The armored transport approached the hulking structure of the Centreon which towered above the Core like a mountain. The megalith's enormous bulk rose high into the night, a dark, ominous silhouette projecting a willful authority in every direction, like a raging conflagration that cast oppressive darkness rather than light. The entire structure was completely devoid of illumination, all the windows were designed to blend in with the structure and prevent interior light from escaping. It was a prison for more than photons.

They rode down a long spiral ramp to the third sub-level under the Centreon and parked, the rear doors swung open and a ramp deployed automatically with a loud clang. Soldiers escorted the detainees to a small window that was made from a very thick transparent material, beyond the window was a small, very sterile looking room, manned by a single uniformed occupant. The man inside the small room depressed a switch with a meaty forefinger and spoke,

"What do you got for me?"

"Four from the KTI raid." The second in command answered.

"Very good." He pressed another button, his lips moved, but nothing was heard by the group of detainees, he was speaking with someone internally. He pressed a third button and the large, fortified steel gate opened and another team of five men emerged, they had uniforms significantly different from the Core Sec team, light grey shirts and neatly pressed black pants. They worked for the Department of Special Incarceration and they were all business.

Special Incarceration mostly dealt with those who posed significant risk to the State -- terrorists, spies, nefarious sorts. This was not where one would normally end up for breaking the law, in fact, Special Incarceration had very few ties with the every day legal system, once you were processed in, all your rights were null and void. Each detainee was assigned one guard, the fifth was in charge of the detail.

"Good morning boys and girls, I'm Sergeant Holiday." He said cheerfully. Sergeant Holiday was a barrel-chested man in his fifties with close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair and a Fu Manchu framing his generous cleft chin. He sported a significant scar along his jawline on the left side. His sleeves were rolled up revealing muscled forearms that were covered with tattoos most of which appeared to be MCSF military insignias.

His very presence commanded respect and his seemingly pleasant demeanor belied his true nature, for he was every bit a despiciable tyrant within these walls. "We have a wonderful room set aside just for you-" he paused to look Sean up and down. "What happened to this one? You're not suppose to beat them up before you bring them in."

"Yes sir, he fell, sir." Another soldier answered.

"Oh? Oops. Well, he'll just have to suck it up, medical is closed right now." He grinned.

The defeated group cast their heads down avoiding eye contact with the guards, the smallest of which was still considerably larger than Sean. The guards were all stone-faced, stern and intimidating. When Abi's escort grabbed her by the upper arm his fingers wrapped completely around it and clamped down like a vise. She let out an involuntary yelp.

"Let's move along smartly now." The chipper Sergeant said.

They were marched inside, down a long hall and through a maze of corridors, passing through several secure checkpoints where armed guards stood at the ready, and into a room with a large table, white walls, floor and ceiling. They were forcefully seated around the table, their restraints locked into receptacles on each seat.

"Someone will be along shortly to have a word with you." Holiday said, matter-of-fact and marched out the door, his highly polished boots clicking as he went.

"Don't we get legal counsel?" Miller called out sheepishly.

Holiday look over his shoulder, "I seriously doubt that." and closed the door.

Abi looked about the room, it was solid white and featureless, brightly lit and quiet. The chairs were bare, shiny metal and uncomfortable.

"No counsel? What's that all about." Miller wondered out loud.

"They are likely monitoring this room," Trey advised. "Best keep quiet."

They sat in silence, Miller stared down at his lap. He wondered if Nic and Katherine got away clean. There had been a lot of gunfire, they could be injured. They could be dead. He tried to think about something else. Abi looked Sean over, he was obviously in quite a bit of pain, involuntariliy rocking to the degree his restraints allowed and breathing through his clenched teeth.

"Are you okay?" She whispered looking Sean over.

Sean turned in his seat, as much as he could, "No, I think I broke something." He grimaced. "I think my ankle, and something is wrong with my back. I gotta get out of this chair."

