Mass Effect: The Complete Novels 4-Book Bundle (24 page)

He helped her to her feet, and it was only then that she noticed all the other dead bodies in the room. Anderson didn’t say anything, but simply handed her one of the dead men’s assault rifles, then grabbed his own weapon.

“We better take these,” he told her, remembering Saren’s grim advice about shooting civilians. “Let’s just pray we don’t have to use them.”

TWENTY-TWO

The explosion in the refinery core had exactly the impact Saren was hoping for. Panic and chaos descended over the plant. The alarms had sent people fleeing for the exits, frantic to get away from the destruction. But while everyone else was running out, Saren was working his way farther in, moving against the flow of the crowd. Most of the people ignored him, concentrating only on their own desperate flight.

He had to act quickly. The detonation he’d set off had only been the first in a chain reaction that would cause the vats of molten ore to overheat. When they erupted, all the machinery in the processing core would ignite in flames. The turbines and generators would overload, triggering a series of explosions that would reduce the entire plant to burning rubble.

Scanning the crowd Saren at last saw what he was looking for: a small group of Blue Sun mercs, heavily armed and moving together as a single unit. Like Saren, they were heading deeper into the plant.

All he had to do was follow them.

“What are we waiting for?” Qian screamed, almost hysterical. He held up a small metal case and waved it frantically in Edan’s face. Inside was a flash drive containing all the data they had gathered on the project. “We have everything we need right here. Let’s go!”

“Not yet,” the batarian said, trying to remain calm despite the claxon’s ringing so loudly he could barely hear himself think. “Wait for our escorts to arrive.” He knew the explosion in the core was more than just a coincidence, and he wasn’t about to go running out into a trap. Not without his bodyguards.

“What about them?” Qian shouted, pointing at the two mercs standing nervously just outside the door of the room in which he had been holed up ever since the attack on Sidon.

“They’re not enough,” Edan replied. “I’m not taking any chances. We wait for the rest of—”

His words were cut off by the sound of gunfire from the other room, mingling with the alarms and shouts from his guards. This was followed by a second of silence, and then an unfamiliar figure appeared at the door.

“Your escort isn’t going to make it,” the armored turian said.

Even though he’d never met the man before, Edan instantly recognized him. “I know you,” he said. “The Spectre. Saren.”

“You did this!” Qian screamed, pointing a shaking finger at Saren. “This is your fault!”

“Are you going to kill us now?” Edan asked. Surprisingly, he wasn’t afraid. It was as if he’d known this moment was coming all along. And now that his death was upon him he felt only a strange sense of calm.

But the turian didn’t kill them. Instead, he asked a question. “What were you working on at Sidon?”

“Nothing!” Qian shouted, clutching the metal case to his chest. “It’s ours!”

Edan recognized the look in Saren’s eye. He’d made his entire fortune off that look: hunger, desire, the lust to possess.

“You know,” he whispered, realizing the truth. “Not everything. But just enough so that you want to know more.” A faint smile creased his lips. There was a chance he might still get out of this alive.

“Shut up!” Qian screamed at him. “He’ll take it from us!”

“I don’t think so,” Edan replied, speaking more to Saren than the raving scientist. “We have something he wants. He needs to keep us alive.”

“Not both of you,” Saren warned.

Something in his tone pierced the veil of Qian’s madness. “You need me,” he insisted in a rare moment of lucidity. “You need my research. My expertise.” He was speaking quickly, desperate and scared. However, it wasn’t clear if he was more frightened of death, or of losing out on the chance to continue his obsessive research. “Without me you’ll never understand it. Never figure out how to unlock its power. I’m essential to the project!”

Saren raised his pistol and pointed it straight at the babbling human, then he turned his head toward Edan.

“Is this true?” he asked the batarian.

Edan shrugged. “We have copies of all his research, and I have my own team studying the artifact. Qian is brilliant but he’s become … erratic. I think the time has come for him to be replaced.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Saren fired. Qian went rigid and toppled over backwards, a single bullet hole in his forehead. The metal case fell from his hands and clattered to the floor, the flash drive inside well-protected from the impact by the padded interior.

