Mass Effect™: Ascension

by Drew Karpyshyn

  Handing the register back, he gave the nurse one last smile, then turned to see Gillian standing silently at the threshold of her room, watching them intently.

  “Time to go,” he told her, and she obediently moved forward and fell into step beside him.

  Kahlee wasn’t surprised to find the door to Hendel’s office closed when she got there. She could only imagine all the things he’d had to deal with over the past twenty-four hours.

  “Door—open,” she heard him call out in response to her knock.

  When he saw her standing there he motioned for her to come in before saying, “Door—close.”

  Hendel’s office was a mess, but that in itself wasn’t unusual. He didn’t like paperwork, and it tended to pile up quickly. He always had stacks of printed reports piled on his desk, with a few more piles stacked on the floor beside it, waiting for his review. The tops of the tall metal cabinets along the back wall were covered with all manner of forms, requests, and waivers needing signatures or waiting to be filed in the proper folder.

  The security chief was seated behind his desk, staring intently at his computer screen. She crossed the room and took one of the two chairs across from his. He reached out and flipped off the monitor as she sat down, let out a long, weary sigh, then leaned back in his chair.

  He’d changed his soaked, food-stained clothes since she’d seen him yesterday outside Gillian’s hospital room, but it looked like he hadn’t taken the time to shower. She could still see tiny bits of bread caught in his hair and clinging to the short, reddish brown whiskers of his beard. There was a day’s growth of stubble on his cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot and baggy.

  “Were you working all night?” she asked him.

  “Damage control,” he answered. “Some anonymous jackoff on staff already leaked the story. I’ve got calls coming in from media, school administrators, government officials, and angry parents. The parents are the worst.”

  “They’re just worried about their kids.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He nodded. “But if I find out who leaked the story I’ll make damn sure their ass gets fired.” He sat forward in his chair, thumping his hand hard on the desk to punctuate his words.

  “Did you get in touch with Grayson yet?”

  Hendel shook his head disapprovingly. “I left a message, but he didn’t call back.”

  “Maybe he’s not available.”

  “An emergency contact number’s no damn good if you’re not there during an emergency,” he snapped back at her, then immediately apologized. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “No,” he said, resting his elbows on the desk and placing his head in his hands.

  Kahlee stayed silent, waiting patiently. A few seconds later he looked up at her and said softly, “I think we might have to pull Gillian out of the program.”

  “I was thinking that myself,” she said with a sympathetic nod.

  Hendel leaned back in his chair again and put his feet up on the desk, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

  “I’m thinking of offering the board my resignation,” he said, the casualness of his voice at odds with the bombshell he’d just dropped.

  “What?” Kahlee exclaimed. “You can’t quit! The children need you!”

  “Do they?” he wondered out loud. “Yesterday I let them down when they needed me the most.”

  “What are you talking about? Nick and Gillian were the only ones hurt, and they’ll both be fine in a few days. You did everything right!”

  He swung his feet down from the desk and sat up, leaning forward intently.

  “No, I didn’t,” he told her, his voice gravely serious. “When I realized Gillian wasn’t going to stop, I should have hit her with my stunner without a second thought. But I hesitated.”

  “I think that’s a good thing,” Kahlee protested. “I’d be more worried if you didn’t think twice about it.”

  “Everyone in that cafeteria was in danger,” he explained, speaking slowly. “Every second I let her keep going there was a chance someone else could get hurt. Or worse.”

  “But that didn’t happen. There’s no point beating yourself up over it.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head in frustration. “I put the safety of Gillian ahead of every other student at this Academy. I can’t afford to do that in my position. I’m trained to react in emergency situations, and I can’t let my personal feelings get in the way.”

  Kahlee didn’t say anything right away, her mind reeling as she processed the information. She thought he was overreacting, but he wasn’t a man prone to empty comments; she had no doubt he was serious about leaving.

  “What will you do?”

  “I was thinking of asking Grayson to hire me as a private tutor for Gillian.”

  Suddenly everything made sense. Kahlee realized this wasn’t about Hendel feeling guilty over what had happened. Not really. Hendel cared about all the kids in the program, but Gillian was different. She needed more help than the other children. She needed more time and attention. Because of this, Hendel had grown more attached to her than the others. It wasn’t fair, but who ever said life was fair?

  Gillian was special to him. Hendel cared for her. He loved her. And he was willing to do whatever it took to stay in her life, even if it meant throwing away his career.

  “Hold off on that resignation for a while,” Kahlee said, reaching out to pat him gently on the hand. “At least until we know for sure if the board will let Gillian stay.”

  “They’re not going to let her stay. We both know that.”

  “Probably not,” she admitted. “But there’s always a chance.” Her mind went back to her conversation with Jiro from the night before. “If I have to, I could get my father involved.”

  “Your father?” Hendel asked, confused.

  “Admiral Jon Grissom.”

  Hendel’s jaw gaped. “Grissom’s your dad? I…I didn’t know that.”

  “I don’t like to talk about him,” she said. “Jiro’s probably the only one who knows.”

  “What did he say when you told him?” Hendel asked, still stunned.

