Part 9

"... Wait, what?" Thomson laughed, "You can't be serious."
"Oh come on you idiot," Renswick growled, "It wasn't that hard to figure out. I am the undercover agent they were talking about on the Citadel."
"... You're a monster..." Emi said.
"Shut up," Renswick responded.
"Renswick..." Thomson began, "... How? You've been my friend for fifteen years!"
"And all that time I have been undercover. And you never suspected anything. Remember when I was late to show up on the Falcon?"
Thomson nodded.
"I had been killing all those people you found on the floor!" he laughed, "And remember how they just happened to know we were coming through that door? I told you where we were going whilst you were fighting the mechs. And I was the one who hit you in the head."
"Bastard!" Thomson hissed, raising his pistol.
"Drop it!" Renswick shouted, "Or I'll shoot the Quarian!"
Thomson dropped his weapon, "Why the fuck do you want me, then? Why didn't you just take me when we were on the Citadel? How did you shoot the soldiers when you were working for them?"
"Unfortunately I can't tell you that. I don't have the authority to discuss Cerberus operations with someone like you. But to your third question the magazines I used were blanks. I didn't fire a single live round - the soldiers pretended to be dead. Oh and by the way, there's someone who wants to talk to you."
The door opened. Three people stepped into the room. All of whom Thomson recognised instantly.
Leading was a terrible man who Thomson had only heard of in whispers. Apparently he had the best and worst traits of humanity rolled into a single being. He had eyes bluer than the glowing orbs of the Husks, and was wearing a black suit with a grey shirt. He had a cigar in his hand, of which smoke poured out of in a slight trickle. The Illusive Man - the leader of Cerberus.
The other two were the two undercover agents who had threatened to torture Emi.
"Oh keelah..." Emi whispered.
"Hello Lieutenant Thomson," said the Illusive Man, "Welcome to the centre of our Earth operations. It is very good to see you. I mean, I made the plans after all. I didn't think you'd be so blind, however."
"Illusive Man," growled Thomson, "What the fuck do you want?"
The leader of Cerberus smiled, taking a moment to smoke his cigar, "We want you, Thomson. Unlike my dear friend Renswick here, I am at liberty to discuss my plans. And I wish for you to know them before they are carried out. It is incredibly fun to see the mix of helplessness and fear on people's faces.
You see, a few years ago, a race called the Collectors - who I believe to be an extinct race known as the Protheans who were changed and mutated by the Reapers to become their soldiers - started abducting and killing human colonies. We brought Commander Shepard back from the dead and he worked with us to try and stop it. We sent him on a mission deep in to Collector space via the Omega 4 relay to try and destroy their base.
He succeeded. Despite my orders for him to not blow it up so we could use their technology, he blew it up. But as he left we sent a single cruiser through the Omega 4 relay to survey the destruction and salvage what we could from the explosion.
And then we found it. Perfectly intact. An experiment by the Collectors and the Reapers. They were using humans and changed them into a biological soup which they used to fuel a mutant. A Human-Reaper."
"And what has this got to do with me?" Thomson asked. His hands were tightening into fists as he tried to stop himself from hitting every Cerberus operative in the room. But instead he kept hugging Emi, who was crying into his shoulder.
"The mind from the Human-Reaper had gone," explained the Illusive Man, "Shepard had destroyed it. But its body was perfect. We needed to do some slight fixing and tweaking of the design but nothing that changed much. But then that left us without a mind for it."
"And that's where I came in," Renswick pointed out with a grin.
"Indeed. Mr Renswick here had been one of our operatives for many years. He had done a survey of Alliance soldiers, and one after the other we tried to use them as a possible mind to power the Human-Reaper, which we would use for our own purpose. But none of them were powerful enough. It wasn't the body that rejected the mind, it was the mind that rejected the body. They were not willing. They did not volunteer for the operation to take place. And then it was your turn. We did a neural scan - your mind was powerful enough to power the Human-Reaper. And now we have a chance for you to be our first volunteer."
"Why the fuck would I volunteer you sick son of a bitch?" Thomson yelled.
"Because if you don't," said one of the people who had threaten to kill Emi, "We'll kill the Quarian."
