Mass Effect: The Complete Novels 4-Book Bundle (12 page)

“What else? Why were you hired to attack the base?”

“I don’t know,” Groto whispered fearfully. “We weren’t given any details. The moneyman was afraid someone would talk. He didn’t want … he didn’t want the Spectres to find out.”

Saren broke two more of his fingers just to be sure.

“Please,” the batarian sobbed once he’d stopped screaming. “It’s not me you want. There was a meeting at the warehouse with Skarr and the man who hired us. Talk to someone who was there.”

The turian wasn’t surprised his victim was offering up someone else. It was a common reaction in most subjects. Typically it was a sign the interrogation was nearing an end; once the subject realized they were running out of useful information to surrender, betraying their allies became their only chance of avoiding further torture.

“Where can I find someone from the warehouse?” the Spectre demanded.

“I … I don’t know,” Groto admitted, his voice trembling. “They’re with the moneyman. He hired them on as his personal bodyguards.”

“Guess I’m stuck with you then,” Saren replied.

“That’s all I know,” the batarian protested weakly, his voice completely devoid of guile, subterfuge, or hope. “Even if you break every bone in my body, I can’t tell you anything else.”

“We’ll see,” Saren promised.

It was a long night for Saren. The batarian went into shock and passed out three more times during the interrogation. Each time it happened Saren would have to sit down and wait for him to regain consciousness—there was no point in torturing an unresponsive subject.

In the end, it turned out Groto had been telling the truth. Saren didn’t get anything more out of him. He’d suspected as much, but he had needed to be absolutely sure. There was too much at stake.

Someone had hired the Blue Suns. Someone with enough wealth and power to secure their exclusive loyalty. Someone who had taken extra precautions to make sure the Spectres wouldn’t find out what was going on. Saren needed to know who had ordered the attack on Sidon and why. Billions of lives could be at stake, and he was more than willing to torture a single merc for hours on end if there was even the smallest chance he could learn something that might help him break the case.

Not that there weren’t consequences to his actions. The soundproof room had amplified the piercing shrieks and keening wails of his victim. The screams had physically hurt Saren’s ears, and now he had a pounding headache.

Next time,
he thought as he rubbed his temples,
I’ll bring earplugs.

He had lifted the batarian up onto the bed partway through the interrogation; it was easier to work on him there than to constantly bend down to reach him on the floor. Now Groto was just lying motionless on his back, breathing softly in a deep sleep brought on by utter mental and physical exhaustion.

There wasn’t much to go on, but Saren had a solid lead to follow. He knew Skarr by reputation, and he knew the bounty hunter was headed to Elysium. It shouldn’t be hard to pick up his trail there.

First, though, he had to clean up this mess. Arresting Groto wasn’t an option; it would draw attention and alert whoever had hired the Blue Suns that a Spectre was on the case. It was easier—and safer—to just dispose of the body.

Saren gently placed a hand on either side of the batarian’s head, then gave a savage twist at an awkward angle, breaking his elongated neck. A quick and painless death.

After all, he wasn’t a monster.

ELEVEN

Anderson disembarked on Elysium with the three hundred other passengers who had booked a seat on the public-transport shuttle from the Citadel.

The landing port teemed with people. The densely packed crowd was a mix of every known species in the galaxy; some arriving, some leaving, most waiting in the long, winding lines to clear customs and border stations. Security had always been tight on Elysium, but with the attack on the nearby Sidon base things had been elevated to a level Anderson had never seen before.

Not that he disapproved. Ideally located near the nexus of several primary and secondary relays, Elysium was a major hub for travel and commerce that the Alliance could not afford to expose to possible terrorist attacks. The colony was only five years old, but already it was one of the busiest trade ports in the Verge. The population had exploded; recently passing one million, if you included all the various and varied resident aliens who accounted for nearly half the total inhabitants. Unfortunately, that also meant a disproportionately high number of visitors to Elysium were nonhuman, and subject to heightened screening procedures.

The extra security made arrivals and departures a long and cumbersome experience for most travelers. Even humans were subjected to major delays; the staff taken away to help process the alien visitors meant fewer people left behind to deal with the Alliance citizens.

Fortunately for Anderson, his military ID gave him the luxury of bypassing the long lines. The guard at the Alliance station scanned his thumbprint and studied his identification for a few seconds before saluting and waving him through.

Officially, Anderson wasn’t here in any authorized capacity. He was just an Alliance marine taking shore leave, a believable enough cover story to avoid drawing any unwanted attention and hide the true purpose of his visit.

