Drew Karpyshyn - Ascension

"Good idea," he admitted.

He still didn't like the other quarian; Golo would always be a despicable traitor in his eyes. But he had to admit that he had been extremely helpful in planning Lemm's assault on the warehouse. It was almost enough to make him start trusting him; almost, but not quite.

Golo seemed determined to prove himself, however. He'd even managed to acquire architectural plans for the warehouse's interior: a mind-boggling mess of twisting halls and stairwells that doubled back and forth, seemingly in an effort to confuse and disorient anyone inside. Despite the convoluted layout, Lemm had already memorized the blueprints. In simple terms, the front half of the building was divided into two floors. Offices had been converted into barracks on the ground level; the second story consisted primarily of small storage rooms. The rear of the building was an open, high-ceilinged garage large enough to hold scores of shipping crates and several vehicles.

As he watched, the garage door rolled up and a pair of rovers sped out, heading toward the nearby spaceport. He didn't bother moving; there was virtually no chance they would spot him lying flat on a rooftop hundreds of yards away.

"What are they doing?"

"Picking up a shipment, maybe?" Golo suggested.

Lemm briefly considered his chances of trying to sneak in to have a quick look around before they got back. Golo had told him there were five men and three women working for Pel — nine humans in total. He had no idea how many had gone off in the vehicles, but it was likely only a few had been left behind to guard the building. If the crew from the Cyniad were being held as prisoners inside, as he suspected, this might be his best opportunity to rescue them.

"I'm going in."

"Don't be stupid!" Golo hissed, grabbing him by the shoulder as he tried to stand up. "It's broad daylight! They'll see you coming!"

"There's probably only two or three people in there now. I like those odds better than nine against one."

"Those vehicles could come back at any time," Golo reminded him. "Then you'd still be outnumbered, and they'd be the ones catching you by surprise."

Lemm hesitated. His gut was telling him to make his move, even though everything the older quarian was saying made logical sense.

"Stick with the original plan. Go in tomorrow night. You'll have more time to prepare. Plus, it'll be dark and most of them will be asleep."

With a sigh, Lemm settled back down and resumed his vigil. He didn't like sitting around doing nothing, but Golo was right yet again. He had to be patient.

The vehicles returned less than thirty minutes later. They disappeared into the garage, the heavy steel door slamming shut behind them.

"We've seen all we're going to see," Golo told him. "Let's go. You need to get some rest so you're ready for tomorrow night. You can sleep at my apartment."

Clearly sensing Lemm's hesitation, Golo added, "I know. You still don't trust me. Just keep your shotgun under your pillow if it makes you feel safer."

Grayson brought the shuttle in to land with a long, slow approach. The sensors picked up two vehicles parked just beyond the wall separating the docks from the interior of the station; he assumed they belonged to Pel and his team.

They landed with the softest of bumps. He shut down the controls, killed the engines, then made his way from the cockpit back to where the others were waiting.

Hendel and Kahlee were standing on either side of

Gillian, the three of them waiting for him in the ship's airlock. Gillian had changed out of the hospital robe into one of her old sweaters and an old pair of her pants they'd found in the back of the ship. She'd obviously grown since she last wore the clothes — the sleeves stopped halfway down her forearm, and the pant cuffs stopped several inches above her ankles. She was still wearing the sandals from the hospital.

She smiled as Grayson approached, and he stepped in beside her, intentionally placing himself between his daughter and the security chief, who scowled.

"Let me do the talking," Grayson warned him as he activated the airlock.

The door behind them snapped shut, sealing them in. There was a rush of air as the ship's systems equalized the interior and exterior pressure before opening the outer door and extending the covered landing platform that would take them safely through the vacuum of the docks and into the breathable air of the station.

With Grayson and Gillian in the lead and Kahlee and Hendel following, they walked slowly down the ramp until they were standing on the level ground of

Omega's surface, where Pel and five people Grayson didn't recognize were waiting for them: three men and two women, all wearing armor and carrying guns. Despite the military gear, they seemed relaxed and at ease. A few of them were even smiling.

"How's it going, Killer?" the big man said, coming over to greet them.

"Killer?" Grayson heard Hendel mutter, but he ignored the comment as he stepped forward to shake Pel's offered hand.

"This is it?" Pel asked with a toothy grin, his hearty grip nearly crushing Grayson's fingers. "Everyone's off the ship and ready to go?"

"Just the four of us," Grayson confirmed, wincing slightly as he pulled his hand free and took a step backward. "Let me introduce…"

The words died in his mouth as Pel and the others all brought their weapons up simultaneously, pointing them at the new arrivals in an unmistakable gesture of hostility. Their casual attitude had vanished, replaced by one that was hard and dangerous.

Grayson swore silently to himself; he'd told Pel to act with discretion so he didn't upset Gillian. He was about to say something to this effect when he suddenly realized one of the women was pointing a weapon at him, as well.

"What's going on, Pel?"

"Everybody stay calm and nobody gets hurt," Pel warned. To one of the men on his team he said, "The big man and the girl. They're biotics. Put them out first."

The man holstered his weapon and pulled out what looked like an automated, multicartridge hypodermic. He stepped up to Hendel, moving with well-trained precision.

"Hold out your wrist," Pel ordered.

Hendel simply glared at him.

"Hold out your wrist or I shoot the woman," Pel clarified, aiming his pistol at Kahlee's face. The security chief reluctantly complied, extending his arm with his palm up.

The man grabbed the tips of his fingers and bent them down slightly, then reached out with the hypodermic and pressed it against the exposed underside of his wrist. There was the sharp sound of a high-tension spring releasing, and Hendel grunted softly as the tip of an unseen needle penetrated his skin, injecting him with some unknown drug. A second later he swooned and collapsed, unconscious.

"Hendel!" Kahlee shouted, leaping to catch him before his head smacked the ground. She staggered under his weight and fell at the feet of the man with the hypodermic, HendePs body sprawled on top of her.

The man reached down and pressed the hypodermic against her neck. There was another sharp recoil from the spring, and a second later Kahlee slumped over unconscious.

"Daddy?" Gillian called out, her voice trembling. Her eyes were wide with fear and incomprehension.

"The girl!" Pel snapped. "Quickly!"

"Please, don't," Grayson pleaded, but his former partner wouldn't even turn to look at him. The woman holding the gun on him gave a slight shake of her head, warning him not to move.

The man grabbed Gillian's wrist and roughly extended her arm. Her face twisted in agony at his touch and she let out a long, wailing scream. Oblivious, the man jammed the device against her skin and released another dose of the fast-acting narcotic. Gillian's scream was cut off and her features went slack as she passed out in the man's arms.