survived couldn’t explain much besides the meat grinder of Ivan tearing through them.”
“And you?” I asked. “What business and fascination drew you to this great conspiracy?” A small amount of mockery lay in my tone.
The man threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, my my, he hasn’t figured it out. Isn’t it obvious?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I’m Dr. Trevors, of course, and I saw the whole damn thing from conception to cover-up.” He puffed out his chest, posturing an air of importance. “I knew those itty-bitty pea shooters they had wouldn’t do a blessed thing to Ivan. I saw in the testing what he could do. I knew they wouldn’t stop him, and I wasn’t even going to try. Even so, he gave me a few lumps too, just for being there. I was lucky he didn’t kill me.”
Skeptical, I said, “Yet you weren’t shipped out along with Calloway.”
He grinned, again revealing the hideous, rotten teeth. “I didn’t let them find me. I’ve been hiding, waiting, trying to dig up the proof I need to blow this whole thing wide open.”
“Indeed,” I replied, turning towards the ladder. “Well. I appreciate your time, Dr. Trevors,” I said with hints of sarcasm.
The grin widened, and I could barely keep from grimacing at the sight. “Oh, my pleasure. You just make sure the right people hear about this, okay?” The smile faded. “It’s important that people know the truth about Ivan. Keritas has to be held accountable for all the things he’s done since they let him escape.”
Gripping the ladder, I said, “Thanks again,” and started to climb.
I glanced back down, remembering a small detail, “One last thing,” he raised an eyebrow, “you mentioned that the reactor was code-named OLGA but never elaborated.”
“Didn’t I?” He scratched his nose as I shook my head. “Oh. Well, it wasn’t really important. It was something like Onboard Logistics Generator Array, or something like that. I don’t really remember.”
I nodded. “Very well, thank you again.”
As I lifted the hatchway that lead into the alley, I saw him plugging a tap into the data lines, keying in his neural link.
He looked up at me. “You gotta tell the people, man. The Garden’s gotta be avenged.” His eyes went blank, and he lost himself in the stream of information. I slipped through the hatch.
After squeezing through the tight gap between buildings, I walked back to the port and settled into my vessel Minerva. I gave a moment’s consideration to my next destination, and I was on my way shortly after.
Direct inquiry with Keritas suggested some information archived about Ivan [Afanasi Sergeyevich Lukyanov]. Suggestions about conspiracy from the contact [Dr. Trevors?] most likely fabricated via hallucination/paranoia/brain damage. Ivan’s rumored physical prowess suggests something more simple: he utilized Keritas services for an augmentation [strength, speed, sensory] package. Unit’s inquiry with company most probably rejected due to confidentiality agreement with Keritas clients. Dangerous incident or cover up doubtful.
Chapter 4: Archivist
Few details seemed to be gained from my time on Ethra, but I was encouraged because the stop only lasted a couple of hours. My contact with the alleged Dr. Trevors, though unpleasant and a bit rambling, was still useful enough to justify the time expenditure. The truth of his tale was doubtful, but at least I was not inconvenienced.
Further yet towards the core I traveled, seeking more balanced worlds industry-wise. Though corporations own and handle a great deal of business, too much secrecy and doubt is found on their home worlds. It becomes hard to search for information when individuals guard their tongues.
I made two more stops, and both were riddled with complete and utter unimportance. A local city magistrate on Gaheena had claimed Ivan as his bodyguard a number of years back. It took all of five minutes to pick his tale apart and get him to admit he’d only hired some random mercenary and called the man Ivan in an effort to intimidate his rivals.
Another contact had passed away the week before I arrived: a veteran fighter pilot from a prominent battle which Ivan was allegedly involved in. However, the grieving family denied any knowledge of their mother seeing or meeting anyone such as Ivan. The mere conjecture that it was anything but the bravery of soldiers like their mother which turned the tide of battle, instead of the actions of some legendary figure, seemed to offend them gravely.
I was followed by a brash youth from the family out to Minerva as I prepared to leave. A small conflict ensued, but no one was harmed. A dose of tranquilizer ensured the child would wake up later with little more than a headache while I moved along to my next destination.
If I have any home in the universe, aside from Minerva, it is upon the Dei Lucrii Commerce Station XVII, orbiting the gas giant Paradoth. Unlike many of the small colonies and metropolitan worlds, average social class and occupation is less solidified on this and other stations of its kind. A steady gradient of population from dirt poor to obscene wealth, including accommodations spanning the entire range, has proven a vast and deep reservoir of varied information.
The Dei Lucrii stations are found in many places, most often in systems with no colonizable worlds. To facilitate the ever-expanding population and desire for a greater density of habitable space, hundreds of orbital stations were created. From trade and commerce to accommodation and pleasure to defense and warning, many different varieties of stations exist. Dei Lucrii is one of relaxed trade and commerce.
I am well known on Dei Lucrii XVII. Its location is central and accessible but not so perfect as to attract too many others of my kind. I have friends, allies, and contacts there. I am through often enough to know many of the security staff by name and friendly enough with them to receive proper warnings if it becomes necessary.
Minerva put into the docking bay without incident. I donned my usual cloak and hat as I walked in and among the milling passengers.
“Sid, good to have you back,” a security woman smiled as I passed through the checkpoint.
I gave her a nod. “Officer Tani.”
She swiped my identity card through the scanner. “You going to be staying long?”
“Not terribly,” I replied. “A bit of business before I continue on.”
“Anything exciting?”
I smiled. “Always.”
Laughing, she said, “Enjoy your stay, Sid.”
Through the checkpoint I moved, nodding to a couple of other on-duty personnel as well as some of the small shop owners. Like any other transport hub, last or first minute drinks, food, or impulse trinkets were available for purchase.
Without delay, I moved through the station, passing through elevators and very similar corridors until I arrived at my intended destination: the library.
Though paper books died out long ago, commissioned libraries have retained their purpose as storehouses of varied information. Nostalgia kept the traditional style of row upon row of what appeared to be shelves. However, they were actually monolithic storage units accessible from the dozens of links and terminals available. This library was named by the proprietor as Bibliotheca Dei Lucrii XVII, which few recognized as a bit of an homage to Old Earth’s Great Library at Alexandria. The proprietor loved ancient history.
