Mass Effect: The Complete Novels 4-Book Bundle (47 page)

The timing had to be perfect, though. The
Idenna
would still have internal communications, and as soon as the transmitter was knocked out the bridge would alert everyone on board. Grayson wanted to wait until the security team coming to meet them had been dealt with before that happened.

“Alpha team,” Grayson said into his combat helmet’s transmitter, “you’re going to have company when the airlock opens. Report in as soon as you take them out.”

A few seconds later they heard several sharp bursts of gunfire coming from just outside the ship.

“Enemy is down,” the Alpha team leader replied. “No casualties on our end.”

“Take out the transmitter,” Grayson said, and the pilot fired the laser, shearing off the dish in a quick, clean cut. The shipboard alarms kicked in almost immediately.

“Now the fun begins,” Golo said, and behind his mask Grayson knew he was grinning.

TWENTY-THREE

“What’s happening?” Kahlee demanded, shouting over the distant alarms.

The captain listened intently to an incoming message, then relayed the news to the rest of them. “The
Cyniad,
one of our scout ships, just docked with us. They knocked out our tight-beam transmitter.”

“I was searching for the crew of the
Cyniad
when I found you in that warehouse,” Lemm told them, speaking quickly. “I thought your captors had some connection to the scout ship.”

“Cerberus,” Hendel said. “They’re coming for Gillian.”

“What about the security team you sent to meet them?” Kahlee asked, remembering the captain’s earlier instructions. “Isli and the others?”

“No response,” Mal said, his voice grim. They all knew what that likely meant.

“If it’s Cerberus, they’ll be coming straight for this shuttle,” Hendel warned them. “They’ll want to grab Gillian and get out quick, before you can organize any resistance.”

“Do you have any weapons on board?” Lemm asked.

Kahlee shook her head. “The rifle we took from the warehouse is nearly out of ammo. Hendel’s biotic, but that’s all we’ve got.”

“Call for a security detail,” the big man said.

“They won’t get here in time,” Mal replied. “The
Cyniad
’s only two bays over.”

We can’t even seal the shuttle and make a run for it,
Kahlee realized.
We’d never disconnect the docking clamps in time.

“Come on,” she said, jumping to her feet. “We can’t hold them off in here.”

The five of them—two quarians and three humans—raced from the shuttle through the airlock out into the landing bay of the
Idenna.
Hendel had to half-drag and half-carry Gillian to keep up; the alarms were disorienting her, and she was moving with slow, distracted steps.

“Trading deck!” Mal shouted. “We have weapons in the storeroom.”

As they ran through the crowded halls and corridors of the ship, Kahlee couldn’t help imagining what would happen when the Cerberus troops arrived to find Grayson’s shuttle empty. The quarians had no reason to ever expect an attack inside the confines of their Fleet vessels, and ready access to firearms in such crowded living conditions was normally a recipe for disaster. As a result, no one except a handful of security details carried weapons. If armed Cerberus agents started searching for Gillian through the populated decks, it would turn into a massacre.

Mal was shouting instructions into his radio, trying to organize reinforcements to drive back the enemy.

“We need to make a stand!” Kahlee shouted. “Hold them on the trading deck. If we don’t, hundreds will die.”

He nodded, and relayed the instructions to the bridge.

How did they find us here?
Kahlee wondered as she ran, followed quickly by,
Is there nowhere in the galaxy Gillian can escape them?

The Cerberus team arrived at Grayson’s old shuttle to find it abandoned.

“They must have gone into the ship to hide,” Golo guessed.

“How many quarians on board?” Grayson demanded.

“Between six and seven hundred,” Golo estimated. “But only a couple dozen will be armed. You stay here with a small team to secure the shuttle, and I’ll take the rest with me. We’ll find Gillian and bring her back here.”

Grayson shook his head. “She’s my daughter. I’m coming with you.”

“Forget it,” Golo replied. “We don’t need you in there.”

“I’m in charge of this mission,” Grayson reminded him.

“And I’m the only one who knows his way around a quarian ship,” Golo countered. “You can’t do this without me, and I’m not going in there with you as part of my team.

“You’re too emotionally involved,” he continued, almost apologetic. “You’re not thinking straight, and you’re not ready for this.”