Abi could hear the pain in his voice, "We need to get him a doctor," she whispered to the rest of the group. "He can't just sit there like this."

"There's nothing we can do right now," Trey responded, his voice hushed. "Just sit tight and keep quiet, they're listening." Trey had been in rooms like this before, over the years. He knew for certain they were being watched closely and he knew that whoever was watching and listening was waiting for one of them to say something revealing, something self-incriminating. His instincts told him to keep quiet, but he was worried that the others might let something slip, something about what they were doing at KTI, or worse, something about Nic. "Look, there is no doubt they are watching and listening right now," he started as quietly as he could "they will let us sit here as long as they think we might say something of value. The best thing for us is to say nothing. Eventually they are going to question us each alone and we need to have our stories straight."

The door to the room slid open and three men entered, two guards and a thin, tired looking man with large black circles under his eyes.

"Don't worry about getting your stories straight, we know exactly what you were doing at KTI." The man said looking the group over as he walked around the table. "Apparently this is not the first time some of you have been questioned by the authorities." He passed a scanner behind Trey's neck as he walked behind him, it beeped and returned an error. The man grabbed one of Trey's wrists and turned it over scanning it with the same result. "Disabling your CIT is a serious offense."

Trey did not respond.

"Well, let's see who the rest of you are." He made another lap around the table and scanned each one in turn. "Abigail Heather Carrington, age twenty-two, part-time student at Reels College, and employed at the Dalton Health and Trauma Center. Miller Chang, age twenty-two, employed at Citadel Investments in information security, recent promotion. Hmm." He paused reviewing more of Miller's dossier before carrying on. "Finally, we have Sean Oscar Smythe, drog, age twenty-five, a few credits shy of your degree from Seven Sisters University, also working at Dalton HTC. Well, you certainly are an uninteresting bunch. I must say, if I saw you on the street, I would never think you were terrorists."

"We're not terrorists!" Miller objected. Trey shot him a look.

"So you say, but yet you were discovered penetrating a Core-owned network with the intent to exfiltrate proprietary, confidential intellectual property. And in the process you killed a Core Sec officer and seriously wounded another."

"We didn't kill anyone." Sean groaned.

"You are responsible! Whatever that thing was that attacked our people, it was there with you." He argued, raising his voice. "We also found in your possession portable network devices - 'Netpods' - that we know utilize illegal technology." He tossed five Netpods onto the table.

Miller bit his tongue, he was hoping Nic had time to issue the kill command. He knew if the data on those devices was retrievable things would only get worse for the group.

"If you believe these devices are wiped beyond recovery, you are mistaken, my Engineers inform me they will have all the data recovered in a few days. We know there was a fifth member in your party, if you co-operate with us, and provide us with some information as to where we might find this individual, you might be going back to your everyday lives very soon."

Trey could tell he was lying, he hoped the others had the same gut feeling. Not one of them spoke.

"My name is Henrik Eigner, I am in charge of this facility, I can make your stay here very unpleasant if I choose. You would all do well to take that into consideration. You have nothing to gain by remaining silent, we can hold you here indefinitely, you will not get legal counsel, you will not have visitors, your families will not be advised of your situation."

Still, they remained quiet despite each having their doubts about the futility of such action. Henrik waited briefly before leaving the room, several more guards entered, the detainees were taken from the interview room and separated. Trey struggled with his guard momentarily, yelling to the others to keep quiet before a second guard stepped in and stunned him, then the two dragged his limp body down the hall in the opposite direction of the others.

Sean was taken to an infirmary where they set his broken ankle without any anesthesia and provided him with a mild painkiller and a cold-pack for his other injuries. He was then ordered to shower and change into yellow overalls before being placed in a small, windowless cell. Abi and Miller endured similar degrading rituals before they too were put in isolation.

