The Legend of Ivan (28 page)

"Athena wants her revenge, Sid, but if you run, Mercury will have his way with your favorite hidey-hole." Laughter issued from the comm. "Choose the destroyer and the destroyed, Sid."

Grimacing, I didn't reply.

"What a terrible choice you have! Even an Archivist still has feelings for other people, places, does he not?" Mock pity filled Cain's voice. "Or is there nothing left to us but research, information, and more data?"

I contemplated the decision. It was true; I harbored some level of attachment to Dei Lucrii XVII. But... I was on the investigation of my life. Nothing, before or after my alteration procedure, none of the many successful conquests of data in my existence compared to the search of Ivan.

Even without such heavy purpose on my path, self-preservation was a close-second to information. Since nothing could be gained from staying except my demise, and feeding Cain with everything I knew was not something I could accept, I had to leave. I felt Dana's ghost trickle through my thoughts again, and even she seemed to agree.

The station shuddered again. "I'm beginning to think you're rude, Sid." Cain's tone rang with malevolence. "I can always bring the station down around your ears and recover your corpse later. It won't be as fun to scoop out your cold and squishy brain-matter than if you were still partly conscious, but I do have a job to do." Another shudder. "Business before pleasure."

A terrified voice cut in from the station. "Do as he asks! Good God, man, you can't just let us all die in here!"

My decision was already made, and in no way could I have ever justified the self-sacrifice. "I'm sorry, Marqyni," I whispered, preparing to engage full thrust.

Both the station and Minerva shuddered with a wave of displaced force. Preoccupied, I thought Cain had fired something with more punch. In the ensuing moment of silence, I didn't even consider it as the product of a large vessel arriving.

My ignorance was short-lived as a broadband override played through the intercom, cutting out all other communication. "This is Captain Josef Onnels of the GCG vessel Cassander. All hostile activities in this region will cease immediately, and all participants will power down weapon systems and prepare to be boarded. System travel is now considered restricted. Archivist Sid of the vessel Minerva is being hereby placed under arrest for the possession of materials sensitive to Galactic Central Government security. Any attempt to deviate from specific instructions will result in immediate hostile action."

I punched my accelerator, my decision all the easier now that the Cassander was in-system to protect the station. Though its fighters would be swarming in a matter of minutes, I had plenty of time to escape both of my apparent pursuers. Cain's ship, far too slow to continue threatening and bombardment, would have to start fleeing immediately. Even then, it was possible he wouldn't escape. At the very least; he'd have to burn his drones distracting the wave of fighters from the Cassander.

Already out of the bay, I pinged the location of the Cassander and set my tail to it and Cain's gunship at full speed. The communication override ceased, and I could hear Cain cursing and Onnels ordering me to stop through different channels. I cut out the intercom.

As I sped out of detectable range, a wave of regret and sorrow flowed through me, the most powerful emotion I could remember feeling since my transformation. I betrayed Dei Lucii: my home, and Marqyni: my friend. Nothing negative happened, but my decision to leave them made no difference. I reeled against the intensity of these thoughts, my rationality flailing against them. The presence of this extreme emotion was as disconcerting as the feelings themselves.

In an action I had not experienced ever before as an Archivist, tears flooded into my organic eye. I felt such potent strain, and I had no idea where it was coming from.

Casting aside the emotion, I tried to force calm composure and again focus on the task. It was possible I'd never be welcome to return to my one place of rest and comfort. It was also possible I wouldn't survive the next week. The search was nearly over.

I tried to maintain a calm and serene status, but the guilt at my actions continued to bubble to the surface. Never before had emotions been so profound, and I became worried that something was wrong.

Archivist Sid

Assignment:

Seeking information regarding the truth and whereabouts of Ivan.

Location:

Dei Lucrii XVII

Report:

Discovered location of Ivan.

