Drew Karpyshyn - Retribution

“Put all weapons on the counter,” he insisted.

“I thought patrons were allowed to be armed inside the club,” Kai Leng protested.

“Not if you want a personal meeting with Aria,” the batarian replied.

Kai Leng hesitated, reluctant to leave himself vulnerable while walking into a veritable lion’s den.

“You could always put your name on the list and come back after we run some background checks on you,” the batarian mocked. “Should only take a week or two.”

Kai Leng placed his pistol and knife on the counter. One of the asari took his weapons away and disappeared into the back. The other handed him a claim ticket and flashed him a lurid wink. Kai Leng ignored her.

“Stand still for the body scan,” one of the krogan grumbled.

Once he was cleared, the batarian led him into the club. He pushed his way through the crowd, parting the way before them. Kai Leng was glad he didn’t have to squeeze through the stinking, sweating bodies of the alien patrons himself.

The club was much as Kai Leng remembered: a den of disgusting filth, with drunk and stoned individuals from every species gyrating against each other on overcrowded dance floors to the relentless beat of uninspired techno music.

They climbed the staircase to the upper level, where the music’s volume was at least bearable and the crowds were somewhat tolerable. The batarian led him across the club to where Aria T’Loak was sitting at a table in an elevated booth.

An asari handmaiden was seated on either side of her. Standing close by was the largest krogan Kai

Leng had ever seen. Well over eight feet tall, he had to weigh at least five hundred pounds.

In addition to the weapons Aria’s menagerie carried, Kai Leng knew the three asari were all powerful biotics. It was possible the krogan was, as well; biotics were rare among the reptilian species, but not unheard of. Even if he wasn’t, however, he was clearly capable of physically overpowering anyone else in the club.

The batarian led him up the small staircase into the private booth, then stepped off to the side. Aria didn’t ask him to sit; even if she had, Kai Leng would have declined. Perhaps she knew that, which was why she hadn’t made the offer.

Kai Leng suddenly understood why the Illusive Man had insisted on planning out everything he was going to do and say in such detail. They hadn’t even made their introductions, and the negotiations had already begun.

“You have information on Grayson?” Aria said, breaking the silence.

“You want to find him,” Kai Leng replied, following the script he’d memorized. “So do we. I think we can help each other.”

Kai Leng noticed that the batarian and the krogan had subtly shifted their positions to stand behind him. Aria’s people now had him surrounded.

“I don’t get involved with people I don’t know,” the Pirate Queen informed him. “So let’s start with you telling me your name.”

“You know I wouldn’t give you my real name,” Kai Leng replied. “I can make something up if you want, but it seems like a waste of time.”

“Are you willing to tell me who you’re working for, at least?”

As instructed, he answered truthfully. “I work for Cerberus. Grayson used to be one of our people.”

Every alien in the booth tensed, except for Aria herself.

“Why is Cerberus in my club?” she demanded coolly.

“My boss wants to make you an offer,” Kai Leng replied.

“Why would I help an organization sworn to eliminate me and my kind?” Aria asked. “Maybe I should just kill you right here instead.”

“I’d take at least three of your people with me,” Kai Leng warned, forgetting his promise to stay on script. “Maybe even you, if I get lucky.”

Behind him the batarian laughed. “You’re not even armed. What are you going to do?”

Aria tilted her head to the side, a contemplative smile crossing her lips.

“Don’t be a fool, Sanak,” she said. “It’s obvious our friend doesn’t need a weapon to kill.”

“This can end in violence,” Kai Leng noted, his voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather. “Or it can end with you making a very tidy profit.”

“You have my attention,” Aria admitted.

Aria had studied the human as he’d crossed the floor of the club and approached her booth. The lean, tattooed man was obviously a highly skilled assassin. He showed neither fear nor bravado, moving through the crowd with the easy grace of a predator on the prowl.

Yet she was still able to pick up the revulsion in his body language. He was disgusted by the other patrons; they were lesser life-forms in his eyes. If pressed, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill any one of them, and she was certain he would feel no remorse over his actions.

“The Illusive Man wants to speak to you himself,” the assassin told her. “Somewhere more private.”

“I prefer to do my business in the club,” she informed him. “He can come meet me here if he wants to negotiate.”

“He’s not foolish enough to set foot on Omega. You can contact him through a secure comm channel.

He’s waiting for your call, if you’re interested.”

Aria had to admit she was intrigued. She was eager to find out more about the man she’d known as

Paul Johnson and his possible role in Liselle’s death. Plus, Cerberus’s anti-alien bias was well known; she was curious to know why they had come to her so openly. And the chance to speak to the Illusive Man was an opportunity she wasn’t about to pass up; it was amazing how much one could learn about an adversary through a single conversation.

“Come with me,” she said by way of agreement.

Her handmaidens slid out from behind the table, allowing Aria to do the same. She led the human through the club to the private rooms in the back. Most of these could be rented out on an hourly, daily, or even weekly basis by patrons of the club. But there was one chamber Aria always kept reserved for herself and those rare occasions when she wanted to conduct business away from the eyes of Omega’s curious public.

They entered the room and Aria took a seat at the comm terminal. The human stood off to one side while her own people took up positions scattered about the room.

“Do you have holographic relay technology?” the human asked.

Aria didn’t rise to the obvious bait, but from off in the corner Sanak snorted, “We’re not savages.”

“Give me the comm channel,” Aria said, ignoring the batarian as she activated the holo projector.

The human complied, and a few seconds later the image of a well-dressed older human with silver hair and bright blue eyes materialized in the center of the room. He was seated in a chair on what was obviously a space station. A swirling but unidentifiable nebula could be seen through an observation window behind him. In his right hand he held a lit cigarette.

“Aria T’Loak,” he said with a slight nod. “I’m the Illusive Man.”

“I’m disappointed you lacked the courage to meet me in person,” she said, gently needling him in the hopes of goading some type of reaction.

“Are we here to play games, or talk business?” he asked, his demeanor unchanged.

Aria didn’t reply right away. She wanted to make him sweat.

The three-dimensional holographic image was lifelike enough for her to easily make out the subtle clues and body language projected by the man on the other end of the call. She studied him during the long silence as he took a slow drag on his cigarette, analyzing the unconscious mannerisms and expressions of his every movement.

To her disappointment, she quickly realized she wasn’t picking up anything useful. His actions were a confusing mйlange of false signals and intentional misinformation carefully orchestrated to hide his true feelings.