"... Don't do it Thomson," Emi begged, "Please don't..."
"... I'm sorry," he answered, "But I love you too much. I can't let you die... I already thought I had lost you once..."
He kissed her helmet. She propped her head against his.
"... please," she asked again, "Please..."
"How very touching," grinned the Illusive Man, "Thomson, do you agree? Will you power the Human-Reaper? Will you become greater than your present form?"
Thomson hesitated for a moment, but nodded slowly, "I will..."
"No!" Emi cried.
"Ssh, it's ok," Thomson whispered to her, "You'll be safe..."
"... I don't want to be safe if it's without you..." was the reply.
"I'm sorry Emi... but if your life is at stake I must do this. I love you... my life is meaningless unless I know you're ok."
"I love you too..." she sobbed.
They were pulled apart. Renswick grasped Thomson's shoulders and pulled him out of the room. He reached out for Emi and she reached back. But their hands never connected.
The door slammed shut behind him, separating the two lovers by a physical barrier of wood.
"You can go," he heard one of the Cerberus operatives say to Emi, "Never come back or you'll be killed."
His hand went to his belt and activated his radio transmitter.

He must have been drugged. The next thing he knew he was waking up on a bed. He was strapped down by thick white ropes that draped from one side to the other. His hands were secured in place by metal cuffs that attached to the bed, trapping his wrist and forcing his hand to be flat against the material of the bed sheet.
The bed suddenly moved so it was upright. He found himself looking into the face of the Illusive Man.
"Welcome to our laboratory," the leader of Cerberus grinned, "I hope you enjoy your stay."
Thomson smiled slightly, "I hope you understand if I get a chance to I will kill every one in this room."
"Of course I do. And that is why you are secured safely on this table. You did volunteer for this."
"Only because you didn't give me a choice!"
"I gave you plenty of choice," countered the Illusive Man, "You could have let your girlfriend die and you could have walked free."
"And where's Renswick that traitorous son of a bitch?"
"He's happily on board your ship. Taken control of it since you appointed him second-in-command."
"And what of Emi?"
"The Quarian? She's fine. We sent her back to the Migrant Fleet, as was our deal. We use your mind to power the Human-Reaper, and she gets to go free."
Thomson was not scared. There was a calmness that kind of worried him. He took a deep breath. Emi was safe. She was with her own people. No matter what happened to him, she was safe. Everything was fine. It wasn't that he didn't care about himself, it was that nothing mattered more to him than she did.
He felt cold. Cold and calm. Cold, calm and collected. He knew that he should be scared. But he wasn't. Emi was fine. So he was fine. Everything was fine.
Then he saw the operatives who had threatened to torture her at the rear of the room. Anger bloomed in his stomach but he was unable to move.
His restraints retracted and he fell on the floor, surprised at the sudden lack of support to hold him on to the table.
"And before you think about trying to kill me, there are armed guards," said the Illusive Man, "It would not be smart to try anything. If you could kindly walk this way..."
Thomson began walking behind the Illusive Man and several armed Cerberus soldiers moved behind him, the muzzle of their semi-automatic rifles pushing into his back.
They started moving towards the rear of the room, where some sort of machine laid. It was roughly shaped like a coffin - white in colour - and seemed to be made of some sort of metal. There were two rotating disks that glowed blue set against the wall next to the machine.
Thomson had to do something. He might have volunteered to be a part of this experiment but he wasn't volunteering willingly. If he had a choice to do it, he wouldn't. So he had to get out of it... somehow.
He flung his arms back and a biotic shockwave took the soldiers off their feet. He spun to the Illusive Man and punched him hard in the face, before spinning back to the Cerberus soldiers.
A gun sounded and blood spurted from his knee. His leg gave way beneath him and he collapsed to the floor.
"Shit!" he cried, hands immediately going to the wound and putting pressure on it. The Cerberus soldiers kicked him in the face and he grunted.
"That wasn't clever, was it?" the Illusive Man pointed out, spitting blood at him, "What was your plan, to fight off ten guards without any weapon?"
