The Legend of Ivan (34 page)

Chapter 15: A Colossal Mistake

Archivist Cain, three weeks after the murder of Sid, stood in the highest tower of the Keritas corporate headquarters on planet Ethra as the recording he pulled from Sid's mind finished. Daylight spilled in through the full-sized windows, illuminating the enormous and lavish office. The Vice President of the company, Saul Zimmer, folded his arms as the display burst into static at Sid's death.

"Was it necessary to show all of it? I'm a very busy man. I didn't need to see you manhandle and brutalize the poor fool."

Cain turned, gesturing with his remaining hand at the damage on his body. "I wanted you to fully understand how difficult this was. I need a full repair and the return of my weapon systems." Cain held one hand against his head, which had been hurting nonstop since his fight with Sid.

"Yes, yes, whatever." The Vice President waved a hand. "I can't believe that pipsqueak Archivist gave you more trouble than Ivan did."

"Ivan
surrendered
rather than risk the well-being of those pathetic former slaves." Cain bared his teeth. "And considering how irritating he was, I'm tempted to return and blast the asteroid to fragments just for fun."

Zimmer shook his head. "No, no. There's no profit to such a waste of time and resources. Their hiding place means nothing to us."

"What about Ivan?" Cain asked, rubbing the healing puncture wounds on his chin. "Have they discovered anything yet?"

The Vice President of Keritas bared his teeth. "Some. Not enough to piece together the system those idiots Calloway and Trevors used before he smashed their heads and the records, but they're getting closer."

"Trevors couldn't help?"

"Not so far." Zimmer shrugged. "Surprised as I was to find out he's been scurrying around our tunnels for so many years, I don't know if he'll be able to contribute. His brains are so scrambled from the trauma and years of malnutrition. The doctors are going to try some procedures to see if they can bring something of him back, but I don't have much hope for it. And Calloway... we sent him off to parts unknown. He's long gone."

Cain clanged a fist off of his metal chest. "I don't see why advanced bone density and muscle improvement is better than full mechanics."

"Hah!" Zimmer laughed, throwing a gesture at the damaged Archivist. "You're living proof, you moron! And don't think for one second Ivan couldn't peel off each layer of your metallic hide and eat the shavings for breakfast. You got him because of his idiotic compassion. Besides," he jabbed a finger into Cain's chest, "you think there's a market for people, even soldiers, wanting to be a freak like you? How about they be just as strong and fast, nearly as indestructible, and still as pretty as the day their mothers expelled them? Which one do you think they'll go for?"

The Archivist didn't respond, accustomed to his main employer's surly attitude. Zimmer continued his rant about the advantages of human appearance with unbelievable quality of augmentation. "Even the anti-aug idiots on the rim don't know the difference until their skulls decorate the wallpaper!"

Cain felt a twinge behind his left eye, the one not damaged in his fight, and he frowned. An image suddenly came to mind of Zimmer smashing through the glass, shocked and terrified as he plummeted out of sight.

"Oh what's the matter?" Zimmer said in a mock-worried tone. "Did I hurt the robot's feelings? Pah."

Still frowning, Cain ignored the insult. "So what are you going to do with Ivan? It's not like you can keep him locked up forever." Even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, Cain didn't understand why he said them.

Zimmer's face screwed up in a mixture of appall, condescension, and amusement. "What, are you serious? Did the itty-bitty Archivist you smashed up ring your bell too hard? Tell me: why can't I leave that hulking brute locked in his cell with tubes in every orifice until the universe explodes? Who's going to stop me?" He gave a sharp laugh. "Cain, one of these days I'm going to have to replace you with one of those
smart
Archivists. You're halfway useful in target retrieval, but you're so
thick
sometimes."

Cain pressed a fingertip to the side of his head. "Sorry, sir. It's the... it's the others. I didn't realize Sid had taken another Archivist so soon, and their memories and thoughts are still not integrated."

"
Well
," the other man said without a trace of pity, "here's hoping you'll leech a little of their brain power and become useful for a change. Anyway," he waved it aside, "I've got your repairs scheduled. Who knew a few hours of work could cost me several hundred thousand..."

