Drew Karpyshyn - Retribution

A bizarre mix of emotions flooded through him. He’d expected to feel fear, and there was plenty of that. But he also felt an odd sense of hope and elation. He felt inexplicably energized. Defiant.

Triumphant!

He tossed the blade back into the kit and opened his eyes. He refused to end it like this. Suicide was the coward’s way out. He was better than that.

Marching back up to the pilot’s chair, he sat down in the seat and took a look at the nav systems to get a sense of where he was. If he could figure out where the Reapers were heading, maybe he could figure out what they were up to.

To his surprise, he was deep inside Council space, orbiting a mass relay only one jump away from the Citadel … and from Kahlee.

He knew she was on the great station that served as the heart of the civilized galaxy. It was the only way to explain how the turians had found him. She must have passed the Cerberus files he’d sent her on to someone she trusted; that person had recruited the turians to help them.

He quickly plotted a new course for the shuttle — one that would take it in the opposite direction.

Away from the Citadel. Away from Kahlee. He didn’t have a destination in mind. Instead, he planned to send the shuttle out into the most remote, sparsely populated region of the galaxy. With any luck it would be a one-way journey; he would run out of fuel and be trapped floating on the edges of space, never to return.

It was another form of suicide, but now he was driven by the urgent need to put as much distance between himself and Kahlee as he could. He had to protect her.

As a further precaution, he decided to send her a message. He didn’t activate the shuttle’s video feature; he didn’t want her to see what kind of monster he’d become. Instead, he’d send an audio file to her extranet account.

He had to warn her to stay away from him, no matter what. He had to tell her not to look for him; not to try and help him.

He has feelings for her.

The Reapers made another slight alteration to Grayson’s thought pattern. Instead of his rational, conscious mind doing what was morally right, he momentarily succumbed to his primal, subconscious yearnings and desires.

“Kahlee, this is Grayson. Listen closely — I need to see you. Right away. Send me a reply as soon as you get this.”

Grayson ended the recording and sent the message off, completely unaware of what the Reapers had done.

“Listen up!” Sanak shouted at the crew assembled in the cargo hold of the frigate. “ETA is five minutes. Expect resistance to be armed and organized.”

Cerberus estimated they’d have about twenty soldiers to contend with. Just to be safe, Aria had sent forty of her best people on the mission — a mix of batarian, krogan, and asari mercenaries.

“Turians don’t believe in surrender,” Sanak warned them. “So expect this to get messy.”

There was some knowing laughter from his team; they were eagerly looking forward to the carnage.

Between the element of surprise and their superior numbers, they wouldn’t have any trouble winning the battle. That wasn’t what Sanak was worried about.

“Remember the primary goal — capture the human alive! Is that clear? Capture the human alive!”

A chorus of assent rumbled back to him, but he wasn’t satisfied yet. He knew how easily things could get out of hand, particularly when krogan were involved.

“This isn’t a suggestion. It’s not even me giving you an order. This comes down from Aria herself. The human ends up dead, and so do we.”

He could see from the expressions on their faces that the importance of what he was saying was sinking in. Just to be safe, however, he repeated it one last time.

“Capture the human alive!”

The bunk in the room Anderson had chosen for his quarters was comfortable enough, but he wasn’t able to sleep.

It wasn’t just the strangeness of the situation, though being on a Cerberus station manned by turians was more than enough to shake him. And there was something disconcerting about claiming the sleeping cabin of someone whose corpse was likely piled against the wall in the station’s docking bay.

The issue keeping him awake was much more personal, however. He was worried about Kahlee.

She was obsessed with scouring the research files, trying to fully grasp everything that Cerberus had done to Grayson. The turian scientists and techs were doing their best to help her, working in alternating ten-hour shifts. But Kahlee hadn’t taken more than a handful of ten- and twenty-minute breaks since their arrival. She was pushing herself too hard, and if she didn’t take a break soon she was going to collapse from exhaustion.

Anderson had urged her to slow down, arguing that with each passing hour she was becoming less productive and more inclined to make a mistake. He pointed out that the turians could continue to pull files while she rested, giving her a completely fresh batch of data to analyze when she came back. As expected, she listened politely to his concerns, then brushed them aside with the reassurance that she knew her limits and a promise to stop whenever she reached them.

Knowing he had no chance of convincing her to take a break, Anderson had retired to try to get some much-needed shut-eye. Instead, he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light of the cabin.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t feel so useless. His skills weren’t suited to research and analysis; he was a soldier. He didn’t like feeling helpless; he wished there was something he could do.

A second later he regretted that thought as alarms began to ring out through the station.

He sprang from the bunk and ran out into the hall, still in his undershirt and boxers. Several turians were emerging from the surrounding cabins, roused from their slumber by the emergency sirens.

With no clear idea of what was happening, Anderson raced down the halls until he reached the lab.

Kahlee was there along with several armed turian soldiers, though the techs and scientists were gone.

“What happened to Sato and the others?” he asked, yelling to make his voice heard above the alarms.

“They went to grab their gear,” one of the turian soldiers explained. “We’re under attack!”

It wasn’t surprising that the techs and scientists would have brought their combat gear with them: military service was mandatory for every turian. Given the nature of the mission, it was likely everyone on board except for Kahlee and Anderson was still in active service.

“What do we know?” Anderson asked, looking for a situation report.

“Single ship closing in. Medium-sized frigate. Not responding to hailing frequencies. Looks like they’re going to try and board us.”

The irony of the turians being on the other side of the equation this time was not lost on Anderson. He just hoped that this time the station’s defenders would emerge victorious.

“You think it’s Cerberus?” Kahlee asked.

Anderson shook his head. “I don’t see how they could have mounted a counterattack so soon. Not after the kind of damage we dealt them.”

“Whoever it is, they’ll be here any minute,” the turian warned. “The captain wants us to rally here by the lab. Keep our forces together and face the enemy as a single unit.”

“Understood,” Anderson said. “Where do you want us to set up?”

The turian shook his head. “You stay in here with the door locked until the battle’s over.”

“We both have combat training,” Kahlee protested. “We can help!”

“You don’t have body armor or combat suits,” the turian reminded her. “You don’t know our tactics.

You’ll just get in the way.”

“He’s right,” Anderson said, cutting Kahlee off before she could object further.