“And what about you?” the Spectre asked, aiming the pistol at the batarian.

When he’d thought there was no hope of survival Edan had been calm, resigned to his fate. Now that he saw a chance to escape with his life, the gun pointed in his direction filled him with a cold fear.

“I know where it is,” he said. “How will you find it without my help?”

Saren nodded his head in the direction of the metal case. “There’s probably something in there that’ll tell me what I need to know.”

“I … I have resources,” Edan stammered, scrambling to find another argument capable of staying the executioner’s hand. “People. Power. Money. The cost of the project is astronomical. If you kill me, how will you fund it?”

“You aren’t the only one with wealth and influence,” the turian reminded him. “I can find another moneyman without even leaving the Verge.”

“Think of how much time and effort I’ve put into this!” Edan blurted out. “Kill me and you’ll have to start from scratch!”

Saren stayed silent, but he did tilt his head slightly to the side as if considering what the batarian had said.

“You have no idea what this thing is capable of,” Edan continued, pressing his point. “It’s like nothing the galaxy has ever seen before. Even with Qian’s files you won’t find anybody who can just step in and resume work on the project.

“I’ve been involved from the beginning. I have a fundamental understanding of what we’re dealing with. Nobody else in the galaxy can offer you that.”

From the expression on the turian’s face it was obvious he was buying into Edan’s argument.

“If you kill me, you don’t just lose my financial backing, you lose my experience. You might find someone else to fund the project, but that will take time. If you kill me, you’ll be starting over from the beginning.

“You’re not going to throw away three years of my groundwork just so you can have the satisfaction of shooting me.”

“I don’t mind waiting a few extra years,” Saren replied as he squeezed the trigger. “I’m a very patient man.”

Kahlee and Anderson were still inside the main building of the refinery when the second explosion came. The blast originated near the processing core’s vats of molten ore; a geyser of fiery liquid erupted from the heart of the facility, shooting up three hundred meters into the sky. The glowing pillar mushroomed, spreading out to illuminate the night before collapsing to rain red hot death down over everything within a half-kilometer radius.

“Keep moving!” Anderson shouted, straining to be heard above the shrieking alarms. The plant was already structurally weakened by the first two explosions, and more were sure to follow. “We have to get outside before this place caves in on us!”

He led the way, one hand clutching the assault rifle, the other clenching Kahlee’s wrist as he dragged the weakened young woman along with him. They emerged from the plant, racing for the perimeter fence, the lieutenant frantically scanning the area around them for any signs of pursuit.

“My God!” Kahlee gasped, pulling up short and forcing Anderson to do the same. He glanced back and saw her staring out into the distance. He turned to follow her gaze, then whispered a small prayer of his own.

The entire work camp was ablaze. Shielded by the roof and walls of the refinery, the two humans had been protected from the deluge of molten ore. Those outside the plant—the men, women, and children in the work camps—were not so lucky. Every building seemed to be on fire; a fierce orange wall of flames ringing them in.

“We’ll never get through that,” Kahlee moaned, collapsing to the ground, overwhelmed with exhaustion and fatigue.

Another explosion shook the facility. Glancing back Anderson saw the plant was on fire now, too. By the light of the flames he could see dark vapors crawling out from the windows—toxic chemical clouds released by the destruction.

“Don’t give up!” Anderson shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders and hauling her to her feet. “We can make it!”

Kahlee only shook her head. He could see it in her eyes; after everything she’d already been through since the destruction of Sidon, this was finally too much for her. She didn’t have anything left; she’d finally given in to despair.

“I can’t. I’m too tired,” she said, slumping back down. “Just leave me.”

He couldn’t carry her the rest of the way; they had too far to go. And with her draped over his back he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to get through the flame-engulfed work camp without them both burning to death.

