Drew Karpyshyn - Retribution

The database matched the energy signatures to turian light frigates, each capable of holding up to a dozen crew. The station had approximately forty hands, but the majority were scientists and support staff; only a handful had real military experience. It wasn’t hard to do the math: the turians would win this battle.

Kai Leng raced to his locker, but didn’t bother to grab his clothes. Instead, he grabbed his knife and pistol — a custom-modified Kassa Fabrications Razer. Gripping the Razer in his left hand and the twelve-inch blade in his right, he raced from the fitness center.

The station lurched as the first attack vessel’s boarding ramp latched onto the exterior, nearly throwing Kai Leng to the floor. The ship shuddered twice more as the next two frigates made contact a few seconds later.

The invaders would use high-powered lasers to carve a seam in the station’s hull, then apply concentrated explosives to blow open a hole so they could board. Given the turians’ reputation for military efficiency, he figured they had less than a minute until the halls of the facility were crawling with enemy soldiers.

The station’s main hangar housed several shuttles, but it was on the far side of the station. Going there was a fool’s errand: if the turians were smart, they’d hit it first to cut off a primary evacuation route.

Fortunately, there were several small escape pods located throughout the facility … though not nearly enough for all personnel to make it out alive.

Kai Leng had taken the time to memorize the location of every one of the pods; he knew the closest was easily in reach. But he couldn’t leave yet — there was something too important he had to do.

The Illusive Man was asleep in his bed when the alarms rang out. Waking to the unexpected din, it took him a moment to orient himself. As soon as he had his bearings, he fired up the terminal at the desk in his private quarters.

He analyzed the information on the readout, evaluating their chances of victory. Seeing they were under assault by a trio of turian frigates, he immediately realized there was no hope in staying to fight. But if he was lucky — and quick — there might be enough time to terminate Grayson and still make it to one of the escape pods.

It had been over thirty years since he’d seen any active military service; he knew his skills were not what they once were. His best hope was to avoid enemy contact, but he wasn’t about to go out unprepared. Moving quickly, he pulled a Liberator combat suit from his closet and slipped it on. From the drawer in his bedside table he grabbed a Harpy pistol before unlocking the door to his room and stepping out into the hall.

He was immediately assailed by a wall of sound: shrieking alarms, shouts of fear and panic, the pounding of booted feet as the station’s crew ran up and down the hall. A scientist ran past him, his hands wrapped tightly around a Gorgon assault rifle, the heaviest armament on the station. The fact that someone had opened the armory was good; the fact that an untrained scientist was carrying one of its most powerful weapons was not.

The station was primarily a research facility; it wasn’t properly equipped or staffed to defend against a direct assault. Orbiting an insignificant planet circling an irrelevant orange dwarf star in the Terminus Systems, they relied on the secrecy of their remote location to protect them.

The deck trembled beneath his feet and he heard the faint echo of a distant explosion, and he knew the turians had breached the hull. A few seconds later he reached a t-intersection in the hall. From the left-hand corridor, he heard screams and the sounds of gunfire. He turned in the opposite direction, realizing he’d have to take a longer route if he hoped to get to Grayson’s cell while avoiding the turian patrols.

As he ran down the hall, his mind was already trying to piece together what had gone wrong. He liked to encourage the impression that Cerberus was all-knowing and all-powerful, but the truth was somewhat different. By galactic standards, they were a small organization, with limited people and finite resources.

Though the Illusive Man was a master of deploying those resources with maximum results, and had a knack for anticipating the actions of both his friends and allies, there were holes in his organization that left them vulnerable. Somehow the turians had found one. None of his agents on the Citadel had warned him of a potential attack, which meant the turians were acting alone. But how had they discovered the location of the base?

He saw Dr. Nuri coming toward him, flanked on either side by security personnel wearing heavy combat suits and armed with Gorgons.

“Come with me,” he ordered. “To the lab.”

Nuri shook her head. “We’ll never make it. The turians overran the entire wing. We have to get to the escape pods.”

Nuri was a valuable asset to Cerberus, but she had only the most basic level of combat training.

Considering she wasn’t even wearing body armor, he didn’t see any point in forcing her to accompany them.

“Get to the escape pod,” he told her. “Hold it until we get there.”

To the guards he said, “You two stay with me.”

There was no objection from the guards; they were trained soldiers, and knew better than to defy a direct order. Nuri responded with a nod before dashing off in the opposite direction.

Leading his small team, the Illusive Man was still trying to figure out how the turians had found them.

He knew Grayson had information on Cerberus. The Illusive Man had assumed that Grayson didn’t know about this facility, but it was possible he could have learned of it during the two years he was on the run. Still, even if Grayson was the source of the intel, how did it end up in the hands of the turians?

His musings were cut short as they rounded the next corner and came face-to-face with a six-member turian patrol standing less than five meters away. Both sides opened fire immediately, the turians dropping into crouches to present smaller targets while the Illusive Man and his guards retreated back around the corner for cover.

The brief initial exchange hadn’t lasted long enough for the weapons to penetrate the kinetic barriers of either side. But the turians were better equipped and trained, and had them outnumbered two to one; further engagement was almost suicidal.

“Fall back,” the Illusive Man shouted.

Keeping their weapons pointed at the corner should the turians emerge, the guards crab-walked backward in a shuffling retreat.

They’d gone roughly ten meters when two turians poked their heads around the corner and let loose a quick burst of gunfire. The Illusive Man pressed himself close against the wall, taking shelter behind one of the exposed steel ribs that ran vertically along the wall’s surface every five meters to reinforce the station’s hull. On the other side of the hall the guards did the same, the two of them cramming themselves tightly behind a single protruding girder.

The first two turians continued to lay down a wave of suppressing fire to keep their opponents pinned against the wall so they couldn’t shoot back. At the same time the other four rounded the corner and took cover behind the beams in the same manner as their opponents.

The Illusive Man peeked out and squeezed off a few token shots with his pistol, but a barrage of return fire forced him to duck back into cover. The guards huddled together on the opposite side of the corridor had a similar idea, and they were better armed. Working in concert, they leaned out — one high, one low — and unleashed a storm of bullets.

One of the turians wasn’t pressed tightly enough against the wall; his left side was partially exposed.

By design, both guards aimed at this single target, their concentrated fire ripping through his kinetic barriers and shredding his combat suit in less than a second.