The Archivist's mind buzzed with the presence of too many thoughts, some of them he couldn't identify as his own. Zimmer continued on his next rant about how much Cain's maintenance and functions cost against the tiny gains from the half-wit machine. Cain again saw in his mind the bloodied Vice President sailing into daylight with the trickle of broken glass behind him.

Do it.
Cain gave a start, hearing a voice in his mind, impish and feminine in quality. A tittering laugh followed. The Archivist shook his head, trying to clear it.

"
Stop talking,
" the Archivist said, hissing through his teeth. Mercifully, his employer ceased ranting and finally favored him with a tiny bit of concern.

"Boy, the pipsqueak actually did a pretty solid number on you, didn't he? We should get you-"

Cain's mind vanished into a sea of memories. He saw again the fight between Sid and Dana, every whirling motion and the threading on their clothing clear and crisp. He watched Sid's conversation with Dr. Trevors, the now-dead Archivist not realizing how much subtle truth laid beyond the mindless ranting.

The images disappeared, and Cain found himself walking down the hallway outside of the Vice President's office. Zimmer was leading him to the lift. "What the-" Cain stopped, glancing around. "How did I-"

Again his thoughts drifted off, memories of his ship- no, Sid's ship- Minerva. Countless hours spent flinging messages back and forth as well as non-interfaced research while skimming across the endless void of space.

His sight returned to find himself walking down a corridor in some other portion of the Keritas Headquarters. The style had shifted from the warm carpet and artwork of the offices to a sterile white of research and medical. "Repairs," Cain murmured. His imposing size, appearance, and damaged form drew startled looks from some individuals in white coats, but he continued walking...

Another memory: He was- no, it was someone else again -walking down a similar corridor in a hospital gown. One metallic leg clicked upon the tile, but a bare human foot plodded opposite. The same was true of his arm; one was mechanical and one was flesh. The man reached up and touched his face, feeling the metal plate, and he screamed...

Cain found himself seated on a table, a robotics specialist glancing over him. "We should be able to get your damaged parts fixed right away, but we'll have to reinstall your arsenal in stages. Gotta make sure the energy balance is okay."

Archivist Cain shook his head. "Never mind the repairs," he said, gasping for breath. "There's something wrong with my-"

Cain's own memories rushed forward. The whirlwind of bodies flying and breaking within the bar at the shipyard. Sid had escaped out of the entrance as the stench of ripe workers pressed in all around, but Cain only knew the joys of battle and causing pain. Sid would be caught eventually, and his fate would be no more pleasant than the unfortunate laborers who were crushed under Cain's might.

Blood covered Cain's hands as his thoughts returned to reality. He stood within the same lab, but everything was damaged and broken. "Hands?" he asked, staring at them. Both eyes functioned, both of his limbs were intact, repaired, but the robotics specialist lay dead at the Archivist's feet. The man's mouth twisted in an agonized, eternal scream, and terrified eyes stared into nothing.

Fear trickled into Cain's heart. "What's happening to me?" he whispered, noticing blaring alarms resounding all around him.

Again, his awareness disappeared as memories flooded forth:

Klaxons blasted and red light flashed as a flesh and blood man sprinted through the corridors, heavy boots thudding against the deck. Flanked by a few comrades, the man who would eventually be a new variety of Archivist carried a flechette rifle.

The ship he served upon, the Nicaea, shuddered against the impact of another boarding craft. Aside from intruders on every deck, the destroyer-class vessel had been torn apart by an ambush from unknown forces. The man who would become Cain, eventually sadistic and brutal in attitude, feared his end was near.

A breaching charge exploded down the corridor, and he and his fellow soldiers opened fire. Razor clouds shredded through the new opening, and screams resulted as they tore through the flesh of the intruders.

Scattered energy fire issued from the end of the smoky corridor, and two of the man's comrades fell to lethal shots. Screaming, he fired again and again...