Kahlee hadn’t enlisted to serve on the battlefront. She was a scientist, a thinker. But all of humanity’s soldiers went through the same basic training—before they became part of the Alliance they had to endure months of grueling physical ordeals. They were taught to push themselves to their limits and beyond. And when their bodies threatened to simply keel over from fatigue and exhaustion, they had to find a way to keep going. They had to break through the mental barriers holding them back and push further than they ever imagined was possible.

It was a right of passage, a bond shared by every man and woman in the Systems Alliance Military. It united them and gave them strength; transformed them into living symbols—flesh and blood manifestations of the indomitable human spirit.

Anderson knew he had to tap into that now. “Damn it, Sanders!” he shouted at her. “Don’t you dare quit on me now! Your unit is moving out, so get up off your ass and get your feet moving! That’s an order!”

Like a good soldier, Kahlee responded to his commands. Somehow she got back to her feet, still clutching her weapon. She broke into a slow, lumbering run—her will forcing her body to do what her mind told her it couldn’t. Anderson watched her for a second to make sure she wouldn’t topple over, then fell into step behind her, matching Kahlee’s pace as they raced toward the smoke, screams, and flames coming from the buildings in front of them.

The work camp had become Hell itself. The roaring of the flames rose up from the conflagration to mingle with shrieks of pain and keening cries of terror and loss. The horrible cacophony was punctuated by the occasional earsplitting thunder of another detonation from somewhere inside the plant.

Greasy black clouds rolled across the rooftops and down to the ground as the fire leaped from building to building, devouring the entire camp, one structure at time. The heat was like a living thing, clutching and grabbing at their limbs, scraping searing claws across their skin as they ran past. Acrid smoke stung their eyes and crawled down their lungs, choking them with each breath. The sickly stench of burning flesh was everywhere.

Bodies lay strewn about the streets, many of them children. Some were victims of the molten ore that had rained down, charred husks lying in bubbling puddles of their own melted flesh. Others had succumbed to the smoke or flames, their corpses curling up into the fetal position as muscles and sinew shriveled and burned. Still others had been trampled by the stampede of those trying to escape, their limbs broken and bent at grotesque, unnatural angles; their faces smashed to a bloody pulp beneath the heedless feet of their neighbors.

For all the combat Anderson had endured, for all the battles he’d fought, for all the atrocities of war he’d witnessed firsthand, nothing had prepared the lieutenant for the horrors he saw during the remainder of their flight from the refinery. But there was nothing they could do for the victims; no aid they could offer. All they could do was put their heads down, crouch low, and keep running.

Kahlee stumbled and fell several times during their desperate flight, only to push valiantly on each time Anderson hauled her back to her feet. And by some miracle they made it through Hell alive … arriving just in time to see Saren tossing a small metal case into the back of the rover.

The turian looked at them in surprise, and in the glow from the fires of the burning camp behind them, Anderson was convinced he saw the Spectre scowl. He didn’t say anything as he climbed into the vehicle, and for a second Anderson thought Saren was going to drive away and just leave them there.

“Get in!” the turian shouted.

Maybe it was the sight of the automatic assault rifles they both still carried. Maybe he was afraid someone would find out if he abandoned them. Anderson didn’t really care; he was just glad the Spectre waited.

He helped Kahlee up into the vehicle, then scrambled in beside her. “Where’s Edan?” he asked as the engine roared to life.

“Dead.”

“What about Dr. Qian?” Kahlee wanted to know.

“Him, too.”

Saren slammed the rover into gear, the wheels kicking up small bits of sand and gravel as they took off. Anderson slumped back against his seat. All thoughts of the small metal case slipped from his mind as he surrendered to utter exhaustion.

The rover sped away into the night, leaving the grim scene of death and destruction farther and farther behind them.

EPILOGUE

Anderson stepped out from the offices of the Alliance embassy on the Citadel and into the simulated sunshine of the Presidium. He made his way down the stairs and out onto the green grass fields.

Kahlee was waiting for him down by the lake’s edge. She sat on the grass, barefoot so she could dip her toes. He came over and sat down heavily beside her, yanking off his own shoes and plunging his feet into the cool, refreshing water.