Probability
:

n/a

Summary:

Research yielded no useful data; location provided by tip [source: Traverian Grey]. Dei Lucrii attacked by Cain. Cassander arrived in pursuit of assigned Archivist [Sid]. Likely seeking leaked information regarding Atropos Garden and Ivan.

*Addendum: Please exert influence to hinder progress of GSA in Ivan investigation.

**Second Addendum: Inescapable Cain encounter sometime in near future. Survival improbable without assistance or upgrade.

Chapter 12: The Man, the Myth

The recent encounter continued to trouble me as I passed into the asteroid field. Full concentration would have been preferable, as the flexible flight path only corrected for small to medium sized obstacles. However, the rising number of competitors and my recent actions left me preoccupied.

I didn't bother to check, but there was certain to be a flurry of news and gossip relating to the recent assault and lockdown of the Dei Lucrii XVII system. For certain, Daedra-Tech would be displeased about having my name attached to both their own and a fugitive status. However, losing the lead in the Ivan pursuit would likely have upset them more. They'd be able to handle the bad press and even get the Cassander to back off.

Either way, I didn't hold excessive loyalty. They provided the means to perpetuation, as there would always be secrets to pursue for a massive-sized corporation. Still, I had no reason not to fulfill my contract.

In spite of the time taken, my flailing internal state remained mired in guilt. No amount of rationalization or the anticipation of finishing my task could scrub it away, and I could detect no immediate issues with my internal hardware. Yet it persisted, a seed of obsession in my mind. The best I could do was continue on and hope it did not distract me.

A hailing blip appeared on my screen as I swooped by another asteroid. "Vessel Minerva, this is Vapaus Colony. We are tracking your approach." A calm voice came through. "Stand by for docking instructions."

It seemed Grey's warning had gone through; they were expecting me.

I cleared another large obstacle, and my eyes and the coordinates confirmed my arrival.

The asteroid which housed the colony appeared miles long, massive and appearing immobile against the consistent scattering of its smaller brothers. Tiny structures dotted some of the rocky surface, mostly metallic plates, and I suspected most of its infrastructure would be inside.

Warnings resounded in my cockpit as several defense mechanisms targeted my position. A precaution, I hoped.

The landing continued without any vaporization, but I wondered if a loud argument in the control center debated the pros and cons of such an action. Sets of heavy steel docking bay doors opened in one of the regions of the asteroid. They directed me to it and allowed my entrance, the doors sealing shut behind me. Dim lighting was strung around the area, and a short walkway led to a building. Not an inch of rock was seen; the whole interior section appeared to be encased in metal.

Once my ship touched down, a door opened in the structure, and several people carrying weaponry and clad in light ballistic armor spilled out. My instruments shone green for atmosphere, so I slipped out of my seat and opened the hatch.

No one spoke a word as I set foot on the docking platform. Fourteen individuals appearing as soldiers trained weaponry upon me. The deck had an inconsistent vibration, not quite a tremor, as the smaller asteroids outside occasionally nudged the larger one.

I stood, waiting with my arms folded.

Out of the building walked a man dressed in similar ballistic armor with various symbols and insignias etched upon it. A stern expression and sharp features gave the unmistakable air of authority, and he was flanked by two additional guards, these more heavily armed and armored.

"I am Security Chief Pallum Bethel." The man spoke with a hard edge. "I am also the acting governor of Vapaus Colony." He pointed at me. "You are Archivist Sid, and you are not entirely welcome in this place."

I said nothing, keeping my arms folded and favoring the leader with a blank expression.

"It is only by the request of a
very
important individual that I grant you sanctuary in this place. However, your leash will be extremely short, and any action construed as against the well being of Vapaus Colony will see you locked in a very dark place for a very long time. Your business here will be brief, and all records of our location will be purged from your navigation systems once this debacle is finished." He leveled his gaze at me. "Do I make myself clear?"

I still didn't speak, restraining myself from rolling my eyes and diving deep into condescension.

"You
will
answer me, Archivist, or you'll be sent on your way without hesitation."

