"What about security personnel?"

"We should be able to alert them from the guard station," Kahlee said.

They quickly made their way into the small control room overlooking the dock. Kahlee flipped a few switches, then slammed her hand down on the console in frustration.

"The whole system's fried."

"Any other security stations close by?"

She shook her head. "They're spread out everywhere. It'd take forever to gather them all."

"Do you have any idea where Grayson is going?" Anderson asked.

Kahlee thought about it for a moment before answering.

"If the Reapers are just looking for information, he'll head to the data archives. If they're after more victims, he'll head for the dorms. Either way he's heading for the Ascension wing.

"Come on," she added, turning to rush off.

Anderson grabbed her forearm, stopping her in her tracks.

"Grayson took the guards' pistols. We know he's armed. You can't go after him without a weapon."

"I have a knife," she reminded him, showing him where she'd slid it into her boot.

"You need a gun."

"This is a school, not a military base," she explained. "The only guns on-site are carried by the guards.

"Besides," she added, holding up her splinted fingers, "I couldn't fire one anyway."

"Where's the nearest guard station?" Anderson asked.

"Down the hall and to the right," she replied. "But the Ascension wing is in the opposite direction."

"Then we split up," Anderson declared, falling into the familiar role of an officer barking out orders.

"You go alert the guards. Get them to help you search the dorms. If you don't run into Grayson, round up all the kids and take them somewhere safe," he added, knowing Kahlee's primary concern would be for the safety of the children.

To his relief, she nodded in agreement.

"Take a left when you go out into the main hall," she told him. "If you just keep following it you'll end up at the main entrance to the Ascension wing.

"When you get there, look for the map painted on the wall. The data archive is off the main research lab. Look for the large room near the center of the map marked Restricted Area."

There was an awkward moment of silence. Anderson didn't know whether he should kiss her, hug her, or simply say "Good luck." Kahlee resolved the issue by leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on the lips, then turning and dashing out the door and down the hall.

Grasping the shotgun firmly in his hands, Anderson lowered the visor of his helmet and set off at a run in the other direction.

Back on the ship, Kai Leng was working to free himself from his bonds. His wrists and forearms were tied to the arms of the copilot seat; his ankles and calves were lashed firmly to the supports underneath. He wasn't completely immobilized, however.

By straining against his bonds he was able to gain just enough play in the rope to allow him to wiggle from side to side in the seat. Each time he did so the rope pulled taut, digging painfully into his flesh ... but it also rubbed against the rough metal on the underside of the padded armrests of the chair.

He started slowly, rocking himself and twisting his torso, applying as much tension to the rope as possible, testing the limits of his movement. Then he began to pick up speed, side to side and back and forth, increasing the friction. In less than a minute the ropes had scraped his skin raw. After another they began to draw blood.

The blood mingled with the sweat of his exertion, making a warm, sticky mess that quickly covered his arms and dripped onto the seat and the floor around it. Kai Leng was oblivious, however; all his attention was focused on working the rope against the metal fittings of the chair, fraying it one woven nylon strand at a time.

It took nearly five minutes, but in the end the wear and tear caused one of the loops securing his left arm to snap. The others quickly went slack as he wriggled his arm, until they were loose enough for him to slide his crimson-soaked limb loose.

He attacked the knots holding his right arm in place, the fingers of his left hand slick with blood and sweat. It was frustrating work, but after another minute he managed to free his dominant hand. Then he set to work on the ropes around his legs and ankles.

The angle was awkward; he had to lean forward and down to reach under his seat. Unable to see what he was doing, he had to stop every twenty or thirty seconds to keep the blood rushing to his head from causing him to black out. In the end it took him longer to free his legs than it had his arms, but ultimately he was free.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, he stood up slowly. His legs had fallen asleep from being held in the same position for so long. Gritting his teeth and clutching the bloody copilot's chair for support, he gingerly walked it off, doing everything he could to get the blood circulating again.

When the pins and needles finally faded, Kai Leng headed for the first-aid kit in the back of the shuttle. He wiped away the blood with a sanitized towel, then smeared a layer of soothing medi-gel on the gashed and torn flesh of his burning forearms.

Then he paused to consider his next course of action. One option was to simply close the airlock and fly away, leaving Anderson and Sanders to try and deal with Grayson. This seemed to be the most sensible thing to do; he had no weapon and it was likely everyone on the station would be as much against him as they were against Grayson.