Cain flashed away from his past back to reality, but it felt like a memory instead, as he couldn't control his actions. His metal hands pounded against a wall, breaking through the material...

Back again to the battle aboard the destroyer, Cain felt an energy pulse sever the sensation below his midsection. Artificial gravity had failed on the dying ship, and crusted bits of the cauterized flesh drifted up in front of his eyes. Still he fought on, making the boarding party pay for every inch.

His now metallic hands smashed through a console and ripped apart a door. An enormous man stood waiting, surprised by Cain's entrance. Cain heard his own voice, deep though not holding its accustomed malevolence. "I have him under control, and I'm gaining ground with each step, but we still need to hurry."

The losing battle aboard the Nicaea returned, and the man who would be Cain floated through the corridors. Every movement in the shadows was greeted with a blast from his flechette rifle, and he kept conscious only through stimulant and three packs of medical gel slathered into the hole of his lower torso...

His metal hands gripped the collar of a familiar man. The Vice President, Zimmer, held a terrified expression veiled by blood and bruises. Cain watched, unable to stop himself, as he gripped the man and hurled him to the window...

The last memory sprang to the forefront of his mind. Trapped in an airlock and still gravely wounded. Not enough air to survive long, and the freezing death of vacuum seeping in as the Nicaea's lifeless husk drifted. Eternities passed as he floated at the edge of death. He remained.

He remained.

******

"There," I said as the former Vice President dropped out of sight. The carpet of his massive office was stained with blood, and bits of broken glass lay near the yawning hole in the window. "I have Cain locked away in the memory of his death."

Ivan's eyes were wide. He stood near the doorway, watching the carnage unfold. "Sid... you are truly a marvel, my friend. I can hardly believe it is you in that brute..." He pointed to the window. "Even so, did you need to kill that man?"

I shot my gaze back to him, gritting my teeth. "Cain's disposition is brash, aggressive. It's hard to hold his instincts in check, and my own personality is still struggling to take hold."

"I still cannot fathom you being alive. He showed me your severed head when he took me prisoner." Ivan appeared tense, ready for a fight. It was understandable; I was wearing Cain's body, my body now. Even without retaining the cruelty of his nature, Cain's/my appearance was more than unfriendly.

Dana's laughing voice swirled in my thoughts. The weaker and less refined will of Cain was suppressed within his memories, and I'd eventually try to peel him apart bit by bit until as little remained as possible. Still, I was in his mind with all of his memories. I'd been chipping away during the weeks, establishing footholds but never pushing outright as Dana did.

"I succeeded where she failed," I said, speaking to no one.

"Who?"

I looked at Ivan. Cain's enhanced ocular scanning revealed the marvel of his structure to me. Fortunately, the rudimentary repairs of Cain's limb and eye had been completed before I made my move.

Ivan was amazing. Every muscle, bone, sinew, joint: reinforced and tightened to a spring coil. Potential energy practically burst from his flesh. Yet he stood, innocuous and worried as alarms continued to blare. It was little wonder that Keritas had wanted him back. They sought to rediscover the methods and process of his impressive augmentation.

"No one," I answered his question, flexing my own limbs, feeling the power I held in my new body. "You need to get out, or they might capture you again." I closed my eyes, trying to sift through a flurry of images. "I can't quite see from his memories; is your ship... is Olga here?"

Ivan nodded. "You... he brought a large vessel and had me dock her on board when he took me captive. I believe they brought it over to their hangar."

"Get over there right away."

The large man, still dwarfing my increased bulk, grasped my shoulder. "You must come with me."

I flashed a grin, hoping it was less sinister than Cain usually provided. "I'll catch up, but first I have to destroy their records and anything else on you and their project. If they still have data on your augmentations, they'll keep coming for you. I don't wish for that to happen any more than you do."

Ivan seemed hesitant, frowning.

"You've led quite a life, Ivan." I set a hand upon his shoulder. "It would be a shame for it to come to an end."

He sighed, his usual tinge of sorrow and regret coming forward. "Quite a life... heh. I suppose. I will continue on, for Olga if nothing else." He disappeared out the door.