  “I…I don’t remember,” Kahlee answered uncertainly, trying to think back. Funny. I should remember telling him something like that. “I actually can’t remember telling him. But he knows. We were talking about it last night.” But if I didn’t tell him, then how does he know?

  Hendel’s expression changed from disbelief to one of concern. “Kahlee? What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

  “Nobody knows who my father is,” she said slowly, still trying to work out the implications for herself. “It’s not even listed in my Alliance personnel file. There’s only one document that mentions my father: the classified report Anderson filed twenty years ago. Top secret clearance required.”

  “And you’re positive you never mentioned it to him? Why the hell would one of your lab techs have top secret clearance?” Hendel asked, worried. “Something doesn’t add up.”

  Kahlee could only nod, numb from the possibility that the man she’d been sleeping with had been lying to her all along. Lying about how much? And why?

  “I need to talk to Jiro. Now!” Hendel told her, yanking open the drawer of his desk and pulling out a pistol. “Where is he?” he demanded, strapping the pistol onto his hip.

  “He went to see Gillian.”

  Hendel slammed the buttons of the speaker-phone on his desk, moving quickly, but still staying calm and focused. Kahlee was upset as well, but even so, Hendel’s urgency surprised her. Perhaps he was eager to get back to being in control, anxious to focus on something other than the events of the past day.

  “Quarantine ward,” the nurse’s voice answered.

  “This is Security Chief Mitra. Has Dr. Toshiwa come to see Gillian yet?”

  “Yes, sir. He took her to the atrium. Would you like me to—”

  Hendel killed th
e call, barking out, “Door—open!” as he sprinted from the room. He moved so fast it took Kahlee a full second before she reacted and took off after him.

  ELEVEN

  “We’re almost there,” Jiro said encouragingly. “Just a little farther and then we can sit down.”

  Gillian was moving slowly, taking one painfully measured step at a time as they made their way down the walking path of the Grissom Academy’s atrium. He should have anticipated this. She was distracted by all the trees and plants; leaves in a myriad of shapes and flowers in a kaleidoscope of colors were too much for her limited sensory perception to process all at once.

  They hadn’t seen anybody else in the atrium so far; not surprising as most of the staff and students were in class. But the trails that wound their way through the wooded park were popular spots for runners looking to get in some exercise during their free time. He didn’t want to start giving her the medication only to have some off-duty Alliance soldier come jogging around the corner and catch him in the act. So he was doing his best to hurry her along, careful not to touch her or upset her by getting overly anxious.

  “We can rest over by the waterfall, Gillian. Come on. Not much farther.”

  The atrium was a five-acre woodland that had been carefully constructed at the heart of the space station to provide a place for faculty and students to commune with nature. The glass roof was equipped with adjustable mirrors to reflect and redirect light from Elysium’s sun down onto the trees below, mimicking the duration of the day-night and seasonal cycles found on the planet.

  Local flora made up the majority of the plant life, though a few exotic species imported from other human colonized worlds were found in specially tended gardens scattered throughout the park. It was also home to carefully monitored populations of insects, birds, and small mammals indigenous to Elysium, as well as numerous fish species in the small streams that wound their way through the landscape.

  The streams were artificial, the water pumped through them in a continuous circuit that both began and ended at a large pond atop a grassy knoll that rose up from the center of the park. At the base of the knoll was a small clearing where water spilled down from the pond in a makeshift waterfall—a popular place for picnics and lunches. This early in the day, though, Jiro suspected the clearing would be empty…and it was located safely out of sight of the running trails.

  “That’s good, Gillian,” he cooed when she started moving again, her head turning slowly from side to side in bemused wonder at the spectacle surrounding her.

  “Okay, let’s turn right now,” he said to her when they reached a branch in the trail. It was warm beneath the artificial sunlight; he was sweating under his lab coat.

  She stumbled once as he led her down the path toward the waterfall: unlike the carefully tended running trails, the ground here was allowed to grow over with roots, making it rough and uneven. He reached out to grab her elbow to keep her from falling. Fortunately her attention was focused on what he guessed to be the Elysium equivalent of a chipmunk chattering at them from a branch above their heads, and she didn’t seem to react to his touch.

  Still keeping his grip on her elbow, he propelled her quickly down the path until they reached their destination. Half a dozen benches were situated around the edges of the clearing, each positioned so that anyone seated on them could watch the water tumbling off the fifteen-foot-high ledge into the pool below. He was relieved to see the benches were empty.

  Lunch was still over an hour away, and it wasn’t likely anyone would arrive before then. But he didn’t want to take any more of a chance than he had to. Still gripping Gillian by the elbow, he led her over to one of the benches in the shade and helped her sit down, letting go of her arm.

  Then he waited, giving her time to adjust to her new surroundings. He hoped the gentle splashing of the waterfall would have a soothing effect on her.

  After a few minutes she muttered, “Why did you bring me here?”

  He realized she must have picked up on his sense of urgency. He chose his next words carefully. He didn’t want to scare her or upset her; not after what she’d shown she was capable of.

