Drew Karpyshyn - Ascension

"I need to be part of this," Grayson insisted. "I need to get my daughter back."

"I give you my word no harm will come to her," the Illusive Man assured him, his voice slipping into a low, soothing register. "We'll do everything to keep her safe. You know how important she is to us."

That's what Fm counting on.

Gillian represented over a decade of intense Cerberus research. Tens of thousands of hours and billions of credits had been invested in his little girl in the hope she would one day become the key to unlocking new frontiers in the field of human biotics. The Illusive Man wanted Gillian back just as much as Grayson, though for different reasons. And that gave the father something few people ever had when dealing with the Illusive Man: leverage.

"You don't have any other choice," Grayson warned him, delivering his ultimatum in a sure, steady tone. "I won't give up the pass code. Not until I'm on a ship heading right into the heart of the Migrant Fleet. If you want to get Gillian back, then I'm your only shot."

It was a dangerous gamble. They could always torture him for the information, and their techniques would make the methods Pel had used on his quarian prisoner seem merciful by comparison. But Grayson could still be useful, especially when it came to Gillian. Cerberus knew of his daughter's condition; they knew she could be unresponsive to strangers. Her father was worth keeping around… or so he hoped.

"You are very dedicated to her," the Illusive Man said with a smile that didn't quite hide the rage beneath it. "I hope that does not become a problem later on."

"So I can go?"

The Illusive Man nodded. "I will set up a meeting with Golo, our quarian contact on Omega."

He motioned with one handand Grayson stood up, fighting to keep his elation well hidden. It was quite likely there would be repercussions for his defiance somewhere down the road — the Illusive Man had a long, long memory. But he didn't care about that now. He was willing to pay any price if it meant he could get his daughter back.

"Remember what I told you, Gillian," Hendel said. "Get the image in your mind, then clench your fist and concentrate."

Gillian followed HendePs instruction, scrunching up her face as she focused all her attention on the pillow at the foot of the bed they were sitting cross-legged on. Kahlee watched them with interest from the other side of the bedroom, leaning against the frame of the open door.

Though Kahlee wasn't biotic, she was familiar with the techniques Hendel was teaching. The Ascension Project used simple biomechanical feedback, such as clenching a fist or thrusting a hand high into the air, as a tool for unleashing biotic power. Associating basic muscle movements with the necessary complex thought patterns created a triggering mechanism for specific biotic feats. Through practice and training, the corresponding physical action became a catalyst for the required mental processes, increasing both the speed and strength of the desired biotic effect.

"You can do it, Gillian," Hendel urged. "Just like we practiced."

The girl began to grind her teeth, her fist clenched so tight it began to tremble.

"Good girl," Hendel encouraged. "Now throw your arm forward and imagine the pillow flying across the room."

Kahlee thought she saw a faint shimmering in the air, like the rippling heat rising off a sun-scorched blacktop. Then the pillow launched itself from the bed, hurtling toward Kahlee and smacking her square in the face. It didn't hurt, but it did catch her off-guard.

Gillian laughed — a nervous bark of excitement and surprise. Even Hendel cracked a small smile. Kahlee scowled at them both in mock exasperation.

"Your reaction time's a little slower than it used to be," Hendel commented.

"I think I better leave you two alone before I catch a lamp in the teeth," she replied before exiting the room and making her way aft toward the seats in the passenger cabin.

Three days had passed since their shuttle had docked with the Idenna, and they were still waiting for the captain to give them clearance to come aboard his ship. During that time they had been well looked after, but Kahlee was starting to develop a serious case of cabin fever.

Gillian and Hendel had fought against the boredom by focusing on developing her biotic talents. She had made astounding progress in an incredibly short time. Whether that was from all the one-on-one training Hendel was giving her, or if it was because her outburst in the cafeteria back at the Academy had broken through some kind of internal mental barrier, Kahlee couldn't say. And though she was glad to see Gillian making progress, there was little she could do to help.

It was clear, however, that Gillian was coping surprisingly well with their situation. She had always had good and bad days; the severity of her condition had an irregular ebb and flow. Over the past several days there were still times when Gillian seemed to simply zone out or disconnect from what was happening around her, but overall she seemed more consistently aware and engaged. Again, Kahlee wasn't sure of the exact reason. It could be the fact that she was receiving far more personal attention than she ever had at the Academy. It might have had something to do with their inability to leave the tight confines of the shuttle; Gillian was intimately familiar with every square inch of the ship. She likely felt safe and protected while on board, as opposed to being exposed and vulnerable while wandering the classrooms and halls of the Grissom Academy. Or it simply could have been the fact that she had to interact with fewer people — apart from Hendel and Kahlee, the only visitor to the shuttle had been Lemm.

He stopped by once or twice a day to give them updates on what was happening aboard the Idenna, and share any important news coming in from the rest of the vessels in the Fleet. With almost fifty thousand ships — many of them frigates, shuttles, and small personal craft — there was a constant stream of information and traffic within the flotilla.

Fortunately, in the quarians' endless efforts to seek out resources for their society, there were also dozens of vessels arriving and departing from nearby worlds on a daily basis. As promised, the Idenna had requested from the other vessels food stores that were suitable for humans, as well as human enviro-suits. One day after their arrival supplies began to come in, and the shuttle's hold was now stocked to overflowing.

Not surprisingly, the request had set off suspicions and rumors among the rest of the Fleet. As Lemm explained it, that was one of the reasons the decision was taking so long. The captain of each ship was given absolute authority over his or her vessel, provided that authority wasn't abused and didn't endanger the rest of the flotilla. Apparently the harboring of nonquarians definitely fell beyond the scope of what was permitted.

In the wake of the Idenna's strange request for human-centric supplies, the Conclave and the Admiralty — the respective civilian and military leaders of the quarian government — had become involved in the discussions of what was to be done. Ultimately, Lemm had explained to Kahlee, the final decision would be given to the Idenna's captain, but not before everyone else had weighed in with their opinions and recommendations.

To pass the time between Lemm's visits, Kahlee had begun speaking with the quarians posted at the airlock as their guards. Ugho, the older of the two, was polite, but somewhat cold. He responded to her questions with short, almost clipped, answers, and she soon gave up bothering to speak with him while he was on duty.

Seeto, however, was the exact opposite. Kahlee guessed he was about Lemm's age, though hidden behind his mask and enviro-suit her only clue was the "nar" identifier in his name. But for some reason Seeto seemed more naive and youthful than their rescuer. Lemm spending several months away from the flotilla on his Pilgrimage no doubt had something to do with that, but Seeto also struck her as having a childlike exuberance about him that she simply chalked up to an excitable, outgoing personality.