Jon Grissom was Kahlee Sanders’s father. It was pretty obvious they were estranged, but there was still a good chance Grissom knew something that could help Anderson’s investigation. Sidon was only a few hours away from Elysium. There were records of Sanders booking a passage here when she went UA. And even though it looked like Grissom hadn’t communicated with his daughter in at least ten years, it was public knowledge that the Alliance’s most recognizable soldier had taken early retirement and become a recluse on humanity’s largest colony in the Verge.

Anderson still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that Sanders was a traitor. The pieces just didn’t add up. But he knew she was involved somehow; her sudden disappearance had to be more than coincidence. Maybe she had gotten in over her head and panicked when things got out of control. He could imagine her arriving on Elysium: scared, alone, not knowing who to trust. Estranged or not, her father was the most likely person she’d turn to for help.

After checking his gear at the hotel, Anderson rented a car and drove out to the isolated estates on the outskirts of the city. It took him awhile to find Grissom’s house; the addresses in the area were so inconspicuous as to be almost hidden. It was obvious the people who lived out here valued their privacy.

Exiting the vehicle, he began the long walk across the grounds of the estate toward the surprisingly small domicile located as far back from the road as possible. Anderson didn’t understand Grissom’s desire to withdraw from the public eye. He respected the man and his reputation, but he couldn’t imagine any way to justify simply walking away like he did. A soldier didn’t turn his back on the Alliance like that.

You’re not here to pass judgment,
he reminded himself as he reached the door. He rang the bell and waited, involuntarily standing at attention.
You’re just here to find Kahlee Sanders.

It took several minutes before he heard someone coming on the other side, grumbling as he approached. A moment later the door opened, revealing Rear Admiral Jon Grissom in all his glory.

The salute Anderson had been on the verge of snapping off by way of greeting died at his hip. The man before him wore nothing but a tattered housecoat and dirty boxers. His hair was long and uncombed and his face was partially hidden behind a three-day stubble of gray and black hairs. His eyes were hard and bitter, and his face seemed frozen in a scowl.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“Sir,” Anderson replied, “my name is Lieutenant Commander David And—”

Grissom cut him off. “I know who you are. We met back at Arcturus.”

“That’s right, sir,” Anderson acknowledged, feeling a faint surge of pride at being recognized. “Before the First Contact War. I’m surprised you remember me.”

“I’m retired, not senile.” Despite the joke, there was nothing humorous in Grissom’s tone.

There was an awkward pause as Anderson tried to reconcile his memories of the iconic figure of Grissom’s past with the disheveled grouch now standing in front of him. It was Grissom who filled the silence.

“Look, kid, I’m retired. So go back and tell the brass that I’m not going to do any interviews or speeches or appearances just because one of our military bases got attacked. I’m done with that crap.”

Anderson pounced, convinced the other man had already slipped up. “How do you know Sidon was attacked?”

Grissom glared at him like he was a fool. “It’s all over the damn news vids.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Anderson said, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Can we talk inside?”

“No.”

“Please, sir. It’s a matter I’d rather not discuss out here in public.”

Grissom held his ground, blocking the door so Anderson couldn’t enter.

The lieutenant realized tact and diplomacy weren’t going to be any use here. Time to be blunt. “Tell me about Kahlee Sanders, sir.”

“Who?”

The old man was good. Anderson had been hoping to see some reaction at the name of his long-lost daughter, his only flesh and blood. But Grissom hadn’t even flinched.

“Kahlee Sanders,” Anderson repeated, his voice becoming noticeably louder. It was unlikely anyone would hear him—the neighbors were too far away. But he had to do something to get inside that door. “Your daughter. The soldier who went UA from Sidon mere hours before it was attacked. The woman we’re looking at as a traitor to the Alliance.”

Grissom’s scowl became a grimace of pure hatred. “Shut up and get your ass in here,” he muttered, stepping aside.

Once inside, Anderson followed his reluctant host into the small living room. Grissom settled into one of the three padded chairs, but the lieutenant remained standing, waiting for an invitation to do the same. After several seconds he realized the invitation wasn’t forthcoming, and he took a seat on his own.

“How’d you find out about Kahlee?” Grissom finally asked, speaking as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

“There are no secrets in this day and age,” Anderson replied. “We know she was last seen here on Elysium. I need to know if she came to talk to you.”

“I haven’t spoken to my daughter since before she was a teenager,” Grissom replied. “Her mother didn’t think much of me as a husband or a father, and I couldn’t really argue with her. I figured the best thing was to just get out of their lives.

“Hey,” Grissom suddenly recalled, “last time we met you said you were engaged. A girl waiting for you back on Earth, right? You must be married by now. Congratulations.”

He was trying to throw Anderson off balance. Grissom knew damn well how hard it was for an Alliance soldier to make a marriage work; his innocent question was meant to rattle his guest. He may have looked like a harmless, burned-out old man, but there was still plenty of fight left in him.

