No Guardian, I

Part 9

"Otpusti yego," said the Ghost, blinking its mechanical iris across Jasker's face. "On ne vrag tebe, Alyona."

Jasker was too stupefied to react. He understood that the Ghost just asked the woman to release him, because he was not an enemy, but why did it even know his name? And... how?

The chokehold abruptly disappeared. Jas bumped his head on the ground.

"Ya ne znayu, chto ty takoe, Glazok," said the woman and went to pick up the rifle Jasker lost in the first seconds of the encounter. I don't know what you are, Little Eye.

"Are you hurt?" asked the Ghost, playing a wide beam along Jasker's body. "No, you are not. Only a bit of bruising on the chest and abdomen. Good," it continued before he could react. "Very good. Now, I need your assistance, if you please."

"What kind of assistance?" asked Jas, sitting up. "Don't get me wrong, I'm honored and all, you being a ghost and her a Guardian, but..."

"She's... no Guardian." The Ghost looked, if it was possible, ashamed. "She's just a poor lost soul woken up a few centuries after she died. But that does not matter, we have work to do. Follow me, please."

"Wait... what? How is she not a Guardian? You just said she's been woken up. If I'm guessing correctly, you are the one who revived her."

"Your questions are irrelevant to the work we need to perform, Jasker. Please follow me."

Sullen, Jasker followed the Ghost, noting the wonder with which the woman, Alyona, if he caught the name correctly, examined the rifle. Her movements were fast and precise, but a bit off, clipped, as if she was used to a smaller weapon of a similar design. Then she put the gun to her shoulder in a fluid motion and sighted in rapid succession on a distant rock, then a rivet on the hull, then on Jasker's forehead. She lowered the gun across her body, the sling draped around her right shoulder, handgrip level with her chest, and smiled. She looked more relaxed and confident with a weapon in her hands.

"You must have no end of questions, Jas," said the Ghost once they were well inside the hull. Its voice rang off the rusted metal walls. "I understand that, I truly do. But please understand, yourself, that what I am about to ask of you is far more important than any of them. I am not trying to be obscure. If anything, my very reason to exist is illumination."

"I need your help opening a certain lock. I believe you have the key. Or, more specifically, you are the key. What do you know of your bloodline?"

"Funny you should ask," said Jasker. "As far as I know, my mother's ancestors came from this region."

"True. And they brought something to the City with them. I believe you have that something on a chain around your neck. Do you know what that is?"

Jasker thought for a minute whether this was something he'd rather keep to himself. But the Ghost seemed to know quite a lot, and... trusting people he met worked out for him before. This applied, besides the caravan, to the "gray" citizenry of the City as well - Salavar, Dalton and the others who, directly or indirectly, helped him prepare his escape. There was no harm in telling the Ghost what he knew.

"Yes. A pre-Collapse datachip. With... information on it."

"Have you been able to crack it?" the Ghost asked, in an urgent tone.

"No. My great-grandfather did. Not completely - he only got the names of the files, the formats are beyond any currently available software. It's a list of seven locations. What is there, I do not know. But everyone in my family has been, at one point or another, a weaponsmith. I checked. Chances are, those locations are tied to my trade. I was on my way to check the one closest to the City when I heard your signal."