But he knew that would displease the Illusive Man. There was a good chance Grayson would escape. Once he left the Academy, he would be virtually impossible to find ... especially if he killed Sanders before fleeing.

The more Kai Leng thought about it, the more he realized this might be the last chance Cerberus would have to stop the Reapers. And even if it meant confronting Grayson unarmed, he couldn't let the opportunity slip from his fingers.

With his mind made up, he didn't waste any more time. Moving quickly, he passed through the docking ramp and airlocks and into what was obviously a security clearance room.

Two bodies lay on the floor: one male, one female. A quick inspection revealed they had been killed with a knife. The fact that Grayson hadn't simply crushed them with some type of biotic power gave Kai Leng hope; it could mean his enemy was exhausted and possibly even vulnerable.

He felt the familiar spark of excitement flickering deep inside him. At heart he was a killer, a predator. He lived for the chase. And the hunt was about to begin.

TWENTY-FOUR.

The Reapers were being cautious. Methodical. There was no need to hurry, so they didn't.

Eager to avoid unnecessary confrontations, they set Grayson off on a winding, circuitous route through the halls of the Academy, using the schematics they had downloaded from the guard station. It was night on the station, so they chose a route that passed by empty offices rather than dorm rooms where students would be sleeping.

With the blanket still wrapped tightly around his body, Grayson was nothing more than a passenger along for the ride. He was grateful their route kept them from running into anyone else, however. He didn't want to imagine what would happen if one of the students happened to stumble across them.

Eventually they reached the door of the Ascension Project's primary research laboratory. The door was closed, but the Reapers knew that the data archives for the entire project were stored in the room beyond.

They had Grayson lean forward and press his ear against the portal. Through the door and the blanket, his hypersensitive hearing picked up voices coming from the other side. Scientists working late, most likely.

They let the bloodstained blanket fall to the floor, then hit the panel to open the door. It slid back to reveal what was quite clearly a research lab. A bank of computer stations lined one wall. The opposite wall contained shelves of biological samples taken from the students to monitor their health and progress. In the back corner were various pieces of expensive equipment used to analyze the samples, as well as the electronic data collected weekly from the implants of every child in the program.

Two men and a woman occupied the room. One of the men was seated at a computer station, his chair turned away from the screens as he conversed with the other man and the woman. She was smiling knowingly, as if she'd just made a joke; the two men were laughing out loud.

All three turned in Grayson's direction as he came in. Their expressions transformed from laughter to fear, though it was impossible to say whether the cause was Grayson's mutated appearance or the twin pistols he carried.

The Reapers fired three shots in rapid succession. Each bullet was perfectly placed in the exact center of the forehead, causing instantaneous death. The three researchers fell to the floor, their lives forfeit simply because they had chosen this particular night to put in a few hours of overtime.

Standing perfectly still, the Reapers listened for the sound of any response to the three pistol shots that had echoed in the room. There were no cries of alarm from down the hall; there were no sounds of running footsteps. Satisfied that the obstacles had been eliminated without alerting anyone else on the station, the Reapers turned and casually hit the panel to close the door.

In the back of the lab was another door; beyond it were the data archives. The archives consisted of an OSD library and server array that contained every reading and every result from every test on every student who had ever participated in the Ascension Project.

Not surprisingly, the door to the data archives was locked. Access to the information was restricted to only a handful of senior staff on the project, and required a keycard, access code, and biological identification confirmed via voice and retinal scans. It took the Reapers less than two minutes to hack the door open.

Once inside, the Reapers began to access the data using the lone terminal in the room. As the information flickered on the screen, Grayson scanned it, processed it, and transmitted it instantaneously back to his Reaper overlords in dark space.

The sensation was unlike anything Grayson had ever experienced. It was exhilarating. Intoxicating. Euphoric. Even a red sand high couldn't compare with the rush of being a conduit for pure data transmission.

But it was also taxing. Draining. Exhausting. Transmitting trillions of terabytes of data required a tremendous output of energy, and the Reapers knew their avatar was already weak. So they went slowly, taking their time, careful not to destroy their precious vessel.

"We've got an emergency," Kahlee said as she burst into the guard station closest to the security clearance room, slightly out of breath from running the entire way.

