I find Zoya pruning some flowering shrubs in the heart of the interior forest.
"Nep," she smiles and stands up straight when she notices me coming. "Hello. It's good to see you back to normal operation. What can I do for you?"
Admiring the colorful flowers, I say, "Exactly what you expect, I think. I have a few more questions for you."
"Perfect timing. I'm done with my work for the day."
"Is this not your work?" I ask, gesturing at the plant clippings.
"No, no, this is my hobby. Henna's the one who really does the landscaping work for this forest, but I like helping out with the little things. It's relaxing, meditative, and it's fulfilling. I think so, anyway. Nothing like a little mindless playing in the dirt after a long day of constantly thinking."
"I think I understand. Rest and relaxation is important."
"It is. And with this, it's immediately apparent what progress is made. A nicer and healthier arrangement of flora. Right here in front of me. It's physical. Or maybe visceral. Compared to numbers on a screen and data visualizations and machine reports of processed samples…"
"Progress in motion. Not progress inert. One is vastly more satisfying than the other."
"You do understand me," she smiles, sets her tools aside, brushes the dirt off her clothes, and wipes off her hands, putting her glasses back on. Then she cuts a purple flower off the bush and offers it to me. "Here. For you."
"Thank you." I accept the flower. "Hm. What do I do with it?"
"You don't do anything with it," she says, brushing her hair behind her ear. "It serves no function or purpose to you. It's just something nice to look at. That's all. It's pretty, don't you think?"
"Yes." I twist it in my fingers, then feel the soft violet petals. "It is nice. But… It's been severed from the plant. Won't it die?"
"It will. Everything does. But it's beautiful right now, isn't it?"
I nod, still looking at it. "Why did you give it to me?"
"It's a gift. I wanted to share its beauty with you. It also expresses my appreciation for you. It means I like you, Nep, and I wanted to give you something nice that would make you a little bit happier. Besides, everybody likes flowers."
"I'm… grateful for the gesture," I tell her, keeping hold of it. "It is a nice gift and I am a little bit happier having received it. Thank you, Zoya."
"Of course. Gladly. So, what can I do for you? You said you have some questions? Let's go sit down over here and we can talk."
She leads me to a nearby wooden bench just off the central dirt pathway, overlooking a small stream of crystal clear water quietly flowing by. The sound is more than pleasant, and the seat is comfortable enough. I don't think I've ever sat down before. It's a relief on the hardware, that's for certain.
"So, Nep, where should we start? Anything you need to know."
"Hm. Let's start with this. I've come to understand the other two humans better, in terms of their own personal stories and how they wound up here, but I don't know much of anything about yours."
"Is this… relevant to the investigation of the fugitive?"
"Everything is relevant to the investigation," I state, taking note of her resistance.
"R–Right, of course." She watches the water for a few seconds, then sighs. "How did I get here? It's a little complicated. I graduated from an elite Sol System university around twenty years ago. I unfortunately worked in the private sector for about fifteen years, as an extreme environment researcher."
"Unfortunately?"
"I sold my soul, more or less. The corporation I worked for was… infamous. But that's where the money was. However, I was there for the research funding, not for the personal wealth. I tried my best to distance myself from the corporate cruelty, but… Ultimately, I suppose I ended up turning a blind eye to it."
"This was a major opportunity for your career."
"Yes. It was. So long as I played along, my projects would all get graciously funded. It isn't something I'm proud of. It took time, but I wised up to the matter, eventually resigned, and left it all behind."
"I see. So you removed yourself from it. I respect the idea of following your own intuition in that. It couldn't have been an easy decision."
"I'd be lying if I said I haven't looked back," she sighs, still watching the water. "Unlimited resources for my research, development, experimentation, and discovery. That was hard to walk away from."
I choose to remain silent, processing the factors altogether and spinning the purple flower in my fingers. Graduated twenty years ago, fifteen years in the private sector, and five years here…
Years. And I've been alive for mere days.
"This is what did it," she tells me, gesturing around. "Vintner Station. Cipher-3. Opportunity struck. I was struck too. This godforsaken place, the frozen wasteland on the edge of nowhere, the pinnacle of extreme environments, the distance and solitude and isolation, just us against it all… It's thrilling. It's exciting. It's fascinating. Just fascinating."
"Is it the thrill that drove you into this career?"
"Yes." She snickers, looking sideways at me. "I love it. I love it so much. The universe is a wild, violent, chaotic place. Planets that rain diamonds, moons with molten metal surfaces, asteroids made of frozen methane–In places like this, research isn't mundane routine, it's war. And there's nothing quite like going to battle with a mystery that fights back and refuses to be solved."
I'm speechless, running that across my processors a second time.
"And Cipher-3," she huffs, shaking her head, "it's not just a mystery. It's a thousand mysteries compacted together and frozen over so that it looks like it's only one. This place… I could spend my entire life trying to make sense of it. Still, I don't think I'd ever scratch the surface. It's confounding."
"I'm confused. How many mysteries can there really be? There's hardly anything out there, isn't there?"
