Drew Karpyshyn: Retribution

Grayson noted and dismissed these people with a single glance. He was on the lookout for Talon patrols. Any response to the attack on the warehouse would be random and disorganized; the Talons couldn’t have expected Aria to strike at them here, in the heart of their own turf. But the turian gang was one of the few that regularly sent armed cadres out to walk the streets of their territory, as a way to remind people who was in charge. Armed and outfitted as his people were, Grayson knew that if they came across one of these patrols, the turians would immediately open fire on principle alone.

In the end, they were lucky. They crossed over from Talon territory into one of the central districts of Omega without incident. Just to be safe, Grayson kept them in formation for several more blocks, wary of signs of pursuit.

It was only when Liselle put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I think we’re clear,” that he let his guard down.

“Aria’s waiting for us at Afterlife,” Sanak pointedly reminded him.

Grayson knew full well where their boss was. And that was the problem — everyone knew.

Afterlife was the social epicenter of Omega, a club where the wealthy and powerful mingled with the station’s common folk, all in the pursuit of pure hedonistic satisfaction. Patrons came in search of music, sex, drugs, and even violence, and few left without finding at least some of what they sought.

Aria T’Loak was a fixture at the club, presiding over the pulsating chaos of the crowd from her private booth nearly every night. Her presence was part of what made the club what it was: Afterlife epitomized Omega, as did Aria herself.

“We’re not strolling into the club loaded down with twenty pounds of red sand,” Grayson replied.

“We need to stash it someplace safe.”

It wasn’t likely the Talons would be able to mount a retaliatory strike so quickly; even if they did, he doubted they’d have the balls to take a run at Aria in her own club. But the Talons weren’t the only ones he was worried about.

Security kept a tight rein inside the club, but shootings, stabbings, and random acts of violence were common in the streets and alleys surrounding it. Junkies desperate to score or street thugs too stupid to consider the long-term consequences wouldn’t hesitate to go after Grayson’s crew if they thought the payoff was big enough. It was a small risk, to be sure, but Grayson was all about minimizing risk at every opportunity.

“We hide the sand at my place,” he declared. “Then we report to Aria and arrange a pickup for tomorrow.”

Sanak’s lip curled in disapproval, but he didn’t say anything. Liselle, on the other hand, nodded her agreement.

“Lead the way, Paul,” she cooed. “The sooner we drop this off, the sooner we can hit the dance floor.”

It took them about fifteen minutes to reach Grayson’s apartment. Several times he checked to make sure they weren’t being followed; each time he did so, he couldn’t help but notice Sanak rolling all four of his eyes.

That’s why Aria put me in charge , he thought. I worry about the details .

It was just one of the many valuable lessons he had picked up from the Illusive Man.

His apartment was located in one of Omega’s safest, and most expensive, districts. The guards at the district gate — a pair of heavily armed turians — recognized him and stepped aside so he and his squad could enter.

Reaching his building, he punched in the access code at the main door, instinctively shielding the keypad from Sanak and the other batarians as he did so. The position of his body gave Liselle a clear view, but he’d already given the asari his building code several months ago.

The door slid open, revealing a small hallway leading to a set of stairs and a single elevator.

“Third floor,” Grayson said. “Take the stairs. The elevator’s a little slow.”

He led the way, with Liselle, Sanak, and the others following behind single file. At the top of the steps was another hall, with a single door on either side. There were only two apartments on each of the building’s five floors; that was one of the things Grayson liked best about this building — only a handful of neighbors, and they all respected one another’s privacy.

He went up to the door and placed his hand on the pad in the center. He felt a faint warmth as the biometric scan read his palm; then there was a soft click and the door slid open.

The well-furnished apartment beyond wasn’t large, but Grayson didn’t need a lot of room. A small entry-way where visitors could take off their boots and coats led into a sitting room with a single couch and a vid screen. A small window looked out over the street below. Beyond the sitting room was a half-wall separating it from the functionally simple kitchen. Through the kitchen was another small hallway leading to the bathroom and then to the bedroom in the rear. The bathroom was small, but the bedroom was large enough not only for Grayson’s bed, but also for the chair, desk, and terminal he used whenever he wanted to patch into the extranet.

“Just put the bags inside the front door,” Grayson instructed, eager to keep the batarians from traipsing through his home. “I’ll figure out someplace to hide them.”

“What’s the matter, human?” Sanak growled. “Don’t you trust us?”

Grayson didn’t bother to answer.

“Aria’s waiting for our report,” he said. “Why don’t you and your friends go fill her in.”

Liselle waited until the batarians were gone, then came over and draped her arms around his neck, pressing herself close against him. He could feel the heat emanating off her, and the faint perfume wafting up from her neck made his head spin.

“You’re not coming to the club?” she whispered in his ear, disappointed.

Grayson could imagine the sultry pout playing across her lips, and he felt a flush rising up his neck and into his cheeks. Liselle always made him feel like a cradle robber, despite the fact she was at least a full century older than him.

It’s different with asari , the churlish part of his mind admonished. They mature slowly. She’s still a babe in the woods, and you’re a weathered geezer pushing middle age. She’s probably got more in common with your daughter than with you.

“I’ll be there,” Grayson promised, giving her a quick kiss even as he unraveled her arms from his neck and gently pushed her away. “I just have to take care of a few things first.”

She turned away from him, letting her fingers trail along the length of his arm as she did so.

“Don’t take too long,” she called out over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “You might find me dancing with a krogan if I get bored.”

When the door closed, he took a long, slow breath to clear his head. The lingering scent of perfume filled his nostrils, but without Liselle pressed up against him it didn’t have the same overpowering effect.

Back to business, lover-boy .

He had to find somewhere to hide the red sand. It wasn’t likely anyone would break into his apartment, but there was no sense leaving it out in plain sight.

First, however, he had to make a call.

Kahlee Sanders knocked lightly at the door of Nick’s room.

“Come in,” he called from the other side, his adolescent voice cracking on the second word.

She passed her hand over the access panel and the door whooshed open to reveal Nick and Yando, one of the newest students at the Grissom Academy, sitting side by side at the desk in the corner of the room.

“It’s past curfew,” Kahlee said. “Yando should have been in his own room thirty minutes ago.”

“We’re studying,” Nick said, pointing at the haptic interface screens projecting up from the terminal on his desk.