The mobility preserved the secrecy, as did the harsh personnel screening practices used to recruit the onboard crew. The two dozen Cerberus agents who manned the unnamed space station that served as his inner sanctum were the most loyal and devoted of his followers. These were the fanatics, the zealots.
They were identified through a battery of psychological tests from among the Cerberus rank and file, and part of their training was a subtle yet effective program of propaganda that stoked the fires of their fervent belief in the cause and its leader. The individuals assigned to work here didn’t just respect him; they revered him. Worshipped him. Each would have given his or her life without any question or hesitation if he commanded it.
There had been times when the Illusive Man had wondered if he was crossing a line. Was building himself up as a virtual god a necessary security measure, or merely a way to feed his own ego?
The events of the past twenty-four hours had irrefutably answered that question. The turians had dealt Cerberus a savage blow. Many of his key operatives inside the Alliance were now in turian custody. Some would refuse to talk, even when threatened with a capital sentence for treason against the Council. Others, however, would readily spill their guts to save their hides. A number of the undercover operatives not yet exposed would either turn themselves in to avoid the harshest penalties, or abandon their assumed identities and go on the run as the dominoes began to fall.
The vast financial network of companies and corporations that helped fund Cerberus—some knowingly, others unwittingly—was about to be exposed and dismantled. The Illusive Man would still have more personal wealth than he would ever need, but the cost of running an organization like Cerberus was astronomical, and until he rebuilt his financial support network it would be a considerable drain on his resources.
More troubling than the loss of his fortune and his inside sources in the Alliance, however, was the destruction of so many strategically vital operational facilities. The turians had captured two primary military training bases and four major research labs. From what he had been able to gather, few if any of the personnel had been taken alive, meaning that in addition to trillions of dollars of equipment, weapons, and resources, several of the most brilliant minds recruited to their cause had been lost as well.
However, despite the damage done, Cerberus still survived. The Illusive Man’s network of followers was far larger than the Alliance could even imagine. There were other research bases and other training facilities located in systems both inside and outside of Council space. The network of scattered agent cells operating independently across the galaxy was still intact.
Through this unassailable space station known only to the most trusted few, the Illusive Man could still control and direct his followers while remaining hidden from both his enemies and his own people. Slowly he would regain what had been taken. He would gather resources and rebuild the political and economic shadow empire that had supported him. He would recruit new followers, and construct new facilities to replace those that had been destroyed. He had already put contingency plans in place to get new operatives assigned to key Alliance positions.
It would take time to recover completely, but humanity still needed Cerberus to protect and defend it. Despite what he had suffered, he wasn’t about to turn his back on the people of Earth and its colonies.
But all that was for the future. In the present, he still had to deal with the problem of Grayson being at large. He knew Kai Leng was eager to go after the traitor, but he’d need help and support to hunt down and destroy the monster they had created.
Yet Cerberus couldn’t do it alone. His organization was vulnerable right now. He had to be careful. His enemies wouldn’t be satisfied with simply setting Cerberus back; they wouldn’t rest until the Illusive Man was dead or in prison. They’d anticipate his efforts to rebuild, would be watching and waiting for him to reemerge, keeping a close eye on anyone who could possibly be sympathetic to his cause. Approaching potential allies right now was too dangerous; the solution lay elsewhere.
To bring Grayson down, he would have to look outside the human race, and even outside Council space. For the sake of humanity’s future, he would have to swallow his pride and beg for help from those who represented everything Cerberus despised about alien cultures.
This all began on Omega. And if he wanted to end it, he would have to send Kai Leng back.
Kahlee and Anderson exited from the shuttle via the boarding ramp, falling into step behind the turian soldier who had been sent to greet them and take them to the lab. The half-dozen scientists Orinia had sent with them on the shuttle disembarked and followed close behind.
The docking bay of the Cerberus station was large enough to accommodate not only their own vessel, but also those of the turian assault teams that had originally secured the station. Yet even with all the ships, there was still plenty of room for the bodies.
The turians still hadn’t finished cleaning up from the assault. A handful of their people were laid out respectfully in one corner of the bay, their arms folded across their breasts, their weapons lying beside them.
In stark contrast, the human casualties had been dumped haphazardly in the middle of the docking bay’s cargo floor. They were being systematically stripped of anything of value by a team of turians. As they finished with each body, two of them would pick it up—one at the wrists, the other at the ankles—then carry it over and toss it onto the growing pile against the far wall.
Cerberus was the enemy, but Kahlee still felt a natural revulsion watching the aliens loot the bodies of her own kind. She glanced over at Anderson and noticed he was pointedly looking the other way.
“Thought they’d have more respect for the dead,” she whispered, speaking softly so the turian guide a few steps in front of them wouldn’t overhear.
“The turians show no quarter for an enemy,” Anderson reminded her in a similarly low voice. “Look what they did to the krogan.”
