattered across the Verge. Wherever the bounty hunter turned up next, one of his contacts would let him know.

He could issue an order to have Skarr arrested, but he doubted the krogan would let himself be taken alive. Having him die in a gun battle with local authorities wouldn’t get Saren any closer to whoever was behind the attack on Sidon. No, the better thing to do was to simply find him and follow him, as he’d done on Elysium. Eventually the krogan would lead him right to his employer.

Edan Had’dah was once again spending the night inside the loathsome warehouse outside Hatre. Once again, he was sitting in the uncomfortable chair waiting for Skarr to arrive. And once again, he was accompanied by his personal guard: the same Blue Sun mercs who had been there for the first meeting with the krogan. The ones who’d survived, anyway.

But this time, Edan knew, he had the upper hand. Kahlee Sanders was not dead. He’d paid the bounty hunter good money to do a job, and Skarr had failed. This time, Edan swore, he would be the one to dictate the terms of their meeting.

The warehouse was full of large shipping crates and cargo containers. A small area had been cleared out in the back for Edan to conduct his business; from this position it was normally difficult to hear when someone arrived at the front door. But there was no mistaking the loud pounding when the krogan showed up.

“Make sure you take his weapons,” Edan called out as a pair of batarian mercs went to fetch the new arrival. “All of them,” their employer added, vividly remembering the knife Skarr had snuck in last time.

From the front came the sounds of a loud argument; though he couldn’t quite hear the words he could clearly make out the bass tones of the krogan’s deep rumble. A minute later one of the batarians came back alone.

“The krogan won’t hand over his weapons,” he said.

“What?” Edan asked, surprised.

“He won’t hand over his weapons. And he’s wearing full armor.”

“I won’t meet with him if he’s armed,” Edan vowed.

“That’s what I told him,” the merc responded, tilting his head to the left in a gesture of supplication. “He just laughed. Said he was happy to walk away and consider your business arrangement over.”

Edan cursed under his breath. The krogan had been paid in full up front. Normally a batarian would never agree to such terms, but exceptions had to be made for a man of Skarr’s reputation.

“Let him keep his weapons,” he finally relented. “Escort him back here.”

“Is that wise?”

“Tell your men they are free to kill him this time if he tries anything. Make sure the bounty hunter hears you.”

The merc smiled, anticipating a chance for revenge, and headed back to the front. When he returned the bounty hunter was with him, and he looked angry. Edan had never actually seen a krogan Battle Master in full armor before. It was a terrifying sight: like a living tank rolling toward him. It was all he could do not to take a step back.

Skarr’s weapons weren’t drawn, but a full arsenal was slotted into his armor: a pistol on either hip; a collapsible heavy-fire assault rifle and high-powered shotgun were slung across his back. His armor had several small holes in the chest, each one ringed with discolored blood. Dark stains ran down from the wounds, tainting the armor and serving as mute testimony to the battle he had fought on Elysium.

The Blue Suns watched him closely; nine assault rifles tracking him every step of the way. The krogan didn’t seem to care; he only had eyes for the man who’d hired him. He bore down on him with long, heavy strides, the relentless
clump-clump-clump
of his boots the only sound in the warehouse. For a brief second Edan thought he wouldn’t stop—he’d just keep walking, churning the batarian’s smaller frame beneath his feet, grinding him into pulp. Instead, he pulled up less than a meter away, his breath coming in angry, rasping grunts.

“You failed,” Edan said. He’d meant it to come out as a stinging accusation, but standing in the shadow of the massive killer before him took all the bravado from his voice.

“
You
didn’t tell me I’d have to deal with a Spectre!” Skarr snarled back.

“A Spectre?” Edan said with surprise. “Are you certain?”

“I know a Spectre when I see one!” Skarr roared. “Especially this one. Turian bastard!”

The corners of Edan’s mouth turned down in an expression of displeasure, but he didn’t say anything. This was bad. He knew Skarr was talking about Saren; the turian was easily the most infamous Spectre in the Verge. He was known for three things: his ruthlessness, his loyalty to the Council, and his ability to get results.

“I make it a habit never to get involved in Spectre business,” Skarr said, his voice dropping to a low growl. “You knew that when you hired me. You tricked me, batarian.”

“My guards will fire on you if you try anything,” Edan said quickly, sensing the implied threat. “You might kill me, but you’ll never get out of here alive.”

The krogan’s big head rolled from side to side, glancing at the armed mercs and evaluating his chances. Realizing this was a battle even he couldn’t win, he slowly took a step back from Edan.

“I guess we’re in this together then,” he snorted. “But you’re going to have to double my fee.”

Edan blinked in surprise. This was not how he expected the negotiations to go.

“You’re not bargaining from a position of power,” he pointed out. “You didn’t complete the job. If anything, I should ask for a refund. Or I could just have my men eliminate you now.”

Skarr barked out a loud laugh. “You’re right. Sanders is still alive. She’s probably talking to Saren right now, telling him everything she knows. How long until he figures out you were behind all this? How long until he shows up on Camala?”

The batarian didn’t answer.

“Sooner or later that Spectre will track you down,” the bounty hunter warned, pressing his point. “When he does, your only hope of staying alive is to have me on your side.”

Edan brought his hands together, forming a five-fingered steeple as he considered the situation. The krogan was correct; he needed his help now more than ever. But he wasn’t willing to admit total defeat.