“Ahhh, that feels good.”

“That was a long meeting,” Kahlee said.

“I was afraid you might get bored waiting for me.”

“Nothing else to do,” she teased. “I already had my meeting with the ambassador. Besides, I figured I’d stick around.” In a more serious voice she added, “I owe you that much at least.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he replied, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

It was four days since they’d fled the refinery on Camala. The first night had been spent at the medical facility near the spaceports. They were treated for smoke inhalation and possible exposure to toxins released into the air during the explosions, and Kahlee was given intravenous fluids to fight off the dehydration she’d suffered during her imprisonment.

The next morning they’d been met by a contingent of Alliance representatives: soldiers to provide protection and intel officials to gather their statements. They’d been whisked onto a waiting frigate and taken to the Citadel to deliver their reports and individual accounts to the powers-that-be in person: three days of meetings, hearings, and inquiries to determine what had happened … and who was at fault.

Anderson suspected the high-level political fallout would continue for months, maybe years. But with the end of this final meeting in the ambassador’s office, it was officially over for him. For both of them.

This was the first chance they’d had to be alone since that hellish night. He wanted to reach his arm around her shoulder and pull her close, but he wasn’t sure how she’d react. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t figure out what to say. So they just sat there, side by side on the edge of the lake, not speaking.

It was Kahlee who finally broke the silence. “What did the ambassador say?”

“About what I expected,” he said with a sigh. “The Council rejected me as a candidate for the Spectres.”

“Because Saren screwed you,” she said, disgusted.

“His report doesn’t paint a very flattering portrait of me. He says I ignored the true goal of the mission. Claims I blew his cover by tipping off the mercs inside the base by going in too soon. He even manages to blame me for the explosion.”

“But it’s all lies!” Kahlee said, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“With just enough truth mixed in to sell it,” he noted. “Besides, he’s a Spectre. One of their top agents. Who are they going to believe?”

“Or maybe the Council’s just looking for an excuse to keep humans out of the Spectres. Holding the Alliance back again.”

“Maybe. But that’s Goyle’s problem now.”

“And the alien technology he discovered?” Kahlee demanded.

“The Council had its own experts study the files from Sidon,” Anderson explained. “It’s all theory and conjecture. They don’t believe there ever was any alien technology.”

“What about all the research he had us doing?” she protested. “What was he trying to accomplish?”

Anderson shrugged. “They say Qian was unstable. They think he conned Edan with wild claims and false promises based on his own psychotic delusions. And they think he was just dragging the entire Sidon project deeper and deeper into his own private madness.”

“What did the ambassador say about you?” Kahlee asked after a moment’s hesitation, her voice growing softer.

“She wasn’t too happy at first,” he admitted. “I didn’t get into the Spectres, and this mission left a hell of a political mess for her to clean up.”

“What about all the civilians who died in the explosion? The Alliance isn’t trying to pin that on you, are they?” There was no mistaking the concern in her voice, and Anderson regretted not putting his arm around her earlier.

“No. Goyle’s not looking for a scapegoat. The Council sealed all the records associated with Saren’s involvement. Officially they’re calling it an industrial accident.

“Once the ambassador calmed down I think she realized the mission wasn’t a complete failure. We found out what really happened at Sidon, and the men responsible are dead. I think she’s giving me some credit for that.”

“So this won’t hurt your military career?”

“Probably not. But it won’t help, either.”

“I’m glad,” she said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “I know how much being a soldier means to you.”

He reached up gently and placed a hand on the back of her head, pulling her in slightly as he leaned toward her. Their lips brushed for the faintest of instants before she pulled back.

“No, David,” she whispered. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled.

“They offered me a new posting at my meeting this morning. They want me to join the research team on another project. Even promoted me.”

“That’s great, Kahlee!” he exclaimed, genuinely excited for her. “Where will you be stationed?”

She gave him a wan smile. “It’s classified.”

The smile on his face fell away. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry,” she told him, trying to make light of the situation. “We’re not studying anything illegal this time.”

