Drew Karpyshyn: Retribution

And that meant smoothing things over with Aria T’Loak. He couldn’t afford a war with her, and she had something he needed.

He had just finished his cigarette and started another when he heard the soft beep indicating an incoming message. He spun his chair to face the holo-pad.

“Accept call,” he said.

A flickering, three-dimensional image of Omega’s Pirate Queen materialized in the center of the room.

She was alone, seated in the same room she had called him from the last time they had spoken.

“I’m not very happy with Cerberus right now,” she declared, skipping the formalities and getting right down to business. “You didn’t warn me what Grayson had become.”

“It wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t tried to take him alive,” the Illusive Man countered.

“You’re the one who reneged on the deal.”

“I’ve heard Cerberus has suffered some rather serious setbacks of late,” she said, changing topics in a blatant effort to rattle him.

“The stories of our demise are greatly exaggerated,” he assured her, borrowing a quote from one of his favorite literary figures.

“I lost a lot of good people because of you,” Aria told him. “I don’t forget something like that.”

“A war doesn’t help either one of us,” he countered. “I thought you were smart enough to know that.”

“Is that why you called me? To sue for peace?”

“I have a business deal.”

She laughed.

“What makes you think I’ll say yes after the way the last one turned out?”

“This one won’t cost you anything. No risk. Only reward. It’s a deal you can’t pass up.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want the research files from the station where you attacked the turians.”

“That was your lab originally, wasn’t it? You used me to get revenge on them.”

“I think we used each other. What about those files?”

“Why should I turn them over to you? Maybe I’ll just keep them for myself.”

“So keep the originals for yourself. Just send me a copy.”

“Were these experiments really what I think they were?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you think they were,” the Illusive Man replied evasively.

“What’s your offer?”

“Send me the files and I’ll give you three million. One up front, two on final delivery.”

“Three million, and I can keep the originals?”

“All I want is the data,” he assured her. “But I’ll know if you hold anything back. If you want to get paid, you send everything.”

“You really believe in this, don’t you,” she said. “The Reapers. Galactic extinction. You don’t think it’s some crazy story.”

“Let’s just say I’m not willing to take that chance.”

“I’ll send you the files,” Aria agreed. “You’ll have them by tomorrow.”

“I’ll put the down payment into your account tonight. Same as last time?”

“The same,” she said with a coy smile. “Unlike you, I don’t care if people know what I’m up to.”

Before he could reply, she disconnected the call. He laughed in spite of himself, amused at how important to her it was to get the last word.

He spun his chair to face the viewing port and pulled out a cigarette. He’d half-finished it when one of his assistants arrived to slip a glass into his hand before quickly removing herself from the room.

As he sipped his drink and smoked his cigarette, the Illusive Man’s gaze shifted from the glowing blue star to the cold black curtain behind it. One thought kept running through his head, over and over.

The Reapers are out there somewhere. And they’re coming .

2010 year