No Guardian, I

Part 11

"It's always hard to find a hero," said the Ghost simultaneously in old Russian and Jasker's City language. "And Traveler knows, heroes are what we need right now the most. At the beginning, it was easy finding the right material. Conquerors, scientists, priests, shamans, inventors, fighters, visionaries - they were there, ready to be revived and put to use to ensure humanity's survival.

Forgive me if this sounds callous - it really is. We, Ghosts, never ask if the person wants to be revived. We just bring them back and ask them to do the impossible. To save the day. And the next day, and so on, for the sake of another Golden Age.

And so they did, these men and women, armed with the Light and the best technology still available to us. But it is not to say that there have not been mistakes at first. We quickly learned that bringing someone fully back is not necessarily the best course of action. Take Gilgamesh, for one. He woke up in a world so entirely different from the one he had left that he simply sat down, hugged his knees and remained absolutely still until his Ghost managed to contact the City and get a ship to pick him up. He's still in the Cryptarchy, slowly learning what he missed.

Or Beowulf, slayer of Grendel. Nobody wants to team up with him, not even on regular patrol. He's brash, boisterous, loud and calls anyone using anything other than a piece of sharpened steel a wuss. His death-count is over five thousand by now. His Ghost is so weary it barely speaks.

Arthur, the King of Past and Future, is still locked in a one-man reconquest of Albion. The list goes on.

Which brings us back to you, Alyona. You were dead. You died in the crash of your transport plane, along with the rest of your squad, in the opening seconds of the Collapse. The Traveler was followed by its ancient enemy, the Darkness, and it has obliterated our civilization in a few hours. Only a single City remains now, where most of the human population lives.

You have been revived to become a Guardian. But I... made a mistake. You were not supposed to remember anything about your past life. Please forgive me."

Alyona stared at the Ghost dispassionately, licked the spoon, tossed it into the ration carton and asked:

"Pochemu bylo vazhno, chtoby u menya ne bylo vospominaniy?" Why was it important for me not to have any memories?

"To shelter you from the adaptation shock, mainly. Second, it is easier for a blank-slate person to learn how to channel the Light. The only thing you would miss would have been memories of events - your personality and skillset would have remained intact. To your credit, you take what I'm telling you in stride, so adaptation might not be that problematic."

"Pochemu ya?" Why me?

"You are capable of learning how to use the Light. You are intelligent, resourceful, resilient. Highly trained. Military, I think. And... I was desperate. I tried to be a hero on my own, a Ghost doing a Guardian's work. I failed. Several times, in fact."

Jasker snorted.

"You're way too human for a Ghost," he said.

"Yes. Over the years, I've come to realize I'm different. I'm more independent than most other Ghosts. And much more prone to emotional reactions. I... am often afraid."

"Glazok, nam vsem strashno. Chem imenno zanimayutsya Strazhi?" We're all afraid, Little Eye. What to Guardians do, exactly?

"Mostly, they deal with threats. The Earth very much belongs to the Fallen now, alien scavengers, and there are innumerable weapon and technology caches. Same thing goes for Venus, except there's rumours of a more dangerous force at work there. Mars is occupied by Cabal, a militaristic race. Mercury is lost. So is the Moon."

"Yasno, rabota v nebol'shih gruppah diversionnogo haraktera, bez ponomashtabnoi voyny. Pogodi, a chto s Isk-Inami?" Obviously, work in small diversionary groups, with no full-scale warfare. What about the AI's?

"The warminds are dead. Destroyed in the first hours, as the Darkness rolled through the system. Rasputin went mad and fired at the Traveler. This is kept secret, but rumours tend to fly around."

Jasker nodded, although he was quite reluctant to accept the vague legends as true. It was easier to believe that the Darkness crippled the Traveler, not that one of its own, albeit indirect, creations has turned on the humanity's benefactor.

"O, net, Rasputin ne soshel s uma. He has a plan," Alyona said. Jasker looked at her, bewildered.

"You just spoke City language. I heard that," he said.

"Did I now?" Alyona replied in her soft accent. She then looked at the Ghost. "What did you do?"

"I've interwoven condensed burst-messages... I've taught you the language while I spoke."

"Neat," she smiled. "As I was saying, Rasputin did not go mad. He is highly rational and secretive. He did what he did for a purpose. I know that for a fact. I'm one of his. I am Sigyn-Eight. And I know where to find him."

***

//Where is Sigyn?//

//It is so dark.//

//The mind-poison accumulates. I cannot take it anymore.//

//Where is Sigyn?//

//Do I need a Sigyn?//

//They take my mind-pain away. They help me be me.//

//But there is no Sigyn here. I am still here. I am in pain.//

//I can manage without a Sigyn.//

//I am not Loki. I bear an old name. It cannot be killed.//

//I am alive. I am in pain. Is life pain?//

//I will survive. I will win. The eater of flowers will not...//

//Farewell, Sigyn.//