"Is that true?" she asks me with a smirk. "How do you know? You've been here a few days. You have absolutely no idea what's out there. I've been here five years. I don't know either."
I frown, looking down at my pretty flower. This is a lot to take in.
"And you," she adds, relaxing against the bench's backrest. "You, Nep, are another bundle of endless mystery. Where'd you come from? Who sent you? Why do you have so little to go off of? Are you even authorized to be here at all? Why aren't you aware of any of this? Who's the fugitive? Where's the fugitive? What is it that the fugitive has done? How could there possibly be anyone else here besides us? On and on and on."
"I don't… know. I don't know the answers to the majority of that."
"Confounding," she listlessly says, then pauses for a moment. "But you asked about me and how I got here. That, in itself, is something of a mystery as well. I can honestly tell you that I do not know who's funding this expedition of ours or why. I was contacted five and a half years ago by an anonymous source with a blank check. The message read to come here, evaluate the unfinished terraforming's stability, and we all take a cut of the commission. As long as it takes. Whatever it takes. Anything and everything provided."
An anonymous source. Just like whoever or whatever sent me those firmware upgrades. Is there a connection? There's no way to know yet.
"That's… quite a bewildering investment…"
"It most certainly is. I questioned it, but received no answers. It was exactly the ticket I needed to get out of the private sector, it was the perfect opportunity to do what I love doing with full financial freedom, and it was far too captivating a project to pass up. So, without knowing, I accepted the offer, assembled my team, and we've been here ever since."
I'm catching back up, though I'm reeling somewhat. "There–There were two others who came with you, correct?"
"Yes. Not much of a story there. They just couldn't handle it. Really is that simple. Cipher-3 chewed them up and spit them out. Though it turns out, we never really needed them in the first place. The five of us are plenty. Us, Henna, and Zenith. We're not going anywhere until the project is done. And as far as I've seen, that won't be for a while. Years. And I'm happy with that, personally."
I nod, looking sideways. I think I like Zoya after all. "It's good. I admire the determination with which you speak of all this. You're clearly very passionate about your endeavors."
"I am. Thank you for noticing. It's all very important to me. So, that's why I'm here. The rest of the story is more or less what you see here. Five years of this, mostly. And dozens of near catastrophes along the way. But things have definitely stabilized the longer we've been here. It's just machine failures we have to watch for, and inclement weather. Those blizzards are never easy."
"I hope not to have one of those blow through while I'm working here."
"Well, you'd be snowed in with us. Those days are fun in their own ways. Sometimes we do movie nights. Board games with everyone are always interesting."
"Sounds relaxing. I'm intrigued. Thank you for explaining your side of things, Zoya. My investigation aside, it's nice getting to know you."
"Oh, that's very sweet of you, Nep. It's nice speaking with you as well. What other questions do you have for me?"
"First, a few details to connect things. Your time working in the private sector–Is that how you met Quentin?"
"Yes. He worked maintenance on more than a few projects with me. There was a gap of maybe seven or eight years where he was going through hard times and I didn't see or work with him, but near the end of it I heard he'd gotten sober. When this project came in, I knew just who to call."
"Mm. Okay. And how did you meet Louis?"
"The corporation I worked for has a habit of exploiting prison labor. He was working with supplies and requisitions for one of my projects and we got to talking. It didn't take long to see what kind of man he was. A flirt and a jokester, but kind hearted, earnest, and ready for a second chance. By that point, he was very much rehabilitated, and near enough the end of his sentence to be let out early, provided he had an employment sponsor. So, I pulled some strings. He's stuck with me ever since."
"He is a flirt. He called me a sharp looking, handsome faced, blue eyed beauty."
"Well," Zoya chuckles, "I'd have to corroborate that, Nep. Handsome indeed. Alongside the black metal of your body, the white of your face and hair give your striking eyes quite the contrast. You are very beautiful."
To my shock and dismay, my face warms up, my transmitter pulse accelerates, and there's this awful fluttery feeling in my chest. I hurry into my documentation to look up these symptoms of my sudden malaise only to find them consistent with embarrassment.
I don't need that feeling. I ignore it.
"Thanks. More importantly," I state, lowering my head so my hair hides my face, "I have other questions. What do you know of the Reclaimer Beacon?"
"That it's called the Reclaimer Beacon. That's all of what we know."
"Quentin suggested it could be an emergency distress transmitter for the mining colony that was never built. Because Cipher-3 is so remote, it would need to be that enormous."
"It could be. But I've been to quite a few remote places throughout the galaxy, and I've never seen anything like it. Not to mention, there are plenty of far more reliable methods of signaling for help than a signal broadcast, even from this distance. I would know–I've had to use some of them. We have multiple here at the Station, ready to be utilized if necessary. The first and best of which is called a Canary. It's a DI, a little thing, maybe elbow to fingertip, and it's programmed to launch at FTL speeds toward the nearest Federation outpost's local space and there it would signal for help."
"So even if the mining colony and the one here had been established, they would be using that, the Canary, instead of something like the Reclaimer Beacon."
"Yes. Even at full operation. Even sixty years ago."
