Drew Karpyshyn - Retribution

“You might be able to sell his information, but you’ll never find a buyer who can even come close to matching our offer,” he told her. “He’s worth more to both of us dead than alive.”

Aria thought about it before nodding her assent.

“I accept your offer. Your representative can stay here as my guest until the deal is done.”

“No,” the Illusive Man replied, flatly declining her offer. “Cerberus will contact you with Sanders’s location only after he is safely off Omega.”

“Are you trying to offend me?” Aria asked. “Everyone knows my word is my bond.”

“Nothing changes hands until we report back,” the Illusive Man insisted. “When we contact you about Sanders, you can provide instructions to transfer the credits into your account and we’ll send the down payment.”

She considered the offer for several minutes before nodding her agreement.

“We have a deal.”

The holographic image suddenly vanished as Aria immediately disconnected the call, determined to get in the last word.

The Illusive Man let the hint of a satisfied smile cross his lips as he spun in his chair to better enjoy the magnificent view while finishing his cigarette.

Kai Leng bit his tongue to keep from commenting on Aria’s abrupt end to her call with the Illusive Man. He suspected she had done it to try and get a rise out of him, and he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.

“One of our operatives will contact you through the extranet once I’m off the station,” he said, reiterating the Illusive Man’s terms. “She’ll make arrangements to transfer the funds.”

“Why are you so eager to leave?” she asked. “We should celebrate this partnership. At least stay and enjoy a drink in the club. On me.”

“Our business is done. I’m ready to leave,” Kai Leng insisted.

He had no desire to stay any longer in her presence than was absolutely necessary, and he wasn’t worried about offending her with his honest answer. Aria had made the logical decision to accept the deal; she wasn’t about to change her mind because of a little rudeness on his part. She was far too smart to let emotions get in the way of business.

The asari shrugged indifferently, confirming his theory.

“As you wish. Sanak, escort our anonymous guest out.”

The batarian led him from the private room, through the club, and back to the entrance. Kai Leng was only too happy to retrieve his weapons and leave the pounding music of Afterlife behind for the crowded Omega streets.

He made his way down the street for several blocks in the direction of the nearest spaceport, keeping an eye out to see if he was being followed. Once he was satisfied Aria hadn’t put a tail on him, he changed course.

Despite what he’d told Aria, the Illusive Man had given Kai Leng specific instructions to remain on Omega after the meeting.

“Keep an eye on Aria and her people,” he’d said. “Make sure they keep their end of the bargain.

“If they don’t,” he’d added, “take matters into your own hands. Do whatever it takes. Grayson cannot be allowed to live.”

When Grayson came to he was sitting slumped forward in the pilot’s seat of the turian shuttle, his chin resting on his chest.

He raised his head slowly, the muscles in his neck stiff and sore. His mouth was dry, he had a pounding headache, and he was sweating profusely: the familiar first stages of red sand withdrawal. With Cerberus no longer refilling the dispenser pumping the drugs into his system, his body was on its way to becoming clean again.

Lifting himself carefully from the seat, he reached his hands up to the ceiling to try and stretch out his aching back. Only then did he recall the injuries he’d sustained during the attack: the broken hand; the rounds in his shoulder and legs … injuries that had miraculously healed themselves while he had slept.

It took a few seconds before the full implications struck him. The Reapers had repaired his body while he was unconscious, but now he was the one standing and stretching! He was in control again!

The Reapers were still there. He could feel them deep inside his mind, slumbering like some great beast. The outburst of biotic and physical energy had forced them to withdraw into the dark recesses of his subconscious to rest and recharge.

This proved their power was not infinite, but he knew that when they attempted to seize control of him again they would come back stronger than ever. The cybernetics in his body were spreading … growing.

Soon the Reapers would dominate him absolutely; he wouldn’t have many more windows of opportunity left.

Sudden spasms in his stomach and bowels caused him to double over: another side effect of the red sand withdrawal. Moving quickly but carefully, he made his way to the head at the back of the shuttle.

Turian and human physiology was similar enough for him to use the toilet, something he was grateful for as his body tried to purge itself through both ends.

It was nearly ten minutes before his stomach settled enough for him to feel safe leaving the bathroom.

Even though the Reapers were dormant, he could sense their instinctive revulsion at the graphic display of organic weakness. Grayson didn’t enjoy it, either, but his withdrawal gave him hope. Without the red sand clouding his thoughts, he’d have a better chance of holding the Reapers at bay when they tried to seize control of him once more.

He didn’t know what the Reapers wanted. Their persistent presence in his mind gave him no insight into their ultimate goal. But whatever it was, he was determined to stop it.

Suicide was the quickest solution, of course. End his life now, and the threat would be eliminated. The easiest way would be to end it with a single shot to the head, but the Reapers had jettisoned the turians’ weapons along with their bodies. He wondered if this was just coincidence, or if they had done this in anticipation of his reaction.

There were other options available to him, though. He got up and made his way over to the emergency kit in the back of the shuttle.

Something is wrong.

The Reapers sensed the changes in the brain waves of their host through the synthetic network monitoring his mental activity. They recognized the pattern flashing through his synapses: hopelessness; self-destruction. They had lost a vessel once before like this. This time they were prepared.

Grayson opened the metal emergency kit and examined the contents. There was medi-gel; a massive overdose could put him into a coma from which he might never wake. But would that even stop the Reapers? Or would they simply animate his flesh and send him stumbling around like some kind of zombie?

Dismissing the drugs, Grayson let his eyes fall on the next available option: the emergency kit’s long, jagged utility knife. But it couldn’t be a simple slit on the wrist; the incredible healing properties of his own flesh would betray him. He would have to slash his throat, making a cut so deep he bled out before the Reapers even realized what was happening.

The avatar cannot be allowed to harm itself.

The Reapers understood that Grayson had grown more resistant to their overt attempts to control him; his mind was adapting, developing new ways to protect itself from their domination. But there were other forms of control.

Tapping into his body’s unconscious systems, the Reapers increased the levels of hormones being released into Grayson’s system even as they subtly manipulated the electrical impulses in the brain to alter his emotional state.

Grayson’s heart began to pound. He tried not to think about what he was going to do in case he lost his nerve. As he picked up the knife, his hands were shaking. He raised the trembling blade to his throat and closed his eyes.