Sighing, I swept my hat off and replied, "Let's move beyond the tired posturing. I represent very little threat to your miserable way of existence. I'm here for a specific purpose, and once done, I have no further need to remain."

Glaring angrily, he opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand. "Very obviously, I've been granted particular courtesies you are not fond of. Your threats are hollow because someone higher than you wishes this to occur. I hold no particular ill toward you or this place, but I will provide you with similar courtesy should you decide to continue this foolish hostile attitude."

I absolutely love being a guest of importance. The less I have to deal with the careful wordplay associated with causing no offense, the better. A frank attitude is nearly always more efficient.

Chief Bethel tightened the thin line of his lips. I could see he wanted to cause issue in some fashion by yelling, sending me away, or locking me up. Marvel of marvels, he turned on his heel. He gave a sharp hand motion. "Follow me."

Flanked by and trailing the entourage of armed individuals, I obeyed. For fifteen minutes, we crossed through numerous bland corridors. The acting Governor and Security Chief moved in silence, irritation fixed upon his features.

We stopped moving in a long hallway lined with heavy-security doors. Bethel turned to me. "Your assessment, though arrogant and flippant, was correct." He raised his chin. "If it were up to me, I'd have you and your ship harvested for useable parts before discarding the rest. We take care of our own here, and only one person has received the freedom to come and go as he pleases."

I had an inkling toward who it might have been, but I sensed my new friend would be upset if I interrupted him. His self-important air annoyed me, but I didn't feel like having him shout at me for several minutes before the conversation progressed.

Seeing no reaction from me, Bethel continued. "However, others are hoping, foolishly in my opinion, that you will not bring death from the galaxy upon us. They believe you should be happy, merry, cheerful, and able to gallivant about without a care as to how it may affect our way of life."

He grit his teeth. "What we arrived at was a fair compromise. You are about to embark upon a mandatory tour of this facility, our prison-turned-home. They are hoping you will gather an appreciation for it. A sympathy. I have my doubts, but I also retain no ability to prevent your stay and meeting with our important individual."

"However," Bethel held up a finger. "If you should give me the slightest reason to mistrust or dislike you, I can make absolutely certain that all conversation takes place under the least comfortable circumstances. Do you understand me?"

If only for the sake of expedience, I nodded.

Bethel made a hand motion, and all of the soldiers save his pair of guards departed. He turned to me. "You may consider our current way of life to be one of misery and lack of civilization, but I assure you: it is infinitely better than the degradation and horror of our lives as forced laborers."

"You have my greatest sympathy," I replied. With a wary eye, he searched my expression for any sign of sarcasm or irony, but he discovered none. I didn't gush, but there was at least a little sincerity behind my statement.

The security chief continued. "Where you are standing right now is one of the many prison wards." He opened one of the doors and gestured. "Laborers in training are kept here, isolated."

The room appeared cramped. A tiny bed, toilet, and sink were in close proximity, and empty floor space was close to nonexistent. A flickering recessed light provided a source of variability, entertainment, or more likely madness. "Countless hours are spent in silence and solitude. Simple meals and constant punishments are found during the period of training."

Without waiting for me to respond, he moved on. Through dozens more hallways very similar, I gathered the facility housed a very large number. Considering the size of the asteroid, the number could have ranged into the tens of thousands, depending upon how much interior was taken up.

He stopped in a different corridor. The doors were the same security style, but they were further apart, each room at least three times as large. "This is a training ward. Every room," he palmed the door, "contains equipment to precisely condition a subject to perform specific menial tasks at peak efficiency."

Inside lay what appeared to be fragile materials and common household items. Cleaning implements were stacked on a shelf, and cameras and monitoring equipment were embedded in the walls. "For cleaners: dust particles, amount of pressure utilized upon various fragile and non-fragile items, amount of cleaning product expended, and numerous other facets are recorded. Requirements of each and being as close to perfection as possible is hammered into every fiber of their being. Each day brings different items and review. Improvement is expected. If there is no improvement, punishment is exacted."