Thomson nodded then flung a blood-stained hand to the side, his palms glowing blue. The soldiers once again were sent flying. He managed to crawl his way so he was standing on his un-injured leg, but he was promptly shot in the shoulder and hit the floor once again.
He hissed in pain and groaned. A dull, yet sharp, pain was originating in his shoulder and knee. Blood soaked his SF-2 uniform.
"Ha!" grinned one of the soldiers who had threatened to torture Emi, "He is a stupid soldier to try and fight against these odds."
They hadn't killed him.
They needed him.
He was lifted to his feet and he felt his vision go black for a moment as he struggled to keep himself conscious. He had lost a lot of blood and he desperately needed medical attention.
"We can't use him in this state," the Illusive Man pointed out, "We need to get him to the med bay."
Then his vision did go black.

The first thing he was aware of when he opened his eyes, blinking away the remainders of unconsciousness, was that his body ached. His shoulder and knee were still in pain that lingered in his mind. He couldn't ignore it. It hurt.
His eyes went to the gunshot wounds. They had healed perfectly, though there were two large holes in his uniform. He flexed his shoulder and grimaced - hurt, but usable.
"Sir," he heard a voice say, "We something on radar. Some sort of starship is inbound to our location. Their weapons are primed and... they have locked on this building with their particle cannon."
"Activate countermeasures," came the response from the Illusive Man, "Get them with the AA gun."
"Negative sir. The AA gun is not operational. I believe they just destroyed it."
"Any idea who it is?"
"Negative. They don't match any of the known Alliance vessels that are fighting the Reapers."
"Broaden the scan."
"Yes sir."
There was a loud static sound originating from the intercom system.
"For a large organisation like you," a familiar voice said, "Your systems are too easy to hack. I mean, I think I only spent a minute on it. And hey look I have control over your intercom systems and your holographic projections."
It was the teenager who he had met before he had entered the Houses of Parliament. Herring if he remembered correctly. Herring Oswild.
"And," Herring continued, "Now your electronic devices and lighting."
The lights around the room started to flicker.
"Shut up you moron," said another voice through the intercom. Doctor Lament. "Hello Cerberus!" she said cheerfully, "We're in an Alliance Frigate! And you're in a tiny little space station. So... unless you surrender to us we'll blow you to pieces."
"You don't have the firepower to blow up this station. It has shields," the Illusive Man grinned.
"... and now they're inactive," Herring pointed out, "And so are your barriers, biotic shields and electronic defence plating. You should have increased your firewalls by about ten and a half thousand percent but that's another matter entirely."
"And how did you gather the coordinates of this space station?" the Illusive Man asked, nodding towards the many people who were working on computers around the room to try and get the AA cannon back online.
"Easy. We tracked a radio signal that was activated back in London and we were listening into your conversations the entire time." Lament said.
"And what of Renswick?" the Illusive Man asked.
"Hm. Sat here in chains. Say hi Renswick!"
"Hello," Renswick said.
"As I said," Lament continued, "We were listening in. You really are silly. But I digress. Now more threats. This cannon we have here on our ship is powerful enough to rip a giant hole in your base within less than a second of sustained fire. So let Thomson out and we'll hand you Renswick and not destroy your base."
A soldier unfastened his restraints and Thomson's hands grasped his throat and twisted his head to the side sharply, there was a cracking sound and the soldier dropped, his neck broken.
He sent both the Illusive Man and the remaining soldiers flying backwards with a shockwave, and he began sprinting across the room, heading towards a small doorway at the back.
On his way he kicked up one of the semi-automatic rifles Cerberus used and caught it in his hands. He provided covering fire for himself as he ran out of the door.
"Get after him!" hissed the Illusive Man, "Initiate lockdown!"

Thomson followed the signs to the armoury. It was his first priority. He secured a breather helmet on to his head and quickly put on some his armour - which he realised was his own after a moment of putting it on - and powered up the shield generator.
"Thomson," Aquila said through the communicator built into his helmet, "If you navigate your way to the airlock we'll pick you up there. Renswick is already on board the Cerberus station. It'll be a nice and easy swap. You for him."
"Shit. That means he'll come after us. I don't know where I am. Tell Herring to bring up the base schematics... unfortunately there are no signs for the airlock."
