"You'll pay for this," Tamir spat, blood pooling beneath him. "You and your kind."
Altaïr's voice remained steady."Looks like you're the one paying," he said. "You will not profit from suffering any longer." Tamir gave a faint, broken laugh."You think of me as some petty death dealer," he said, "suckling at the breast of war? A strange target, don't you think? Why me, when so many others still draw breath?"
"You see yourself as different, then?" Altaïr asked.
"Oh, but I am," Tamir replied. "I serve a cause far nobler than mere profit. Just like my brothers."
"Then I will find them," Altaïr said, "and hunt them down as well. Now tell me—who were you supplying weapons to? Who was your cl—"
The world fractured.Sound vanished. Light dissolved. Everything blurred into nothing."Vidic," Desmond said, panic creeping into his voice. "Are you seeing this?" .Lucy studied the readings."It appears this section of Altaïr's memory is damaged." Vidic exhaled sharply.
"It had to happen here," he said, irritation cutting through his voice."Unfortunate," Vidic continued. "But not fatal. We are still nowhere near what we're after."He stepped closer to the console.
"Pull him out," he said. "Ms. Stillman insists you rest. And try not to make tomorrow's session so… brief."
The Animus powered down.Desmond lay still as the machine released him. Vidic turned and left without another word, already retreating into his private office. Lucy remained behind, absorbed in the data scrolling across her tablet.
Desmond glanced at her.
"Care to tell me," he said dryly, "who exactly has a knife to his throat?"
Lucy didn't look up.
"We have a deadline," she said. "Six days."
"Deadline?" Desmond asked.
"I can't talk about it."
Desmond sat up slowly.
"So earlier at the bar you tell me you work for Abstergo," he said, "and now I'm stuck reliving murders from a thousand years ago. What do you actually want from me—and how long do I have to keep getting into that thing and doing air assassinations?"
Lucy hesitated.
"If you read the newspapers, Desmond, you'd already have your answer," she said. "And besides… it's safer for both of us if I don't explain."
Desmond paused, then frowned.
"One thing doesn't make sense," he said. "Why were the people in there talking like they're from… now? I mean—the present. This year. How does that work?"
"The Animus translates it for you," Lucy replied. "It presents their words in a modern context. Otherwise, you wouldn't understand half of what's being said."
She finally met his eyes.
"Now," she added, "if your questions are answered—how about some rest?"
Desmond stood.
"Fine," he said. "But I'm not doing this forever."He turned and left.The following morning—
"Up we go, Mr. Miles," Vidic said flatly. "Work to be done." Desmond followed him into the hall. Lucy wasn't there.
"Where's Lucy?" Desmond asked.
"She'll be here shortly," Vidic replied.
Desmond stopped walking.
"Why are you doing all this, Doc?" he asked. "What do you actually hope to accomplish?"
Vidic didn't slow.
"Turn on the television," he said. "Or read a newspaper."
"Never cared much for either," Desmond replied.
Vidic turned to face him.
"Then let me simplify it," he said. "We work for Abstergo. A company dedicated to restoring the lost heritage of our world. Civilization today is no less barbaric than it was a thousand years ago—as you've already seen."
He stepped closer.
"We study the past to correct the future."
"What does history possibly have to teach us?" Desmond asked.
Vidic smiled faintly.
"It has everything to teach us, Mr. Miles," he said. "Stay in the Animus long enough, and you'll understand."
Lucy entered the room.The Animus powered up once more.
Desmond lay back.
Eight more lives awaited.