“Very well,” he conceded, “I’ll double your pay. But in exchange you’ll have to do something for me.”

Skarr didn’t say anything, but merely waited for the batarian to continue.

“I was never at Sidon,” Edan explained. “Sanders has no knowledge of my identity. With the files at the base destroyed, there is only one connection left linking me to this crime: Dr. Qian’s supplier here on Camala.”

“Dah’tan Manufacturing,” Skarr said after only a moment’s hesitation, quickly putting the pieces together. Once again Edan was impressed at how quickly his mind worked. “Does Sanders know about the supplier?”

“I can’t be sure,” Edan admitted. “But if she mentions it, that’s the first place the Spectre will go. I’m not willing to take that risk.”

“So what do you need from me?”

“I ordered you to come back to this world so you could wipe out Dah’tan Manufacturing. Eliminate all the personnel, all the records. Burn it to the ground. Leave nothing behind.
Nothing.
”

“You brought me back for that?” Skarr spat out. “Are you stupid? Saren’s going to have his people watching for me. He’s probably already on his way here to try and track me down. We attack Dah’tan and he’ll be there inside an hour. You’d practically lead him straight to your supplier!”

“He might learn about Dah’tan from Sanders anyway,” Edan countered. He refused to back down this time. He was tired of losing face to this brute. “You can get in, finish the job, and disappear before Saren ever arrives,” he insisted. “By the time he gets to Dah’tan all the evidence will be destroyed and you can be long gone. There won’t be anything left for him to find.

“You’ll just have to work fast.”

“That’s how mistakes get made,” the bounty hunter argued. “I don’t like sloppy missions. Tell your men to go in without me.”

“This is not open to negotiation!” Edan shouted, finally losing his temper. “I hired you to kill someone! You failed! I demand something for the money I’m paying you!”

Skarr shook his head in disbelief. “You know it was a mistake bringing me back here for this. I thought you were smart enough not to put your pride ahead of business.”

“You thought wrong,” Edan replied, no longer shouting. But his voice was cold as ice. It was more than simple pride; batarian culture placed tremendous value on social caste. He was a man of high standing; if he simply forgave the krogan for this failure it would be an admission that they were equals … something he was not about to do.

The krogan took another long look at the Blue Suns stationed around the warehouse, their guns still raised and ready and pointing right at him. “Dah’tan has heavy security,” he finally said. “How are we even supposed to get inside?”

“I have some of their people on my payroll,” Edan replied with just a hint of smugness. He’d finally managed to back Skarr into a corner. They were bargaining on his terms now.

“You really think these
hrakhors
are good enough to handle a job like this?” the bounty hunter asked, making one last attempt to get out of it.

“They were good enough to take out the Alliance soldiers at Sidon.”

“They screwed that mission up,” Skarr objected.

“That’s why I’m sending you along this time” was Edan’s smug reply.

Anderson flashed his military ID and slipped his thumb into the portable scanner held by the Alliance guard working the port authority entrance. The young man, who’d jumped to stand at attention as they’d approached, glanced down at the computer screen to confirm the readout.

“Sir,” the guard replied with a curt nod, handing it back to him a moment later. The lieutenant did his best not to hold his breath as Kahlee placed her own thumb into the scanner and handed over her phony ID and the optical storage disk with the counterfeit authorization orders they’d purchased earlier that day.

The man who’d forged them had come to the house first thing in the morning, arriving less than ten minutes after Grissom’s phone call. He was young—no older than twenty by Anderson’s guess. He was dressed in shabby, wrinkled civvies and he had long, greasy black hair. His face was covered with a dark growth he was trying to pass off as a beard, and it looked like he hadn’t showered in a week. The admiral didn’t say who the man was or how he knew him.

“He’s a professional,” he told Anderson. “He works fast, and he won’t rat you out.”

When he first arrived, the kid had looked in surprise at the broken windows, the smashed furniture, and the burned hole in the lawn where the shotgun blast had narrowly missed decapitating the krogan. But he hadn’t asked any questions. Not about that, anyway.

“What do you need?” was all he had said once he was inside, setting a nondescript case he had with him on the kitchen table.

“Something to get them into the restricted loading bays at the spaceport,” Grissom had replied. “Plus a disguise and a new ID for Kahlee. They need to leave today.”

“I gotta charge extra for a rush job,” he warned.

Grissom just nodded. “I’ll forward it like always.”

The young man opened the case to reveal an array of unusual tools, gadgets, and exotic equipment Anderson couldn’t even begin to guess the function of. Using a variety of these, it took him half an hour to produce an OSD with the appropriate authorizations. It took another twenty minutes to encode a new name and rank on Kahlee’s Alliance ID—Corporal Suzanne Weathers.

“That’s not going to work,” Anderson warned. “They won’t have any records for Corporal Weathers in their systems.”

“They will twenty minutes after I leave here,” the kid assured with a cocky grin. “I’ll add Corporal Weathers to the system. Then I’ll mirror all Kahlee’s data and block system access to her file. When they scan her thumbprint it’ll be Weathers who shows up on their screens, not Sanders.”

“You have access to the Alliance data files?” Anderson asked in disbelief.

“Only the ones at the ports. Don’t try to use this ID once you’re off Elysium.”

“I didn’t think it was possible to infiltrate the Alliance systems,” Anderson said, fishing for information.

“You sure I can trust this guy?” the kid asked Grissom.