Grayson didn’t argue the point. He’d barely slept since escaping Pel’s warehouse; he was just a duster running on adrenaline and desperation. Exhaustion and withdrawal would slow his reaction time and impair his judgment, putting the entire team in jeopardy.

“If you really want your daughter back,” the quarian added in a sensitive whisper, “the best thing you can do is wait here and get the shuttle ready for our escape.”

Golo was playing him; pushing his emotional buttons. The quarian didn’t care what happened to Gillian. He was just a lying, manipulative, son-of-a-bitch who was only looking out for his own self-interest. But that didn’t mean he was wrong.

They’re better off without you. For the sake of the mission—for Gillian’s sake—you have to sit this one out.

“You, you, and you,” Grayson said, pointing to the pilot and two others. “Stay here with me. The rest of you go with Golo. Remember, we only have thirty minutes to get off this vessel.”

“If the humans went into the ship they’re probably wearing enviro-suits,” Golo noted almost casually.

Grayson swore silently at the extra complication. “The Illusive Man wants Gillian alive and unharmed,” he reminded the eight soldiers going with Golo, stressing the point to make sure they understood. “Don’t shoot at anything smaller than a full-grown quarian.”

“Not unless you’re close enough to count the fingers,” Golo added with a laugh.

“The bridge is sealing off sections of the ship,” Mal told them as he passed out the guns stored in the stockroom with the food, medicine, and other carefully tracked supplies. “It won’t stop them, but it might slow them down. The civilians are being evacuated to the upper decks, and I’ve ordered all security teams to meet us down here.”

Kahlee took the assault rifle he handed her, hefting it to test the weight. It was a cheap volus knock-off of a turian design—a substandard weapon, but it was better than nothing.

Glancing around the room, she considered their chances. There was only one entrance onto the trading deck from the loading bays: Cerberus would have to come straight down a long, narrow hall right to them. But if they got past that first door, they would find plenty of cover among the oversized crates and bins used to store merchandise that were scattered all about the room. A well-organized strike team would have no problem spreading out and trying to flank Mal’s people. And if they had to fall back there was only one place to go—up to the heavily populated living quarters of the deck above.

Two quarian security teams were already on the trading deck. By the time Mal had finished passing out weapons to Kahlee, Lemm, and Hendel, four more security teams had arrived from the decks above.

“Everyone spread out and find cover,” the captain ordered. “Hold the doors to the landing bay for as long as you can. If I give the order, fall back to the level above.”

The quarians scrambled to find their positions, and Kahlee turned to Gillian. She wasn’t moving or looking around; she simply stared straight ahead at nothing, her arms hanging limp by her sides.

“Do you remember where Seeto’s room is?” Kahlee asked, trying not to think about the fact that the young quarian, along with Isli and Ugho, was probably already dead.

Gillian didn’t answer her at first, but simply stood still and quiet, gazing off into the distance from behind her mask.

“Gillian!” Kahlee shouted. “This is important!” The girl turned her head slowly toward her.

“Do you remember when Seeto showed us his room?” Kahlee repeated. The girl nodded once. “Do you know where it is?”

“The deck above us,” she answered, in a flat monotone that indicated she was slipping farther and farther away from her surroundings. “The first cubicle in the group along the fourth column and the sixth row.”

“I need you to go there and wait for me or Hendel to come get you!” Kahlee shouted. “Do you understand? Go to Seeto’s room and hide!”

Gillian gave the familiar single nod, then turned and walked slowly over toward the freight elevator.

“The stairs, Gillian,” Kahlee shouted after her, knowing the elevator wouldn’t be operational with the ship in emergency lockdown. “You have to take the stairs!”

The girl didn’t look back at her, she simply altered her course and headed for the stairs.

“You sure about sending her off alone?” Hendel asked, checking the sights and autotargeting system on his own weapon.

Kahlee wasn’t sure. In fact, she hated it. But she didn’t see any other option.

“She can’t stay here,” she said. “And we can’t send anyone with her. Mal’s going to need every possible body if we have any hope of holding this position.”

Hendel nodded, agreeing with her assessment of the grim situation, then ran off to find a cover spot behind one of the overflowing metal bins that gave him a clear shot at anyone coming in from the landing bay. Kahlee did the same, hunkering down behind a large steel crate filled with pots and pans.

Cerberus didn’t keep them waiting long.