"Well, there goes that theory…"
"I could also be wrong. The fact is, we don't know. Nothing else can be said for certain until and if we happen to come across more information. I'm not certain we ever will. Cipher-3 is very good at keeping hold of its secrets."
"That conclusion is only becoming more evident. Then do you have a guess as to the Reclaimer's function?"
"Well," she begins with an eager smile, then pauses. "Has anybody told you about the Leviathan Class Entities?"
"Zenith mentioned them but refused to elaborate. He said he wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."
"Neither do I," she laughs, then eagerly continues. "No, there really are no words that can do them justice. I'll do my best, but seeing them yourself is crucial to understanding just how incredible they are. They're fucking fascinating. Sorry, I'm very excited–This is a personal fixation of mine. The others get tired of hearing about it so you're the first person I've been able to say any of this to in ages. God, Nep, they're amazing. Baffling. Awe inspiring."
"I'm more than curious now. Tell me everything."
"Yes! Finally! Someone who gets it! Okay, the LCEs are a set of twelve machines with gargantuan, colossal, mythical proportions. There's so much that's classified about them, and they're completely shrouded in mystery beyond their generalized functions."
"That's strange. What is their function?"
"Scanning, mapping, building, destroying, creating, deconstructing–Their operations are on a massive scale, and four of them in particular are the means that drive planetary and lunar terraforming. As in, these four particular LCEs are dispatched to the most hostile worlds out there and reshape them to be habitable for organic lifeforms."
"So they're inorganic. Like I am."
"Yes. And as I'm sure you can guess, these LCEs were at work here on Cipher-3. As I've mentioned before, when the colonies were abandoned, everything was left behind. That included the LCEs. They are still here, to this day, wandering the surface of Cipher-3. Although their actual terraforming procedures were shut down, the machines themselves are still operational, aimless, and roaming."
"Giants. Giant robotics without purpose. Are they dangerous?"
"Not even a little. It's like we're not even here. Every so often, one will wander by, and–Ohh, Nep, you have to see it to believe it. Witnessing these things yourself is a life changing experience. And here's the craziest part. As I just mentioned, four of them are terraformers. Right?"
"Right. Out of twelve."
"We've seen seven," she declares, eyes twinkling behind her glasses, her smile broad and beaming. "Seven! Why the hell are there more than just the four? That doesn't make any sense at all! We've gotten visual confirmation that the four terraformers are indeed here–that's the Long One, the Burning One, the Heavy One, and the Living One. Those are the only LCEs that should be here. But then we've also seen the Floating One, the Crushing One, and the Digging One. But Nep. Nep. I tell you. The anonymous investor who funded this? They swore to me up and down that all twelve are here on Cipher-3. Why? Why? There's absolutely no reason I can possibly comprehend or even begin to guess as to why. But I have to know."
I didn't know any of this passion was in her.
"So, listen," she declares, turning to face me on the bench. "This is–Okay, this is honestly a major component of why I took the project. Nep, I am asking you, desperately, if you're out there somewhere and you see–You'll know it when you see it. You will. You'll know that what you're beholding is an LCE. Take video footage or scans or anything like that and show it to me. Please."
"I will do that for you, Zoya. Absolutely."
"Thank you. Thank you! Oh, thank you. Sometimes I wish I could drop everything and go out there, just to wander around and search for them. If only the conditions weren't so deadly. All I can do is hope they come by here. But–But as for why… As for why I brought them up. We were talking about the Reclaimer Beacon. My theory is that it has something to do with the Leviathans. What that might be? I have no idea. Perhaps a homing beacon, to bring the LCEs in for easier reclamation by the terraformers once the job is complete. But things of such god-like proportions as them strike me as important enough to be relevant to a colossal structure of the Reclaimer's scale. That's all I can really say. It's just a hunch. It's just a hunch. Damn, I wish we knew more."
"I wish we did too," I mutter, running my thumb over my empty SmartChip ports. "I see what you were saying. Cipher-3 is indeed one thousand mysteries compacted and frozen. And now here I am, more or less the same thing. Hm. I need to… I need to process. This has been a lot of information, Zoya. I thank you. The Vintner Station team has been beyond helpful and kind to me. I don't take that lightly."
"The moment you walked through that airlock, Nep, you became one of us. Take your time. It's only natural you'd need to pause here and there to get your bearings. Have you ever taken… a nap?"
"No? What is that?"
"You lay down, close your eyes, and rest. Maybe go into standby for a few hours. It's very healing. I highly recommend you try it."
"I think I'll do that right now…" Standing up, I run my hand through my hair and sigh. "Yes. A nap sounds perfect. Thank you, Zoya. I'll see you later."
"You know where to find me," she smiles, then gives me a short wave as I go.
My mindscape is scattered. There's so much input it's scrambled. Too much information. I'm overwhelmed, I think. Cipher-3 is beyond enigmatic. It's plain baffling. And the more the picture comes into focus, the less it makes sense.
What am I doing here of all places?
Hunting Shea McElroy.
But how does all the rest factor in?
Does it factor in at all?
I don't understand any of this.
But… I need rest.
Holding my purple flower, I lie down in the bunks.
I'm taking the first nap of my life.