"Will do," was the reply, "Herring get the schematics up for the Cerberus base. Or something."
"Got them," Herring said a moment later, "I'm uploading the map to your Omni-tool."
"Thanks," Thomson said. He activated the Omni-tool on his arm and a small circular map was visible. There was a small dotted line giving him the route to take.
Then an alarm sounded. A loud, wailing alarm that would have nearly deafened him if not for his helmet. Shutters slid down over the windows on the walls.
He continued down the corridor with the metal floor and stone walls. There was a little orange dot on the map that was moving along the route that he was supposed to take, which obviously indicated his position. The corridor opened up into a room and his target - the airlock - was on the far side. There was a door in his path.
But there were red dots filling the room.
"What are the red dots?" he asked.
"Uh... well I set the scanner for Cerberus soldiers and mechs. So I guess..." Herring answered.
"Fuck. Can you provide any assistance?"
"I'll see what I can do. I'll get Max to fire the particle cannon. Just get ready for a big jump."
"Roger that."
There was a gentle humming noise from outside the Cerberus station. It grew in pitch and then there was a large dissipation of energy and the door disappeared, revealing the blackness of space. He used his biotics to make sure that he wasn't sucked out.
Something struck him in the head and he was sent to the floor. Thomson dropped his rifle. He got to his feet and turned. Renswick was stood in front of him wearing a white Cerberus breather helmet.
"You bastard!" Thomson growled, "You're a traitor!"
"I know. But now it's your time to die. You have to love artificial gravity boots, right?"
Renswick swung another punch at him but he ducked underneath it and Thomson slammed his elbow into his stomach.
His friend, or ex-friend, staggered back but his armour absorbed most of the impact. Thomson was the first to launch a punch this time, but it was blocked. Renswick kicked him in the stomach and elbowed him in the helmet and he stumbled, stars flashing in front of his eyes.
Renswick tried kicking him again but he moved his hands underneath his boot and pushed it upwards, making him lose his balance. Thomson used the momentum to drive an elbow into his helmet, then dropped and sliced his leg sideways, taking out Renswick's feet from underneath him.
But he was up again in a moment, and he drew a knife. It glinted in the gentle light from a moon that hovered in the blackness many kilometres away.
Renswick sliced the knife down but Thomson grabbed his wrist so it didn't cut into his armour and potentially kill him. Their free hands locked in an attempt to either push or hit the other so they could land more strikes.
Renswick was stronger than Thomson thought and he soon felt his forearms beginning to weaken. So instead of being stabbed he slammed their helmets together, making the knife fall from Renswick's grip as he grunted in surprise. But he countered it with a punch to the side of the helmet that made Thomson fall to the floor.
When he gathered his bearings and looked back to the traitor, a knife was back in his hand. Thomson's hands quickly scrambled to the semi-automatic rifle that lay next to him. He took quick aim as Renswick raised the knife and began slamming it down towards his chest.
He fired.
Renswick's armour was torn apart by the heavy rifle and blood splashed over the wall behind them. He dropped to his knees.
"Oh," Renswick said softly, "I didn't expect that..."
His traitorous friend fell face-first on to the metal floor.
"That's for betraying me you son of a bitch," Thomson said as the SF-2 Falcon pulled alongside the ruined wall of the Cerberus base, the airlock on the side of the frigate hissing open. One of the crew members wore a breather helmet and was gesturing for him to jump across.
So he did. He sprinted and took a running jump, momentarily crossing the emptiness of space. He found himself soaring into the airlock, which shut behind him.

As the SF-2 Falcon pulled away and activated its engines, immediately increasing speed to six times the speed of light and vanishing, the Illusive Man stood over Renswick's barely-alive body. A pool of blood formed in little droplets above the gunshot wound due to the lack of gravity.
"S... Sir," Renswick managed to say, blood leaking out of the side of his mouth, "H... Help me..."
"Your body will be dead in less than three minutes," the leader of Cerberus pointed out, "But I did some neural tests of my own... We have a new body for you. Waiting inside the cargo hold. Do you accept?"
"Y... Yes..."