Drew Karpyshyn - Retribution

“Roger that.”

He picked up the shotgun, the weight of the Sokolov noticeably heavier than the old Hahne-Kedar model he’d used during his tours in the First Contact war. Then he made his way over to the shuttle’s airlock and stepped inside, closing the interior door behind him. There was a loud rush as the atmosphere whooshed out. Even through the insulation of his suit he felt the temperature drop, though it wasn’t enough to make him uncomfortable.

He opened the airlock’s exterior hatch and stepped down carefully onto the floor of the docking bay.

The enviro-suit had magnetized boots for space walks, but they weren’t necessary here — the artificial gravity generated by the station’s mass effect fields was still active.

Scanning the dock for targets, he made his way over to the nearest airlock leading into the station.

Fortunately it wasn’t locked, and within a minute he was inside a small hall filled with heated, breathable air.

“I’m inside,” he said to Kahlee, lifting the visor of his helmet.

He proceeded up the gently sloping passage, emerging in what served as the Academy’s security clearance area for all passenger arrivals. The two bodies lying on the floor only confirmed what they had all suspected.

“We’ve got casualties,” Anderson said softly, knowing the transmitter would amplify his voice enough for Kahlee to hear every word clearly. “Two. Look like security guards.”

Keeping his shotgun at the ready, he crept toward the security booth, crouching low to the ground. He pressed up close to the wall beside the open door, then poked his head around the corner for a quick peek.

“Area is clear,” he reported, some of the adrenaline-fueled tension fading from his muscles.

Making his way over to the control panel, he found the manual overrides and activated one of the docking ramps. Through the glass wall he watched as it slid into position, clicking tight on the shuttle’s airlock.

“Docking ramp is in place,” he told Kahlee. “Might as well come aboard.”

“What about Kai Leng?” Kahlee asked. “You think it’s safe to just leave him?”

“Don’t see any other choice,” Anderson replied. “Just in case, bring that knife from the first-aid kit with you.”

“Copy that. I’m on my way.”

Anderson debated stripping off the enviro-suit, then decided not to bother. He was already sweating under the airtight fabric, but the suit was equipped with standard kinetic barrier technology. If he ended up getting into a firefight, he’d need the protection.

He hustled down the steps from the guard station back to where Kahlee would emerge in the security clearance room. She probably knew the murdered guards; he wanted to be there for support when she came across the bodies.

He arrived just a few seconds before Kahlee. He didn’t say anything as her eyes came to rest on the fallen guards, letting her mourn their deaths in silence.

She walked slowly over to the first body — a young man stabbed through the chest — and got down on one knee. Despite his glassy, unblinking eyes she pressed her fingers against his throat to check for a pulse. Finding nothing, she reached up and gently closed his eyes, then let her head drop.

Getting to her feet, she made a similar examination of the second body before coming over to stand by Anderson.

“Erin and Jorgen,” she told him. “Good kids.”

“Grayson did this to them,” Anderson said, knowing it was something she didn’t want to hear. “If we don’t stop him, others will die.”

Kahlee nodded her head in agreement.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she assured him. “If we have to take him out, I won’t hesitate.”

Anderson didn’t like the sound of that “if,” but he knew it was the best he’d get from her. She still couldn’t bring herself to admit Grayson was beyond salvation.

“The bodies are still warm,” she noted. “And the blood is just starting to congeal. My guess is that Grayson came through here less than ten minutes ago.”

“Do we set off the alarms?” Anderson asked.

Kahlee shook her head. “It’s night — most of the students and staff will be in their rooms. That’s probably the safest place for them. We set off the alarm and they’ll all come pouring out into the hall to see what’s going on.”

“What about security personnel?”

“We should be able to alert them from the guard station,” Kahlee said.

They quickly made their way into the small control room overlooking the dock. Kahlee flipped a few switches, then slammed her hand down on the console in frustration.

“The whole system’s fried.”

“Any other security stations close by?”

She shook her head. “They’re spread out everywhere. It’d take forever to gather them all.”

“Do you have any idea where Grayson is going?” Anderson asked.

Kahlee thought about it for a moment before answering.

“If the Reapers are just looking for information, he’ll head to the data archives. If they’re after more victims, he’ll head for the dorms. Either way he’s heading for the Ascension wing.

“Come on,” she added, turning to rush off.

Anderson grabbed her forearm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Grayson took the guards’ pistols. We know he’s armed. You can’t go after him without a weapon.”

“I have a knife,” she reminded him, showing him where she’d slid it into her boot.

“You need a gun.”

“This is a school, not a military base,” she explained. “The only guns on-site are carried by the guards.

“Besides,” she added, holding up her splinted fingers, “I couldn’t fire one anyway.”

“Where’s the nearest guard station?” Anderson asked.

“Down the hall and to the right,” she replied. “But the Ascension wing is in the opposite direction.”

“Then we split up,” Anderson declared, falling into the familiar role of an officer barking out orders.

“You go alert the guards. Get them to help you search the dorms. If you don’t run into Grayson, round up all the kids and take them somewhere safe,” he added, knowing Kahlee’s primary concern would be for the safety of the children.

To his relief, she nodded in agreement.

“Take a left when you go out into the main hall,” she told him. “If you just keep following it you’ll end up at the main entrance to the Ascension wing.

“When you get there, look for the map painted on the wall. The data archive is off the main research lab. Look for the large room near the center of the map marked Restricted Area.”

There was an awkward moment of silence. Anderson didn’t know whether he should kiss her, hug her, or simply say “Good luck.” Kahlee resolved the issue by leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on the lips, then turning and dashing out the door and down the hall.

Grasping the shotgun firmly in his hands, Anderson lowered the visor of his helmet and set off at a run in the other direction.

Back on the ship, Kai Leng was working to free himself from his bonds. His wrists and forearms were tied to the arms of the copilot seat; his ankles and calves were lashed firmly to the supports underneath.

He wasn’t completely immobilized, however.

By straining against his bonds he was able to gain just enough play in the rope to allow him to wiggle from side to side in the seat. Each time he did so the rope pulled taut, digging painfully into his flesh … but it also rubbed against the rough metal on the underside of the padded armrests of the chair.

He started slowly, rocking himself and twisting his torso, applying as much tension to the rope as possible, testing the limits of his movement. Then he began to pick up speed, side to side and back and forth, increasing the friction. In less than a minute the ropes had scraped his skin raw. After another they began to draw blood.