He didn’t answer, trying to digest the situation.

“We can make this work,” he declared suddenly. “There’s something special between us. We owe it to ourselves to give this a chance.”

“With me on a top-secret project and you always out on patrol?” She shook her head. “We’d just be kidding ourselves.”

Even though it hurt to admit it, he knew she was right.

“You’re a good man, David,” she said, trying to make the rejection less painful. “But even if I wasn’t going away I don’t think we could ever be more than just friends. The military’s always going to come first in your life. We both know that.”

He nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. “When are you shipping out?”

“Tonight,” she said. “I need to go get ready. I just wanted the chance to see you one last time. To thank you for … for everything.”

Kahlee stood up and brushed herself off, then leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good-bye, soldier.”

He didn’t watch her walk away, but instead stared out over the lake for a long, long time.

In the privacy of his small one-man craft, Saren had been studying the data on the flash drive inside Qian’s metal case for hours. His suspicions had been correct: the alien technology was a vessel of some sort. It was called
Sovereign;
a magnificent relic from the time of the Prothean extinction; an enormous warship of tremendous power.

But it was much more than a mere ship. Its systems, processes, and technology were so advanced that they dwarfed every accomplishment of the Citadel species. Its grandeur and complexity rivaled the greatest creations of the Protheans—the mass relays and the Citadel. It may have even surpassed them. And if Saren could learn and understand how it worked, he could seize all that power for himself.

He’d spent his entire life preparing for a moment like this. Everything he’d ever done—his military service, his career with the Spectres—was only a prelude to this revelation. Now he had found his true purpose; destiny had led him here.

How else to explain how perfectly everything had worked out for him? Anderson had been rejected by the Spectres. The Alliance had been politically humiliated. The Council was convinced the artifact didn’t even exist. And the only men who could have exposed him were now dead.

Their deaths didn’t come without a cost, however. Qian may have been losing his grip on reality, but just from looking at his notes it was obvious he was brilliant, a true genius. Saren understood the fundamental theories and principles of AI technology, but it was clear the human’s research was far beyond anything he could ever hope to grasp. He’d need to find someone equally brilliant to head up the study of
Sovereign;
it might take him years to locate a suitable replacement.

But he didn’t regret killing Qian. The doctor was in too deep. The notes on the flash drive showed a steady progression into dementia, a deteriorating mental state directly linked to incidents of exposure to
Sovereign
. There must have been some kind of field generated by the vessel; some kind of radiation or emission. Something that had destroyed and corrupted Qian’s mind when he went to study it in person.

It had affected Edan, too, though the transformation was more subtle. The batarian had begun acting differently from the moment he first visited the site of the artifact: consorting with humans, risking the wrath of the Spectres. Edan probably hadn’t even been aware of the changes, though looking back it was obvious to Saren.

He had to be careful. Avoid unnecessary exposure until he knew exactly what caused the mental deterioration. He’d work through intermediaries, like Edan’s research team out near the Perseus Veil.

Saren planned to contact them soon enough. Cut off from all external communications they probably had no idea what had happened to their former employer. If they were willing to work for him once they found out—and if they had shown any progress in their research—he might not have to eliminate them. At least not until the inevitable alterations to their minds and personalities began to affect their work.

There was another problem to consider, as well. The ship was just beyond the borders of the Perseus Veil, right on the edges of geth space. Eventually he’d have to deal with them … though if everything went as planned, he might be able to use
Sovereign
to bend the geth to his purpose.

The dangers were great, but the potential rewards were worth the risk. He’d just be cautious. Patient. He’d move slowly. It might take years. Maybe decades. But the secrets of the alien vessel, all its power, would one day be his to command.

Once he unleashed that power, everything would be forever changed. Never again would the turians be forced to bow before the will of the Council, as they had when they’d been commanded to make reparations for the First Contact War. At long last there would be a reckoning for the Alliance. Humanity would learn its place, along with every other species that paid homage to the Citadel.

And
Sovereign
was the key to it all.