Drew Karpyshyn - Retribution

“I probably shouldn’t say this,” he said, “but I share your opinion of Din Korlak. He’s an arrogant, self-entitled whiner.”

“With humorous intent,” the elcor replied, “just be glad you do not share an office with him.”

It was a classic military ploy: strengthen an alliance by focusing on a common enemy. Anderson was relieved to see that at least some of what he’d learned as a soldier could be applied to his new role.

“Next time that little butterball interrupts one of us at the talks,” he told Calyn with a grin, “I should smack him hard enough to send him rolling out into the hall.”

“Shock and horror,” the elcor responded, his monotone words explicitly stating the emotional state completely absent from his appearance and demeanor. “Violence is not the answer.”

“I wasn’t serious,” Anderson explained quickly. “It was a joke.”

He’d managed to go twenty-five years as a soldier without stepping on a mine, but as a politician he couldn’t even manage one meal without blowing himself up.

“Humans have a disturbing sense of humor,” the elcor replied.

They continued the rest of the meal in silence.

By the time Anderson got back to his office after lunch, he was seriously thinking about retirement. He was only forty-nine; thanks to advances in science and medicine he had at least another twenty years before age began to take any significant physical toll. Mentally, however, he was exhausted.

It wasn’t hard to explain. As a soldier he had always understood the value in what he did. As a politician, he was always frustrated by his inability to get anything done. In fact, the only time he ever felt like he made any difference whatsoever was when something went wrong … like with Calyn.

“How was your lunch, Admiral?” Cerise, the receptionist at the human embassy, asked as he entered the building.

“Should have stayed in the office,” he grumbled.

“Be glad you didn’t,” she corrected him. “Din Korlak and Orinia came by looking for you.”

Anderson wasn’t sorry he’d missed the volus ambassador, but he wouldn’t have minded speaking with Orinia. Anderson’s turian counterpart during the ongoing trade negotiations was a former general.

And even though they had seen action on opposite sides during the First Contact war, they shared a common set of military values: discipline, honor, duty, and a barely hidden contempt for the political bullshit they now endured on a daily basis.

“Do you know what they wanted?”

“I think Din wanted to file a formal complaint about something one of your aides said during the last session of negotiations.”

“You think?”

“When they found out you weren’t here, Orinia managed to talk him out of it.”

Anderson nodded, certain he’d still get an earful from Din about it at the next round of negotiations.

“That reminds me,” he said, trying to appear nonchalant. “Might be a good idea to extend a formal invitation to the elcor delegation to join us here at the embassy after today’s talks.”

“Why?” Cerise asked, suddenly suspicious. “What did you do?”

She’s a sharp one. Can’t sneak anything past her.

“I think I offended Calyn with a joke.”

“I didn’t know the elcor had a sense of humor.”

“Apparently they don’t.”

“Don’t worry,” the young woman assured him. “I’ll take care of it.”

Grateful, Anderson took the elevator to his office. He had thirty minutes before the scheduled meeting with his advisers to prepare for the afternoon’s talks. He planned to spend the entire time alone, just savoring some much-needed peace and quiet.

When he saw the blinking light on his extranet terminal indicating a message waiting for him, he nearly picked it up and threw it out the window. He thought briefly about ignoring it; he had a list of ten people he could imagine it being from, and he didn’t want to hear from any of them. But in the end his soldier’s training wouldn’t let him be derelict in his duty. He logged on to the terminal, hanging his head in resignation.

“David: I need to see you right away.”

His head snapped back up in surprise as he recognized the voice of Kahlee Sanders.

“It’s important. An emergency.”

He hadn’t spoken to her since Grissom’s funeral. Even then, they had exchanged only a few pleasantries, carefully avoiding any mention of their time together on the run twenty years ago.

“I’m on the Citadel. I can’t say where. Please — contact me as soon as you get this.”

Before the message had even ended he was sending a reply. Kahlee wasn’t the type to overreact or blow things out of proportion; if she claimed it was an emergency, it had to be something very serious.

She answered immediately, her face appearing on the view screen.

“David? Thank God.”

He was relieved to see she wasn’t hurt, though it was easy to tell from her expression that she was upset.

“I just got back to the office,” he said by way of apology for keeping her waiting.

“Is this a secure line?”

Anderson shook his head. “Not really. Standard diplomatic protocols. Easy to hack.”

“We need to meet in person.”

There was a long pause, and Anderson realized she didn’t want to openly suggest a location in case someone else was listening in.

“Remember where we said goodbye after Saren filed his mission report from Camala?”

“Good idea. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Give me thirty,” he replied. “I need to make sure I’m not followed.”

She nodded.

“David? Thank you. I didn’t know where else to turn.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, trying to reassure her … though of what, he couldn’t even begin to guess.

The call disconnected. Anderson rose from his chair, locked up his office, and headed back downstairs.

“I have to go, Cerise,” he said to the receptionist on his way out. Remembering the concern etched on Kahlee’s features, he added, “Don’t expect me back for a few days.”

“What about the trade negotiations?” she asked, taken aback by his sudden departure.

“Udina will have to take my place.”

“This isn’t going to make him happy,” Cerise warned.

“Nothing ever does.”

Anderson took three monorails and two cabs, transferring between four different levels of the Citadel space station to make sure he wasn’t followed. He didn’t know what Kahlee was afraid of, but the last thing he wanted to do was get careless and lead whoever she was hiding from right to her.

Once he was confident nobody was tailing him, he made his way back up to the Presidium. In addition to the embassies for all the species residing in Council space, the Citadel’s inner ring also housed a spectacular park. Grass, trees, flowers, birds, and insects from dozens of different worlds had been chosen and carefully reengineered to coexist in a verdant paradise where diplomats, ambassadors, and other functionaries could go to escape the stresses and pressures of government work.

In the center of the park was a shimmering lake. Twenty years ago he had met Kahlee there on the shore only minutes after learning his application to become the first human Spectre had been rejected because of a report filed by Saren Arterius.

Anderson didn’t consider himself a vindictive man, but he couldn’t help but feel a smug satisfaction knowing the turian who had derailed his candidacy had eventually been revealed as a traitor.

He made his way across the grass to the edge of the lake. He didn’t see Kahlee. Knowing she was probably lurking nearby in an inconspicuous hiding place, he sat down, removed his shoes and socks, then dangled his feet off the bank. The temperature-controlled water was just cool enough to be refreshing.