Kahlee nodded, remembering how the turians had released the genophage on the krogan homeworld—a biological weapon that effectively sterilized 99.9 percent of the population. Cerberus had brought this on themselves by openly declaring their intention to see humans eliminate or dominate every other species in the galaxy. As far as the turians were concerned, they were in a war for their very survival.
And it wasn’t like they were going to jettison the bodies into space; all the dead would be sent back to the Alliance for identification. That was what bothered Kahlee the most—she couldn’t help thinking about those who would be tasked with notifying the families of the dead. Breaking the news to a parent or spouse was hard enough; it would be even more difficult having to tell the bereaved that the person they loved had been a traitor to the Alliance.
Fortunately their guide was setting a brisk pace, and they soon left the horrors of the docking bay behind. He wove his way down the corridors and halls of the Cerberus space station. The signs of battle—bloodstains on the walls and floor, scorch marks and scoring from the ammo—were still clearly visible.
Passing by an open door, Kahlee caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye.
“Wait,” she called. “Hold on a second. What’s that room back there?”
Their guide stopped and turned around slowly. It was clear he didn’t like taking orders from a human. But Orinia had promised Anderson the turians on the station would cooperate with them, and he wasn’t about to disobey his superior.
“It’s some kind of operating theater,” he answered.
“I want to see it.”
The guide nodded, and Kahlee and Anderson went into the room. The turian scientists followed them, their own curiosity piqued as well.
The room was stark and utilitarian. A bright lamp hung down from the ceiling in the center. Beneath it was a gurney fitted with leather restraints. The straps and the gurney were stained with dried blood, as was the floor around it.
“They didn’t use an anesthetic,” Kah
lee muttered, feeling sick to her stomach.
Medical equipment on wheels had been pushed up against the far wall. Some of it Kahlee recognized from her work with the Ascension program: an EEG monitor; an endoscope; a cranial drill. Other, more sinister-looking machines she could only guess the purpose of.
She gave each piece a quick examination, trying to get a feel for what it might have been used for. At the same time she struggled not to picture Grayson screaming as he was subjected to the bizarre medical tortures.
Once she was done, she and the rest of the group went back out into the hall, where the guide was waiting.
“I need to see where Grayson was being held,” she said.
“We have to go through the lab,” he told her. “Follow me.”
They continued through the station until they reached what was obviously the station’s primary research lab. There was a large bank of computer terminals in the center of the room. Several of the terminals had turians sitting at them, doing their best to hack through the layers of security on the system.
The process of analyzing what Cerberus had been up to was threefold. First the encrypted data had to be carefully extracted from the databases. Then it had to be decrypted. Finally, it would be analyzed by Kahlee and the other scientists.
One of the techs was walking around the room from terminal to terminal, coordinating the work of the data extraction team.
“You must be Dr. Sanders,” he said, extending his hand. “My name is Sato Davaria.”
Kahlee shook his hand, as did Anderson.
“Admiral David Anderson,” he said by way of introduction.
“An honor to meet you, sir,” the turian replied with genuine sincerity.
The turians were a military society; it wasn’t surprising that someone with as distinguished a service career as Anderson would be known by reputation.
“I need to see where Grayson was held,” Kahlee said.
Sato looked over at their guide, who nodded to indicate he should comply with her request.
“This way,” he said, taking them through a small door at the rear of the lab. The other scientists promptly fell in line behind them; at some point they had obviously decided to defer to Kahlee, at least for now.
The door led into an observation room. There was a large window in the far wall—probably one-way glass—overlooking a sparsely furnished prison cell below. The only other exit from the observation room was a small spiraling staircase leading down.
Sato led them down the stairs and into a small hall that terminated at the door to the cell. Kahlee pushed it open and stepped inside.
An unpleasant smell lingered in the stale air—a mixture of sweat, urine, and excrement. There was a small cot in one corner and a toilet in another. A shelf of bottled water and rations had been built into one of the walls. Several of the ration kits were scattered about the floor.
“No sink. No mirror. No shower,” Kahlee noted. “They were treating him like an animal. Trying to dehumanize him.”
“He was naked when he was discovered,” Sato confirmed.
“Let’s go back upstairs,” Kahlee said. “I want to see what you’ve pulled from the data banks so far.”
“We’re making progress,” Sato explained as they climbed the stairs, “but it’s slow going.
“So far it looks like there was only one test subject in the whole facility. We’ve decrypted what could be preliminary results from the experiment. But our job is just to pull it out. You’re the ones who have to determine what it all means.”
When they reached the lab again, Sato took a seat at one of the open terminals. He started flipping through screens until he found the files he was looking for. Reaching out, he tapped the haptic interface, causing the data to balloon up so that all the hovering screens were suddenly filled with an assortment of charts, graphs, and raw numerical data.
He got up from the chair so Kahlee could sit down, then stood over her shoulder as she began to flip through the data. Anderson came over to stand by her other shoulder, showing his support.