"Three of you come with me. The other two go alert the other guard stations and put the whole Academy on stage-four lockdown."

Hendel Mitra, the former security chief at the Grissom Academy, had been a close personal friend of Kahlee's. His successor, Captain Ellen Jimenez, was a capable replacement, but Kahlee and she had never formed the same close, personal bond. Fortunately, she still respected Kahlee enough not to question her when she burst into the guard station and started barking out orders to the staff.

"Jackson and M'gabi," the new security chief said, nodding at two of her people, "go warn the others. Seal off this wing-nobody gets in or out."

Turning to Kahlee she said, "Lead the way."

The fact that Jimenez had been on duty was pure coincidence. Racing down the hall toward the Ascension wing, Kahlee couldn't help but wonder if the other security personnel would have been as quick to listen to her if they hadn't seen their supervisor so easily falling into step.

We're going to need a few more lucky breaks if we want to get out of this alive, Kahlee thought.

"What's going on?" Jimenez asked as she ran beside her.

Not wanting to go into the whole story, Kahlee decided to stick to the details that mattered. "Someone infiltrated the station. We have to evacuate the Ascension Project dorms. Get the children somewhere safe."

"The cafeteria," Jimenez suggested. "Get everyone inside, and reinforce the room with as many security personnel as we can spare."

"Good idea," Kahlee replied.

When they reached the dorms, they had to split up. There were three separate student halls, plus a fourth for the faculty. Jimenez dispatched her people with the calm, cool efficiency of a true leader.

"Giller, take the far hall. Malkin, the one next to it."

"Don't let anyone out of your sight," Kahlee warned them. "Not even the staff. We've already had two casualties."

She didn't offer the names, uncertain what effect it might have. To the credit of Jimenez and her staff, they didn't ask.

"Rendezvous back at the cafeteria," Jimenez called after the others as they ran off. "The same goes for you," she said, turning to Kahlee. "Are you armed?"

"Got a knife in my boot."

Jimenez glanced down at the splints on her fingers.

"Can you fire a pistol with those things?" she asked.

"I doubt it," Kahlee replied.

Jimenez unclipped the gun from her side and offered it to Kahlee anyway.

"Just in case," she said before rushing off to start rousing the children from their beds.

Kahlee awkwardly tucked the pistol into her belt, then hurried over to the closest room. She opened the door and flicked on the light to find Nick asleep in his bed. The teenager rolled over and looked at her with the confusion of someone still half asleep.

"Get up, Nick," she said. "Right now. Hurry."

"What's going on?" he mumbled.

"Please, Nick. Just get up and meet me in the hall right away."

Not waiting for a response, she went to the next door and repeated the process.

Within five minutes she had all sixteen students following her to the cafeteria.

"Miss Sanders," Nick said, falling into step beside her. "What's going on?"

He'd pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt after she'd woken him up, but his dark hair was still a tangled, uncombed mess.

"Not in front of the children," she replied, knowing he'd be less likely to argue if he felt like she was treating him like an adult.

"Gotcha," he replied, his chest puffing out just a little.

Even in these dire circumstances, Kahlee couldn't help but let a quick smile slip at his reaction.

They were the third group to arrive in the cafeteria. Jimenez showed up with the fourth a few seconds later.

Everyone was milling about, confused and a little alarmed. Being roused from slumber by armed guards-even guards meant to protect you-was more than a little frightening.

"What do we tell them?" Jimenez wanted to know.

"Listen up!" Kahlee called out, projecting her voice so everyone could hear. "Nobody is allowed to leave this room without permission from me or Captain Jimenez."

She paused, and there was an instant onslaught of questions, mostly from the other members of the staff. "What's going on?" ... "How long do we have to stay here?" ... "Are we in danger?"

Kahlee wasn't about to tell them the whole story. It would take too long, and they probably wouldn't believe her anyway. And if they did believe her, it might cause panic.

"It's possible we have an abduction scenario in progress," she continued, shouting to be heard above everyone else. "We haven't confirmed that yet, but we're not taking any chances."

The threat of a student being kidnapped was something everyone in the room could easily accept and understand. Every child at the Grissom Academy was special in some way. In addition to the biotics of the Ascension Project, the school had a high proportion of academic geniuses and artistic prodigies, as well as a large number of children with parents rich and influential enough to get their offspring onto the enrollment list of the best school in Alliance space.