Revelation

The mercs climbed into their vehicles and sped off into the dusk, switching on their lights to guide them through the gloom.

Saren leaped down from his vantage point and ran over to the small scout rover he had parked nearby. The vehicle had been specially modified for stealth missions at night: the headlamps were equipped with dimming covers to disperse the illumination and angle it down toward the ground, creating a faint glow that would be enough to navigate by but was barely visible from more than a kilometer away.

In contrast, the high-powered beams of the other vehicles blazed like beacons in the darkness of the desert night. He’d easily be able to spot them from as far as ten kilometers out.

All he had to do was follow them, and they’d lead him right to wherever Edan was hiding.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Anderson couldn’t help but feel nervous about this meeting. Even though the Council had officially approved the ambassador’s request, he was still haunted by the memory of his last meeting with Saren. For several long moments he’d been absolutely convinced the turian was going to leave him for dead outside the ruins of Dah’tan. When Ambassador Goyle had revealed that Saren might have a general hatred of the Alliance, he wasn’t the least bit surprised.

“Personal information on Spectres is sealed,” she told him, “but our intel dug up something interesting. Seems he lost his brother during the First Contact War.”

The lieutenant knew there were more than a few turians who were still bitter about the conflict, especially those who had lost family members. And he suspected Saren was the type who didn’t just carry a grudge, but fed it constantly. It may have started as a desire to avenge his brother, but after eight years it would have grown into something much darker: a twisted, festering loathing for all humanity.

As much as he wanted to catch those responsible for what had happened at Sidon, he wasn’t looking forward to working with Saren on this mission. He had a bad feeling about all this; just like the one he’d gotten when the Hastings had first responded to Sidon’s distress call. But he’d been given his orders,

and he intended to follow them.

The fact that the turian was over an hour late didn’t make him feel any better. In the interests of trying to smooth things over, Anderson had let him pick the time and place of the meeting. He’d chosen midday

at a small, dingy bar in a run-down neighborhood on the edges of Hatre. The kind of establishment where the customers made a point of ignoring neighboring conversations. Nobody here wanted to know what anybody else was up to.

Not that there was much chance of anyone overhearing them, anyway. The place was practically deserted this afternoon — probably the reason the turian had chosen this time of day. It made sense, but

as Anderson sat alone at a table in the corner nursing his drink he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of game Saren was playing.

Why wasn’t he here? Was this some kind of setup? Or maybe a ploy to get him out of the way while the

Spectre continued his investigation?

Twenty minutes later, he’d just made up his mind to leave when the door opened and the man he’d been waiting for stepped through. The bartender and the only other customer in the place besides Anderson glanced up as he entered, then looked away as Saren crossed the room with quick, angry steps.

“You’re late,” Anderson said as the turian sat down. He wasn’t expecting an apology, but he felt he was at least owed an explanation.

“I was working.” was the curt reply.

The turian looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept all night. Anderson had contacted him early yesterday afternoon, right after he’d turned Kahlee over to the security team that was to help get her off world. He wondered if Saren had been working the case nonstop since then. Trying to finish everything off before he was forced to join up with his unwanted human partner.

“We’re in this together now,” Anderson reminded him.

“I received the Council’s message,” Saren replied, his voice heavy with contempt. “I intend to honor their wishes.”

“Glad to hear it,” Anderson replied coldly. “Last time we met I thought you were going to kill me.” There was no point in holding anything back; he wanted to know exactly where he stood with the Spectre. “Do I have to spend the rest of this mission looking over my shoulder?”

“I never kill someone without a reason,” Saren reminded him.

“I thought you could always find a reason to kill someone,” the lieutenant countered.

“But now I have a very good reason to keep you alive,” Saren assured him. “If you die, the Alliance will be crying out for my head. And the Council just might be inclined to give it to them. At the very least they’d revoke my Spectre status.

“Truthfully, I couldn’t care less whether you live or die, human,” the Spectre continued. From his tone they might have been discussing the weather. “But I don’t intend to do anything that will put my career at risk.”

Unless you’re sure you can get away with it, Anderson thought. Out loud he asked, “You got the files we sent?”

Saren nodded.

“So what do we do next? How do we find Edan?”

“I’ve already found him” was the smug reply. “How?” Anderson asked, surprised.

“I’m a Spectre. It’s my job.”

Realizing no explanation was forthcoming, Anderson let the matter drop. “Where is he?”

“In a bunker at an eezo refinery,” Saren replied. He tossed a set of architectural blueprints down on the table. “These are the schematics.”

Anderson almost asked where he’d gotten them, then bit his tongue. By law all eezo refineries were required to undergo a semia

“I scouted out the exterior,” Saren continued. “It’s surrounded by a civilian work camp; the defenses are minimal. If we wait until nightfall, we should be able to get inside the perimeter without alerting anyone.”

“Then what? We just sneak in and kill Edan?” “I’d prefer to take him alive. For interrogation.”

Something in the way he said interrogation made Anderson shiver. He already knew Saren had a cruel streak; it wasn’t hard to imagine that he actually enjoyed torturing prisoners as part of his job.

The turian must have seen his reaction. “You don’t like me, do you?”

There was no point in lying to him. Saren wouldn’t have believed him anyway.

“I don’t like you. It’s clear that you’re not my biggest fan, either. But I respect what you do. You’re a

Spectre, and I think you’re damn good at your job. I’m hoping I can learn something from you.” “And I’m just hoping you don’t screw this mission up for me,” Saren replied.

Anderson refused to rise to the bait. “You said we should infiltrate the refinery after dark. What do we do until then?”

“I need some rest,” the turian stated flatly, confirming Anderson’s suspicions that he’d been up all night.

midnight. That should give us enough time to get in and out before it gets light.”

The turian pushed his chair away from the table; obviously he felt the meeting was over. “Meet me back here at sixteen hundred,” he said before turning and walking away.

Anderson waited until he was gone, tossed a few credits down on the table to cover his drink, then got up and left. Camala used the galactic standard twenty-hour clock and it still wasn’t even 12:00 yet. There was no way he was spending the next four hours in this dive.

Besides, he hadn’t spoken to Ambassador Goyle since yesterday morning. Now might be a good time to check back in and see how Kahlee was doing. Strictly for the sake of the mission, of course.