“See this chart here,” she said, touching one of the screens so that it expanded and moved to the forefront of the display. “This is the kind of thing we track on kids recently fitted with biotic amplifiers.”
“What does that mean?” Anderson asked.
“It confirms the theory that Cerberus implanted Grayson with something. Possibly some kind of experimental cybernetics.”
She continued to glance over the data, then stopped when she recognized something else, the cold chill of an old memory creeping down her spine.
“I’ve seen this before, too,” she said softly. “Advanced AI research. The same kind of thing Dr. Qian was working on back at Sidon.”
“Are you sure?” Anderson wanted to know.
“I’m sure.”
“This must have something to do with the Reapers,” Anderson said.
Unfamiliar with the name, Kahlee asked, “Who are the Reapers?”
Anderson hesitated, as if he was gathering his thoughts. Or maybe wondering how much he could say.
“They’re a species of massive, hyperintelligent starships trapped in the void of dark space. They wiped out the Protheans fifty thousand years ago. Now they’re looking for a way to return so they can wipe out all intelligent organic life again.”
Kahlee blinked in surprise. “I’ve never heard anything remotely like that before in my life.”
“I know how crazy it sounds,” Anderson admitted. “But it’s true. When Saren led the geth army against the Citadel, they weren’t following him. They were answering to the Reapers. Saren was just an agent under his control.”
“Saren Arterius was a traitor,” Sato interjected, his voice sharp and bitter. “Don’t try to excuse his actions with some crazy story.”
Kahlee knew Saren was a sore point for the turians. Though he was once revered as a hero of his people, his betrayal had made him a source of shame for the species. But Anderson had no love for him, either. He had no reason to mention this unless he believed it.
“If this is true,” she said, still trying to wrap her head around the idea, “then why haven’t I ever heard of it before? It should have been all over the vids.”
“The Council suppressed the story. They said there was no real evidence, and they didn’t want to cause mass panic. But I worked with Commander Shepard. I saw the uncensored reports. The Reapers are real.”
“It’s still a hell of a leap to trace this all back to Qian,” Kahlee noted.
“You told me Qian had become obsessed with some kind of ancient, hyperadvanced AI technology. I think he found something connected to the Reapers. Saren must have gotten his hands on it during our mission to Camala.”
“Okay. But I still don’t see the connection with Cerberus.”
“A few months ago, Cerberus learned the Collectors were abducting humans from remote colonies in the Terminus Systems so they could conduct horrific experiments on them.
“Cerberus stopped the Collectors, and they discovered they were working for the Reapers … just like Saren!”
“How do you know all this?” Sato demanded.
“I’ve seen the mission reports,” Anderson assured them. “I’ve talked to people who were there. I’m not making this up.
“Cerberus must have recovered some of the Reaper technology from the Collectors. That’s what they were doing here—experimenting on Grayson the same way the Collectors were experimenting on the colonists!”
“This is ridiculous!” the tech declared, and the general murmur from the turian scientists in the room seemed to support him.
“Look at the files,” Anderson insisted. “You’ll see I’m right.”
Everyone turned to Kahlee, waiting for her opinion on the matter. She wasn’t going to condemn Anderson’s theory, but she wasn’t ready to support it yet. Not without further evidence either way.
“The files will tell us the truth,” she reminded them. “But whatever Ce
rberus was up to here, we need to figure it out.”
FOURTEEN
Kai Leng wasn’t worried about being recognized as he made his way through the twisting thoroughfares of Omega. The last time he had been here his appearance had been carefully altered. This time, as per the Illusive Man’s instructions, he wasn’t wearing a disguise.
Still, he was wary. Though he appeared calm on the surface, his senses had entered a state of hyperawareness. It was always a good idea to be on the lookout for trouble when visiting Omega. The lawless station was overrun with mercenaries and criminals; every encounter had the potential to suddenly erupt into violence.
Kai Leng glared at a pair of batarians approaching him, his eyes burning into them, sizing them up as potential threats. The four-eyed freaks noticed him staring. He could see a moment of indecision in their eyes: was this a threat worth confronting, or one they should just walk away from? In the end they made the right choice and crossed over to the other side of the street.
When the Illusive Man had first told him of his latest assignment, Kai Leng had expressed his skepticism.
“I don’t think Aria T’Loak is a fan of Cerberus.”
“She’s a businesswoman,” the Illusive Man had assured him. “At the very least she’ll listen to our offer.”
“And if she refuses?”
“We’re not looking for a fight,” the Illusive Man had reminded him. “We’re trying to form a partnership.
“I need someone I can trust for this mission,” he’d continued. “Just say and do everything exactly like I told you and it will all work out.”
Kai Leng rounded the corner and came in sight of Afterlife. As was typical, the line to get in stretched down the block before disappearing around the corner. He had no intention of waiting in the queue, however.
Marching up to the krogan bouncer at the entrance, he declared, “I need to see Aria T’Loak.”
“Name?” the krogan asked, ready to relay it to someone inside for confirmation that he was expected.