  “I need to check your readings, Gillian,” he said, keeping his tone professional.

  She frowned, and his heart began to beat a little faster.

  “Miss Sanders checked them yesterday.”

  “I know you don’t like it, but I need to check them again,” he explained. “Because of what happened yesterday.”

  Gillian chewed her lip, then nodded and bowed her head forward, exposing the nape of her neck.

  He reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out the vial Grayson had given him. From another pocket he produced a long syringe.

  “This might hurt,” he warned her as he filled the syringe.

  Pulling the back collar of her T-shirt down slightly, he eased the long needle into the flesh between her shoulders, carefully sliding the tip between the vertebrae.

  As per the instructions from Cerberus, he had administered the last dose to her orally, mixing it in with a glass of water he had brought to her room. However, as part of their ongoing experiment, every alternate dose was to be administered through direct injection into the cerebrospinal fluid.

  Gillian whimpered softly as he pressed his thumb down on the top of the syringe.

  Jiro didn’t know exactly what kind of drugs Gillian was being given, but he understood enough to guess they were some kind of neurological stimulant. The previous dose would have been diluted by passing through her digestive system before being absorbed into her circulatory system and then finally transferring across the blood-brain barrier. In contrast, an injection directly into the cerebrospinal fluid should have more immediate, and dramatic, effects.

  “All done,” he said as he pulled the needle free.

  Gillian brought her head back up, her gaze fixating on the waterfall. One hand absently went up to rub the back of her neck where he had injected her.

  Strange. She’s never done that before.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  The girl didn’t answer, though her hand fell away from her neck. It dangled at her side, limp and useless.

  “Gillian? What’s wrong?”

  Her head lolled to the side, her eyes rolling back into her skull. Her body began to shiver, then tremor, then bucked hard enough to throw her from her seat. She toppled forward, Jiro just managing to catch her before her head struck the ground.

  He turned her onto her side as her arms and legs began to twitch, gripped by the spasms of a full-blown seizure.

  “Oh, Jesus!” he swore as her mouth began to foam.

  Hendel’s feet pounded hard on the dormitory floor, the sound echoing down the hall as he raced toward the atrium. Even as he ran, his mind was trying to evaluate the situation.

  Jiro may not be who we thought he was.

  That didn’t necessarily make him an enemy, but until Hendel knew what was going on he had to assume the worst. He pulled his gun as he ran, his hand snapping it free from the holster on his hip in one quick motion without ever breaking stride.

  He debated calling for backup, then quickly dismissed the idea. Jiro didn’t know his cover was blown; Hendel didn’t want anyone sounding an alarm and tipping him off.

  Why did he take Gillian to the atrium?

  He didn’t know how Jiro was connected to Gillian, or if he was somehow responsible for what had happened in the cafeteria. But he intended to find out…one way or another.

  Skidding around a corner, Hendel slammed into the wall, absorbing the blow with his hip and shoulder so that he lost almost no momentum.

  Too many people in the quarantine ward. He wanted privacy. But for what?

  He rounded another corner, sprinted down a short hallway, then took the corridor branching off to his left that led into the wooded serenity of the atrium. If Jiro needed privacy, he’d have to get Gillian somewhere off the paths. But he couldn’t just drag her out into the woods:
she’d freak out every time a branch brushed against her.

  The clearing by the waterfall.

  With Gillian in tow, Jiro would have to stay on the trails, following the long, winding path that eventually led to the clearing. Hendel didn’t have to worry about that. Trusting his sense of direction, he veered off the trail, crashing through the brush as he carved his own direct path.

  Branches slashed at his face and tore at his clothes. He swatted away a wiry limb from an Elysium fir, only to have it spring back so that the needles scratched across his cheek, leaving bright red furrows.

  Hendel simply blocked out the pain, charging forward until he exploded in the clearing. Jiro was kneeling on the ground, over Gillian’s body.

  “Get away from her!” Hendel shouted, aiming his pistol at the young scientist.

  The other man looked up, fear and confusion on his face.

  “Stand up and back away!”

  Jiro did as he was told, moving slowly, his hands raised. “I don’t know what happened. She just started having a seizure.”

  Hendel dared a quick glance down at Gillian, who was convulsing on the ground.

  “Over there,” Hendel said, gesturing with his weapon. “On your stomach. Facedown. Don’t move.”

  Jiro did as he was told, moving quickly. When he was in position, Hendel stepped forward and dropped to his knees beside Gillian, his attention focused entirely on her.

  Daring to shift his head slightly, Jiro could see the security chief huddled over the unconscious girl. Slowly, quietly, he reached down and unclipped the stunner from his belt. When Hendel set his pistol on the grass beside Gillian to check her vitals, Jiro aimed his stunner and fired.

  The shot took the security chief square between the shoulder blades, causing him to arch his back and cry out before slumping forward across Gillian’s body.

  Jiro scrambled to his feet and ran forward, crouching down to pick up Hendel’s gun with his left hand, his stunner still clenched tightly in his right. As his fingers closed around the butt of the pistol, the security chief’s hand shot out and seized him by the wrist.