Mass Effect: Revelation by Drew Karpyshyn

Author:Drew Karpyshyn [Karpyshyn, Drew]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2010-12-13T00:00:00+00:00

[Mass Effect 01] - Revelation

Then he heard a loud crack, crack, crack—the familiar retort of an Alliance Hahne-Kedar P15-25—and the krogan staggered away. He’d been shot three times in the heavy hump of muscle and bone on his back, but he was still standing.

Lieutenant Anderson stood in the doorway, pistol drawn. He came into the room, firing the pistol a half dozen more times as the krogan turned to face him. He aimed low, looking to take out the legs. One of his shots found the exposed joint at the knee where the hard plates of body armor were connected by a flexible, but vulnerable, padded mesh.

Roaring in rage and agony the krogan crashed to the ground, clutching at his wounded joint.

“One move and the next shot goes right between your eyes,” Anderson warned, taking a bead on the bony ridge running along the top of the krogan’s skull.

Grissom was impressed. It wasn’t easy to take a human in full body armor down with a pistol, never mind a krogan.

“I’m glad to see you here,” he managed to gasp once the wind returned to his lungs.

“You didn’t honestly expect me to be fooled by that little performance you gave the other day,”

Anderson replied, never taking his eyes or his weapon off the krogan in the corner. “I’ve been watching this place ever since I walked out your door.”

Grissom struggled to his feet, his left arm still dangling uselessly, his right pressed against his heavily bleeding wound. A moan of pain escaped his lips.

“Your friend is hurt,” the krogan growled.

Anderson wasn’t distracted, even for an instant. “He’s tough. He’ll live.”

The krogan was bleeding from the shot to his knee. The armor on his chest was peppered with small holes, the padding beneath scorched and burned. Dark blood oozed from three of them. Anderson guessed at least one of the shots to the back had penetrated deep enough to do some damage as well. But he’d seen krogans take a hell of a lot more punishment than this and keep coming.

The alien on the ground was a wounded beast—angry, desperate, and unpredictable. He was panting, though whether from pain, exertion, or pure rage it was hard to say. His scarred, brutish face was a mask of intense concentration; his muscles were tensed as if he was gathering himself to make a move.

But if he tried anything Anderson would shoot him in the head from inside of three meters. Even a krogan couldn’t survive that.

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