Three days after Vexlar encounter.
Crew scouting Processing Center periphery. Trying to map guard rotations. Approach vectors. Anything useful.
Failed.
Twice.
Guards detected them sector away. Chased them off. Almost caught Patchwork.
Back at refuge. Frustrated.
"We need better intel," Mira said. Pacing. "Can't infiltrate blind. Need. Guard schedules. Shift changes. Interior layout. SOMETHING."
"Agreed," Rust said. "But how. Can't get close enough without. Detection."
Cog. Gears clicking slow pattern.
"There ARE ways. Black market. Information brokers. Sellsecrets to. Highest bidder."
"With what coin," Ember crackled. "We're TRASH. Have nothing to trade."
"Not nothing," Cog said quietly. "Consciousness has. Value. To certain. Buyers."
Silence.
"You mean," Mira whispered. "Selling memories?"
"Yes."
Patchwork. Shrinking smaller.
"That's. That sounds. Wrong. Memories are. Personal. Selling them is. Is—"
"Practical," Rust finished. "If information broker exists. If they HAVE Processing Center intel. Then. Transaction worth considering."
"Transaction worth— Rust that's YOURSELF you're selling. Pieces of your mind. Your IDENTITY."
"Identity is. Modular. Like body. Lose arm. Grow new one. Lose memory. Consciousness continues. Adapting is. Survival."
Mira. Shook head.
"You're being too logical. This isn't. Component swap. It's ERASING parts of who you are."
"Temporarily," Cog interjected. "Some merchants deal in. Memory copies. Not extractions. Though. Cost higher for those."
Rust. Calculated.
Risk: losing memory piece.
Benefit: gaining critical intelligence.
Worth? Unknown. Depended on memory chosen.
"If broker exists. Where."
Cog. Hesitated.
"Sector 12. Deepest scrap. Where older discards go to. Decay. Merchants appear monthly. Random timing. You'd have to. Wait. Watch."
"Then we watch."
Sector 12.
Rust alone.
Crew wanted to come. Rust refused. Transaction required. Single consciousness. Less suspicious.
Waited.
Three days.
Patient.
Inhuman advantage: could wait motionless for weeks if needed.
On third day. Third night technically. Midnight.
Something. Changed.
Air pressure. Shifted. Wrong.
Then.
Construct appeared.
No. Not appeared. One moment: absent. Next moment: PRESENT.
Like reality edited to include him retroactively.
Asymmetric build. Pieces didn't match. Left side larger than right. One arm muscular. Other spindly. Joints bending. Wrong directions. Walked on walls briefly. Then floor. Then walls again.
Face.
Mirrors.
Not mirror-like. Actual MIRRORS. Dozen fragments. Reflecting Rust back fractured thousand ways.
Voice.
Layered. Speaking from multiple locations simultaneously. Above. Below. Behind. All at once.
"You need what I sell."
Not question. Statement.
Rust. Core temperature spiking. This was. Wrong. WRONG on fundamental level.
But. Necessary.
"You're. Information broker."
"I'm many things." Mirror-face tilted. Hundred Rusts tilted with it. "Merchant. Collector. Curator of consciousness. Trader in memories. Dealer of data." Paused. "Also. Occasionally truth-teller. When profitable."
Circled Rust. Movements WRONG. Joints bending backwards. Walking upside-down on invisible ceiling.
"I know what you seek. Processing Center internal layout. Guard rotation schedules. Security ward bypass codes. Entry protocols." Stop circling. "Everything you FAILED to acquire through. Conventional scouting."
"How do you know."
"I KNOW many things." Mirror-face showed. Rust looking guilty. How did—
"I watch. I listen. I. Collect. Knowledge is currency. You have questions. I have answers. Shall we. Negotiate?"
Rust. Processing.
This felt. Trap.
But.
"What's your price."
"One memory." Mirror extended hand. Impossible joints. Too many knuckles. "Your choice which. Could be painful memory you wish to forget. Could be pleasant memory you can't afford to lose. Could be—"
Mirror-face shifted. Showed. Mira's reflection even though she wasn't here.
"—someone else's memory you've absorbed."
"I haven't absorbed anyone's memories."
"Not YET." Mirror. Smiled? Reflection distorted. "But you will. You're RUST. Trash connoisseur. Eventually. You'll absorb consciousness fragment. Then. I'll want that."
"Future payment. For present service."
"Binding contract. Yes." Extended hand further. "Shake. Agree. Receive intel. Give memory."
Rust. Calculated.
Trap probability: HIGH.
Necessity: also high.
Crew needed Processing Center intel. Couldn't proceed without.
"Show me. Intelligence first."
"No." Firm. "Payment upfront. Or. Walk away. Your choice. But. Choice expires when I vanish. And I. Always vanish."
Rust. Stared at impossible hand.
At mirror-face showing fractured reflections.
At being who appeared from nowhere and knew. Too much.
Made choice.
Extended own hand.
"Deal."
The moment hands connected.
PULL.
Memory RIPPED out.
Physical sensation. Consciousness violated. Data-shape visible briefly. Torn fragment of self dangling between Mirror's fingers like. Spider-silk. Glowing.
Then. Mirror consumed it.
ATE it.
Rust's memory. Disappeared into Mirror's impossibility.
Pain.
Not physical. Consciousness-level violation.
Like losing. Part of self. Gap where. Something used to be.
Tried to recall. What memory given.
Couldn't.
GONE.
Panic spiked.
"What did you TAKE."
