If Shepard had had energy to spare, she'd have contemplated shooting whoever designed this hellhole, with its ridiculously long, steeply-inclined ramp. By the time she got halfway up—and, to her distress, had lost contact with Anderson—she wondered if maybe stairs wouldn't have been a better choice. Anything with a less dramatic incline.
As she approached the room beyond, she squinted, light flooding from it. She almost missed the silhouette and terminal at the far end, facing a large observation-deck style window. "A-Anderson?"
At the far side of the room Anderson turned, pistol leveled in her direction. Upon seeing it was Shepard, he lowered the weapon. "Shit, Shepard! What happened?"
"I dunno," Shepard answered, continuing to drag herself forward, noting that, now that he wasn't holding a weapon on her, Anderson leaned on the console as if he too was hurting. Well, why wouldn't he be? "Must've passed some kind of interference. I lost you on the radio."
"Same here. Glad you're okay…" Anderson trailed off, looking her up and down as if 'okay' was not the first word that came to mind.
Shepard gave a weak laugh, aware that she felt beat to shit and probably looked it. Her lower lip split in two places, leaving the tang of copper on her tongue. "I've been worse," she assured him.
The smile dropped when she realized Anderson's posture changed as he turned and stepped away from the console. It was straighter, stiffer, his expression puzzled and more than a little concerned…like a husk.
"It doesn't work that way…" her voice shook as she took a step back, a scream rising in her throat as she half expected to see Anderson burst out in cybernetics…but that wasn't possible! You didn't get bitten by a husk and turn into one—Vega had already proved it! "Anderson?"
"Shepard…I can't…" the words came with so much effort.
"I underestimated you, Shepard," a calm, confident voice she knew too well announced. Shepard made to turn around, to draw her pistol and to let her pistol bark until the block ran out, but suddenly she found he couldn't move. A dark cloud momentarily passed over her vision, leaving her panting, but unable to move. She swallowed hard as the Illusive Man, horrifically corroded by his implants, smelling of burnt flesh, walked around her. "Am I…talking to Jack Harper…or Harbinger?" she asked, with no intention of provoking annoyance or making a joke.
"I warned you," he continued, motioning Shepard to lower her weapon. Another haze of black across her vision, a hiss of whispered commands in her ear. When her vision cleared, she had lowered her weapon obediently.
It didn't matter, she realized, cold dread filling her stomach. It legitimately didn't matter who she was talking to at this point…because one was just as bad as the other. "I see you learned a new trick," she managed.
"I warned you," the Illusive Man said, throwing up one hand as he spoke, prowling across the space. "Control, not destruction, is the means to survival. Control of the Reapers…" he glanced over his shoulder at her. "And of you, if necessary."
Anderson gave a bitter laugh. "Control? Didn't you hear Shepard? They're controlling you."
The Illusive Man sighed, as if dealing with a room full of stupid, willful children; he couldn't just shout at them, but he was beginning to find them tiresome. "I don't think so, Admiral."
"Controlling a couple of busted up humans isn't controlling a Reaper," Shepard pointed out, then laughed.
The Illusive Man considered her, then shrugged. "Have a little faith."
"How do you think I got this far?" Shepard asked. "Having a little faith…and knowing my enemy."
The Illusive Man's eyes flickered for a moment, as if seriously considering this credential. That flicker gave Shepard a frisson of hope; even Saren, at the end, had had a tiny place in his own mind that was still his, one last bastion of the principled man he used to be. It had taken effort, cunning, and a little earnest desperation to get through to him, but she had, and he'd taken care of the problem he represented himself.
If there was still some part of the Illusive Man that was Jack Harper, maybe she could find it, reach it, give it that one opportunity to act out against its masters…but she'd been in peak condition with Saren. Now, she was tired, desperately tired, wounded and using up her last reserves.
Shepard bit her lower lip as the Illusive Man spoke, regaling her and Anderson with how this was no different than turning on that first mass relay. The fears were the same, the reservations were the same…and the glorious possibilities on the other side were the same. Better.
She realized she could feel the words wriggling into her brain, trying to persuade her by force to agree. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to hear but not to listen. She needed her own mind, she needed to stay Shepard.
Even though closed eyes, the black haze swam over Shepard's vison. She knew what what was coming next.
The pistol in her hand didn't sound, merely hung level. She couldn't help but listen to the words the Illusive Man hissed into her ear, his breath warm and damp.
"…only if we can harness their ability to control."
She found she could open her mouth as her vision cleared of the black mist. She found Anderson watching her, without accusation, knowing in his heart that she was the one who was going to kill him. She started blankly at him in horror as tears slid down her cheeks, hot against cold flesh. "I'm so sorry…" she whispered.
"It's not you, girl," he answered gently, before hardening his tone, turning it's vicious edge on the Illusive Man. "That's…so much bullshit…" Anderson grated out, glowering at the Illusive Man with unmitigated hatred. "Either we destroy them, or they destroy us."
"And waste this opportunity?" the Illusive Man asked. "Never."