Breaking Point

Chapter 3: Machiavelli's Prince

It was like seeing a ghost.  At two hundred fifty three centimeters, it was a very large, muscular ghost with long, stringy white hair and jet black armor.  Both of his eyes were synthetic, one blue and one red, different from the last time Zaid saw him.

At the mere sight of him, Zaid's blood boiled.  Memories of death and destruction flooded his mind.  His allies losing their wills to Draygon's.  Watching them kill each other, and then themselves.  Zaid had been powerless to stop it.  Memories of a grueling fight.  While Draygon didn't quite match Zaid's size or raw strength, he had made up for it with skill and psychology, inducing Zaid to make mistake after mistake, punishing him with crippling counter moves.  In a final act of superiority, Draygon had let Zaid impale him through the stomach, only for Draygon to laugh it off, pull out the metal bar and stab Zaid through the chest with it.

It took everything Zaid had not to blindly charge at Draygon.

"I see you've chosen to accept my gift.  A wise decision indeed," said Draygon.

Zaid scoffed angrily.  "We're not talking about this.  I just want to know what it's going to take before I can kill you properly."

"Interestingly enough," said Draygon, "That's exactly what I want to know.  You see, Alan, I'm under the impression that you and I were actually created to be immortal.  You've survived mortal wounds.  I've survived mortal wounds.  You've survived your entire thermal mass being sucked out by a Cryogalvanate.  I survived the cold vacuum of space without a pressure suit, followed by the intense forces of a Space Fountain accelerator.  See, if you were to rip off my head and piss down my neck, as you've threatened to, I'm certain I would just grow a new head within a few hours.  I'm not sure about the piss bit, though.  Seems a bit gratuitous."

"Shut up.  Just tell me what you want."

Draygon chuckled. "No fun at all.  Straight to the point then.  I'm sending you to asteroid 10 Hygiea.  I've got information that whatever made 'us' started from experiments in the laboratories in its depths.  The United Earth council wants what's there.  I'm sure your experience with a certain Polymer would suggest that if they want information of that nature, that can only be a bad thing.  I'd go myself but I'm far too busy being dead and all and trying to maintain my little empire from the shadows.  Beside, I think you'd be far more interested in the information yourself."

"And how do I get back for my chance to kill you?"

A devious smile crossed Draygon's lips.  "That's all for you to figure out.  Oh, and your ride's here in three . . . two . . . one . . ."

Zaid felt his hips dislocate as he was pulled into the air by his feet, suddenly thrust sideways at what seemed like hundreds of kilometers per hour.  After the initial shock wore off he popped his hips back into place and looked around.  He was being pulled into the cargo bay of what looked like a passenger jet, with another smaller jet attached to the top.

Once he was past the threshold, the cargo bay door closed.  Zaid undid the loop from around his feet.  Next to the tow cable reel was a table loaded with sandwiches, with a sign that read "Eat, Drink and Be Merry, for tomorrow we die."

"Bastard," Zaid thought aloud.  "Ten steps ahead of everything as usual.  He's controlling every move."  He paced the floor in front of the food table.  "You think you can control me?  YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN CONTROL ME?" I CAN'T EVEN CONTROL ME!"  In his fury he flipped the food table over.  "Bet you didn't see THAT coming, did you?"

On the underside of the overturned table was another sign.   "You flipped the table.  How predictable."

Zaid roared, louder and longer than is humanly possible.

He can't directly control me mind to mind, but he can still control me.  He doesn't have to use his psychic powers to get in my head, because he's already there.  I don't know how to get him out.  He's probably got contingencies for everything.  I bet even if I learn how to properly kill him, he's still getting everything he wants.

Might as well actually get something I want.  He remembered his stomach, which growled and gurgled.  "And then when I lose control, I don't even get what I want." He started reassembling sandwiches which had all fallen apart when the table flipped, eating them in a single bite each until all of them were gone.

Draygon's voice came over a public announcement system.  "If you're all done gorging yourself like the animal you are, there's a set of armor fitted to you on the passenger deck.  Suit up and get to the space capsule on top.  That's your ride.  And if you don't, this aircraft is programmed to crash into an occupied high rise unless all the sensor readings show that you've taken off.  There are no manual controls.  I'd advise against just destroying the plane, but I think you're more worried about whatever it is United Earth is researching up there than you are defiant.  Tick tock, Zaid, the clock is ticking."

Zaid's mind flashed back to 21 Lutecia.  The Morphic Polymer.  If the United Earth council was willing to imprison me over destroying their research that could have started an apocalypse, maybe Draygon is right; this one could be worse.

"You and I, we're the same."  I keep saying we can't be, but I end up doing everything he predicted, and says it's because he would have done.  Maybe he's right.  And I hate him even more for it.

After relieving himself in lavatory, Zaid found the entrance to the Space Capsule and the armor he was promised.  The armor was jet black, to match the set Draygon was wearing.  A low blow.  More of this "we're the same" spit.  Maybe it's a coincidence and it's utilitarian, but I think it's just more manipulation.

This all reminds me of something Jesim said about him.  That he reminded him of some Prince guy from classic literature.  Book by someone named, what Michelangelo? Montezuma? Machiavelli?  Yeah, that's it.  Machiavelli.  The ends justify the means.  Turn everyone else against each other and they'll all thank you for opening their eyes.  Stab someone in the back then hand the knife to their best friend.  Stir up and instigate conflict, but don't look like the one who started the conflict.  The Prince has nothing on Draygon.  The man plays people like chess pieces, every last king doomed to checkmate, even his enemies acting as his queens, every last one of them sacrificed to his end game.  And at least the ones who are mind controlled don't get to blame themselves for what they do.

The armor fit securely.  Interlocking plates with bearings allowing for full freedom of movement without any gaps.

Is this plane really going to crash itself if I don't get off on that space capsule?  Or worse, is it going to crash itself anyway?  I don't know.  There's no way to know.  Draygon's a liar through and through.  And my task.  Am I being lied to about that as well?  Of course I am.  Maybe the information is accurate, but the motivations are pure lies.  I know I can't trust anyone or anything, but I also can't go back.

Zaid strapped himself into the cockpit of the Space Capsule and closed his eyes to rest, barely stirring when the capsule blasted off from the airplane's roof.  Forty two minutes until it reached the orbital acceleration gates which would slingshot him from Earth past Mars to 10 Hygiea in a matter of hours.

There's only one person I can trust, but I don't have a way to reach out to him.  That's my first task.  Find a way to reach out to Jesim.  He'll be able to figure out what's going on.