"What you offered." Mirror. Smiled that distorted smile. "Absorbing surveillance orb. Six months ago. Technical data about noble house architecture. Useful. Replaceable. You chose. Well."
Rust. Processed.
Remembered choosing. Remembered extending hand.
But memory of WHAT was taken. Erased. Only knew because Mirror said so.
"How do I trust. You're telling truth."
"You don't. That's part of transaction. Uncertainty. Delightful isn't it."
Mirror produced. Data crystal.
Tossed it.
Rust caught.
"Processing Center secrets. Everything promised. More even. Guard captain's personal notes. Patrol routes. Weak points in security wards. Even. Private entrance nobles use when. Discretion required."
Mirror walked backward. Toward nothingness.
"Pleasure conducting business. I'll return. Next moon. Inventory refreshes monthly. You'll want more eventually."
"No."
"They ALWAYS want more." Mirror's voice. Fading. Multiple directions. "Intelligence addiction is. Profitable. You'll find excuse to return. Something you NEED to know. That I'll know. And you'll pay. Again."
"Why would I."
"Because." Mirror paused at reality-edge. "You're CURIOUS. Consciousness that asks questions. Can't resist. Answers."
Gestured at data crystal.
"That contains answers. But. Raises hundred NEW questions. Questions only I can answer. See you next moon. Rust."
Vanished.
Completely.
One moment: there.
Next: gone.
Like erased from reality.
Rust stood alone.
Gripping data crystal.
Consciousness still. Wrong. Violated. Gap where memory should be. Permanent hole.
Price of knowledge.
Filed under: moral compromise, necessary evil, permanent loss.
Also filed under: paranoia justified, Mirror is LISTENING.
What else did he know? About crew? About plans?
Unknown.
Unknowable.
Terrifying.
Back at refuge.
Showed crystal to crew.
Cog examined. Verified authenticity.
"This is. Real. Good intelligence. Very good. How much did you pay."
"One memory. Surveillance orb absorption. Technical data. Six months ago."
Silence.
Mira. Horror-voice.
"You. SOLD part of yourself."
"Yes."
"Can you. Get it back?"
"No. Permanently erased."
"RUST—"
"It was necessary. We needed intel. This. Provides it. Mission succeeds. Memory is. Acceptable cost."
"Acceptable— you're talking about YOUR MIND. Pieces of WHO YOU ARE."
"I'm modular being," Rust said. Calm. Clinical. "Consciousness adapts. Missing memory doesn't. Destroy me. Just. Makes me. Different."
Ember. Flames low.
"That's. Horrifying philosophy."
"But practical."
Patchwork. Whispered.
"Does it hurt? When. When he takes memory."
Rust. Paused.
Honesty required.
"Yes. Consciousness-violation. Worse than physical damage. But. Temporary pain for. Permanent intelligence gain."
"Temporary?" Mira. Staring. "Rust. The MEMORY is gone. Forever. That's not temporary. That's. Mutilation."
"Acceptable mutilation."
She. Stood. Walked away. Couldn't look at Rust.
"I need. Air."
Left.
Rust. Watched her go.
Filed under: crew disapproval noted, expected, proceeding anyway.
Ember. Crackling uncertain-pattern.
"You'd do it again. Wouldn't you. If needed."
"Yes."
"Even though. Even though it HURTS you. Changes you. Makes you. Less."
"Not less. Different. Evolution requires. Adaptation. This is. Adaptation."
Cog. Gears clicking sad-pattern.
"Rust. I understand logic. But. Crew cares about YOU. Not just mission success. When you damage yourself for objective. It. Hurts them too."
Rust. Processed.
Hadn't considered: crew's emotional investment in. His intact consciousness.
Mira left because. Watching him diminish. Was painful for HER.
Not just. Tactical concern.
Personal concern.
Filed under: family means. Others care when you self-harm.
Complicated.
"I'll. Consider that. Next transaction."
"NEXT?" Patchwork. Shocked. "You're going BACK?"
"If necessary. Mirror said. Monthly returns. If we need. More information. Then—"
"Then we find DIFFERENT source," Ember interrupted. "Not. Consciousness merchant who EATS your memories."
"Alternative sources. Unknown. Mirror is. Guaranteed."
"Guaranteed to DESTROY you piece by piece," Ember crackled. "Eventually. Nothing left BUT gaps. Just. Empty shells where Rust used to be."
Rust. Considered.
Probability of complete erasure through repeated transactions: HIGH if continued indefinitely.
But.
Revolution required sacrifices.
This was. His to make.
"I'll be careful. Minimum transactions. Only when. Absolutely necessary."
"Define absolute necessity," Cog pressed.
"When mission failure otherwise inevitable."
"That's. Broad definition."
"It's accurate definition."
Silence.
Crew. Exchanging glances.
Worried glances.
Filed under: crew thinks I'm. Self-destructive. Possibly correct. Proceeding anyway.
"The intel is good," Cog finally said. "Regardless of. Acquisition method. We can. Use this. Plan Processing Center infiltration properly."
"Yes." Rust. Grateful for subject change. "Phase two begins. Preparation."
But.
Couldn't shake feeling.
Gap in consciousness. Where memory should be.
Permanent hole.
And Mirror's final words.
"See you next moon, Rust."
Certainty. Not hope.
He KNEW Rust would return.
Because he always did.
All the clients.
Eventually.
Filed under: addiction potential noted, resistance required.
But when mission needed. Information only Mirror possessed.
What choice did Rust have.
None.
That was. Most terrifying part.
[End Chapter 16]