Part 2

Anderson cursed, his hands still hovering over the trace command buttons on his console. In response, the other man removed his outer coat, revealing a close-fitting undershirt and bare, toned arms.

"See? Nothing to it."

Inexplicably, the heat rose in Anderson's cheeks. He scowled. "I don't see why I'd do that."

The man known as T.I.M. pulled cigar case from his pocket and lifted a long smoke to his lips. He pursed his lips and took his time lighting the long object in his mouth. He looked at Anderson, and then deliberately took a deep, satisfying pull, sucking slowly on the filter.

Anderson felt somehow hypnotized by the action. Something about the way the man's hands moved, and his eyes… Anderson shook himself mentally. He pulled at the collar of his uniform, feeling uncomfortably warm. But those eyes… The Illusive Man was looking at him expectantly.

Anderson glared. But reluctantly, he removed the outer jacket of his Councilor's uniform.

"There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"What do you want, Illusive Man?"

"I am a man who likes, power, Counselor. One could say that in my profession, I have a lot of it."

"Power that you abuse. It's because of people like you and your illicit organization that gives humans a bad name in the galaxy."

"Every species has its pros and its cons, Councilor. And contrary to your beliefs, my organization and I represent the best of what humanity has to offer. Humanity free of Council constraints. Humanity as our species was destined to me. Humanity in all its glory: ambitions and creativity and imagination at its best."

"And what kind of humanity would that really be? A society of thieves and criminals. A society without morals or ethics. What makes you think I would ever want to collaborate with you ?"

The holographic T.I.M. steepled his fingers. "I meet so few people of rare privilege like yourself, Counselor. Men of character. Men with integrity. My day to day is filled with the unsatisfactory buzz of subordinate, and, shall we say, lesser, men."

Anderson grunted and glanced at the tracer timer. One minute and twenty five seconds. He decided to stall. "I'll admit I could return the 'compliment'. I don't meet men such as yourself every day, either."

T.I.M. leaned forward in his chair. "I answer to no one, Counselor. No man, no entity. No directives but my own." T.I.M. sighed. He lifted his unsettling blue eyes and focused intently on Anderson. T.I.M. took another deep throated pull from his cigar, then dropped his hand and let the smoke dangle carelessly from his fingers. His lips pursed together. His expression was both thoughtful and desirous.

Something in the gravity well just changed, thought Anderson. He suddenly had trouble breathing.

"I grow tired of my role, Councilor. I need a change. I want to experience power, not just wield it. To feel the utter and complete control of another. To know that there is another force driving… behind me."

Anderson blanched. "I… I don't understand what you're saying."

"I would very much like to spend time... under your command, Councilor."

"That's preposterous!" Anderson exclaimed. "What kind of game are you playing, Illusive Man? I'm warning you. You'll pay for your crimes."

"And would you be personally ensuring my... punishment?"

Anderson could feel the heat rising to his ears. "Of course."

T.I.M. laughed as he glanced down at his timer. "Almost two minutes. I think I'll indulge you this time, Councilor."

The holographic man stood from his chair, rising gracefully. He moved towards Anderson, his shoulders and hips moving in alternating unison, like a tiger stalking prey. The hologram stopped just inches from Anderson's face.

T.I.M. raised his arm and took another long, slow pull from his cigar. His cheeks puffed in and out with deliberate effort. "Meet me in the Zakera Wards at the address I just sent to your terminal. Tomorrow evening at 20:00. Come alone and I'll give you your opportunity to... take me in."

Anderson bite his lip. T.I.M. smiled.

"Tomorrow, Councilor. Alone." The hologram hit the communicator button on his terminal and vanished.

Anderson gulped, his breathe coming in short, tense gasps. He glanced down at the tracer route on his terminal. Damn. The IP address had come from Anderson's own console.