The assault began with a handful of grenades lobbed through the door and into the trading deck. None of Mal’s team were positioned close enough to the entrance to be caught in the blast range, but when the grenades detonated they sent several of the crates, and their contents, flying through the air. No one was injured, but it served as a distraction as the first wave of two Cerberus soldiers pushed forward to the edge of the door.

Kahlee and the others opened fire, trying to drive them back. Trusting in their armor’s kinetic barriers, the enemy returned fire as they sprinted forward through the entrance toward one of the nearby crates that promised them cover.

The plan would have worked if not for Hendel. While Kahlee and the quarians were unloading round after ineffective round into the enemy shields, the biotic had been gathering his strength. Just as the Cerberus soldiers ducked behind the crate they assumed would give them shelter, Hendel lifted it high into the air, exposing them to another barrage of concentrated assault-rifle fire.

Their shields, still depleted from their initial charge through the door, couldn’t save them from a second hail of bullets. Both men were torn to shreds, and Kahlee felt a burst of triumphant exultation.

Her euphoria was short lived. The second wave of Cerberus soldiers—this time a group of three—followed only a few seconds after the first, using the same techniques. Hendel needed more time to recharge before he could unleash his powers again, so this time the trio made it safely to the cover of one of the bins. Protected from enemy fire, they were able to regroup and recharge their shields, then quickly strike out again.

They burst from their cover at the same time, all three moving in different directions as they scattered to and fro among the maze of crates and containers. Kahlee focused on the nearest enemy, losing track of the other two. She tried to take him down with well-aimed bursts as he moved from cover point to cover point, but he knew the limits of his shields, and he always managed to duck out of the line of fire just before they were completely drained.

She saw he was trying to work around to the far side of the room, attempting to get to a position where he could sneak up on the defenders from behind. From the corner of her eye Kahlee saw one of the quarians step out from the crate he was hiding behind to try and cut him off, only to get mowed down by the weapons of the third wave of four Cerberus troops charging through the door.

It was then that Kahlee realized how hopeless the situation was. Despite having a two-or three-to-one edge in numbers, the tactical and technological advantages of the Cerberus agents were too much to overcome. They had better weapons, better armor, and better training. Half of Mal’s team—including Lemm, the captain, Hendel, and Kahlee herself—weren’t even wearing body armor.

And Cerberus had grenades.

As if on cue, she heard a loud boom over on the far side of the deck. Whipping her head around she saw the smoke from the explosion clearing to reveal the burned and lifeless bodies of two quarians who had been caught in the deadly blast.

At least they had Hendel on their side. The big man poked his head out from behind his crate and unleashed another biotic attack, this one hurling two Cerberus soldiers backward from their hiding places, sending them both crashing against a nearby wall. One landed hard, quickly scrambling to her feet and making it safely back behind cover. Kahlee squeezed the trigger of her weapon and made sure the other one didn’t.

An instant later, however, Hendel was the one flying backward through the air—Cerberus apparently had a biotic on their team, too. He shouted out in surprise, then slammed hard against the wall behind the desk outside the stockroom where they had grabbed their guns. He crumpled to the ground and didn’t rise.

“Hendel!” she cried out, fighting against the suicidal urge to leap up and rush over to check on him.

Instead she turned her attention back on the enemy, drawing on her years of Alliance training to stay focused. Soldiers went down in combat, even friends. Usually there wasn’t anything you could do to help them until the enemy was neutralized.

She held her position, picking her targets carefully. She saw one more Cerberus soldier go down—by her count that left five, including the biotic. But all around her she could hear the screams of Mal’s people. When the Cerberus biotic launched another attack, batting aside the bin shielding a quarian armed with a sniper rifle so she could be gunned down, the captain finally gave the order Kahlee had known was coming.

“Fall back!” he shouted. “Fall back!”

She didn’t want to leave Hendel behind, but attempting to reach him now would almost guarantee her getting shot. Blinking away the harsh tears in her eyes, she lay down a line of cover fire as she began to make her retreat.

Gillian wandered back and forth along the grid of cubicles, silently counting until she reached the one blocked by the bright orange curtain. Far away she could hear the sharp retorts and ricochets of sounds she couldn’t—or didn’t want to—consciously identify.

She knew something was wrong, and she knew it was somehow her fault. But though she fought to piece together what was going on, the truth eluded her. Shocked into a trancelike state by the stress of the situation, all her fractured mind could latch on to were disconnected bits and pieces.