Anderson wasn’t about to rise to the bait. “Sir, I need your help. Your daughter is suspected of being a traitor to the Alliance. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Why should it?” he shot back. “I barely know her.”

“I found out you two were related. Eventually somebody else is going to make that connection, too.”

“What? You think I’m worried about my reputation?” he scoffed. “You think I’m going to help you because I don’t want people to know the great Admiral Grissom had an illegitimate daughter who’s accused of treason? Ha! You’re the ones who care about crap like that. I really couldn’t give a damn.”

“That’s not what I meant, sir,” Anderson replied, refusing to be provoked. “I tracked Kahlee here. To you. That means someone else can track her here, too. I came to you because I want to help your daughter. But the next person who comes after her—and we both know there will be others—might be looking to harm her.”

Grissom leaned forward slowly and placed his head in his hands, considering Anderson’s words. Several long moments went by before he sat up straight again. His eyes were moist with tears.

“She’s not a traitor,” he whispered. “She didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“I believe you, sir,” Anderson said, his voice sincere and sympathetic. “But not many others will. That’s why I need to find her. Before something happens to her.”

Grissom didn’t say anything, but simply sat there chewing on his lower lip.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to her,” Anderson reassured him. “I give you my word on it.”

“She came here,” Grissom finally admitted, taking a deep breath. “She said she was in trouble. Something to do with Sidon. I didn’t ask her any of the details. I guess … I guess I was afraid of what she might tell me.”

He leaned forward and clasped his head in his hands again. “I was never there for her when she was growing up,” he mumbled, sounding as if he was on the verge of tears. “I couldn’t turn her away now. I owed her.”

“I understand, Admiral,” Anderson said, reaching forward to place a comforting hand on Grissom’s shoulder. “But you have to tell me where she went.”

Grissom looked up at him, his expression naked and vulnerable. “I gave her the name of a freighter captain down at the ports. Errhing. Captain of the
Gossamer.
He helps people who want to disappear. She left last night.”

“Where was she going?”

“I didn’t ask. Errhing takes care of all the details. You need to talk to him.”

“Where is he?”

“The
Gossamer
left this morning on a trade run out near the Terminus Systems. He won’t be back for weeks.”

“We don’t have weeks, sir.”

Grissom stood up, his posture a little straighter than it had been when Anderson first arrived, as if his muscles were trying to remember what it was like to stand proudly at attention. “Then I guess you’ll just have to get your patrols out there and find him, soldier. He’s the only one who can lead you to my daughter.”

Anderson jumped crisply to his feet. “Don’t worry, Admiral. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

He started to salute, but Grissom turned his head away.

“Don’t,” he muttered, ashamed. “I don’t deserve that. Not anymore.”

Anderson extended his hand instead. The older man hesitated a moment, then reached out and clasped it in a surprisingly firm grip.

“You’re a better man than I ever was, Anderson. The Alliance is lucky to have you.”

The lieutenant didn’t know what to say, so he only nodded. Grissom took him firmly by the elbow and led him out of the living room to the front door.

“Remember your promise,” he said as his parting words. “Don’t let anything happen to my daughter.”

Grissom watched the lieutenant leaving his home on the vid-screen for the security camera over his door, only turning away when the young man got into his vehicle and sped off. Then he made his way slowly to the back of the house and knocked once on the closed door of his bedroom.

A second later Kahlee opened it and asked, “Who was it?”

“Some Alliance snoop who figured out we were related. I sent him on a wild-goose chase. He’ll spend the next two weeks out near the Terminus Systems chasing down an old friend of mine.”

“Are you sure he bought it?” Kahlee asked.

“I gave him exactly what he wanted,” Grissom said with a cynical smile, “the chance to help an old, broken-down hero remember something of who he used to be.

“But he’s not the one we have to worry about,” Grissom continued. “Things won’t get tough until we run into someone involved in the attack on Sidon.”

Kahlee reached out and grabbed his hand, pressing it firmly between her own palms. “Thank you,” she said, staring up into her father’s eyes. “I mean it.”

He nodded, and shifted uncomfortably until she released her grip. “We’ll wait a few more days,” he said, turning away and leaving her to the privacy of her room, “then we’ll figure out some way to get you off this planet.”

A large, dark shadow crept quickly and quietly across the moonlit grounds of Grissom’s estate, making its way toward the home.

Skarr could move silently when he had to, even in full body armor. It slowed him down, but he usually relied on strength rather than speed anyway.

There were no lights on inside the small house of the man Skarr now knew to be the father of his target. He’d been surprised when his batarian information broker had come up with the name of an Alliance hero, but it didn’t really change the job. It just meant there’d be more fallout when he was done.