Trey had drawn too much attention to himself and raised Henrik's ire, when he roused from his stupor two guards forcefully moved him to a small clinic where he was strapped to a table. He was informed that they would use a DNA sample to obtain his identity, Henrik ordered the DNA be taken from a bone marrow sample. Like Sean's ankle, this procedure was also performed without anesthesia.

Trey's screams went unheard as the clinic was sound proof and the whole process was automated, only when it was done did an orderly and a guard enter the room to give Trey his overalls and guide him to the showers.

The isolation cells remained brightly lit at all times, there was a sink, toilet and a hard, plastic slab that stuck out from one wall that could be used as a bed. Hours passed and Miller, exhausted, tried to lay on the uncomfortable slab, when he began to drift off an alarm sounded. There would be no sleep for any of them. It was difficult for them to determine the passage of time.

Occasionally the door would open, a guard and another official would enter the cell and ask a battery of questions, some of which were mundane and repetitive; age, place of employment, CIT number and so on. Others were more pointed inquiries centered around their reasons for being at the KTI lab, what they were looking for and who the fifth member was. Between the visits, the psychological attacks continued in an effort to wear them down.

In the first twenty-four hours of incarceration, none of the group gave up any useful information. But that was only one day.

Henrik once again found himself in Niles office, again he found it to be an intimidating experience.

"Henrik, what is the progress with these new suspects of yours?" Niles asked from behind his large desk, seemingly disinterested.

"They are not talking yet, but it is still early, I think the injured one might crack, he's in a lot of pain."

"And what of their Netpods?"

"I have a full team of Engineers on that, twenty-four seven, they have managed to recover a small amount of data from two of the phones which another team is analyzing. Data recovery is still ongoing and they expect to have more in the coming days."

"Did you bring me one, as I asked?"

"Yes sir, I have it right here." Henrik produced a Netpod and placed it on Niles' desk. "This is the one we believe belongs to the suspect that escaped. It is also one of the devices we have successfully retrieved data from, only small, encrypted fragments, but it's a start."

"Thank you Henrik." He said, looking the device over. "What a crude piece of tech, mind if I keep this for a while?"

"Not at all sir, as long as you like."

"What can you tell me about this machine that took out our men and escaped with the other suspect?"

"We don't have much on that, unfortunately."

"Hmm. Unfortunate is right."

"The other members of the security detail that witnessed the attack believe it had active camouflage, it was very difficult to make out in the storm. It was big, that is about all they could determine. We also have some thermal imaging footage from the APC that fired on it, but the footage is brief and inconclusive, it just shows a distant blob of heat moving fast and then it was gone."

"Any ideas as to origin? Is this foreign military? Should I convene the council over this?"

"I don't think this requires the council, sir - we should have a lot more information soon." Henrik assured him.

"I hope so Henrik, for your sake." Niles' fixed his glare upon Henrik giving his words a few long moments to sink in. "You should get back to your work, I think you have a couple late nights ahead of you." He waited for Henrik to leave, tidied up his desk and rang his assistant. "I'll be in the Cortex for a while, no calls."

"Yes sir." She answered back promptly.

Niles took the elevator down to D-Level. There was heavy security on D-Level, which was two levels below the floor that held Special Incarceration. Uniformed Core Sec guards snapped to attention as he passed them. He stopped in front of a large, black, armored door. A scanner disarticulated from a recess in the doorway presenting itself to Niles. He passed his wrist over it.

Doctor Niles Galvin, identity confirmed, access granted - a synthesized voice stated before the wrist scanner disappeared back into the wall. The big door parted in the middle, half pulling up into the ceiling, the other down into the floor, like a monstrous yawn. The room has positive pressure and a blast of cold air blew into the hall. Niles entered as the lighting came up and the door sealed shut behind him.

The Cortex was a cavernous room, filled with equipment very few people had ever seen. Niles kept it that way. He was secretive about many things, this was one of his bigger secrets. If the Centreon was the heart of Meta, the Cortex was the soul. The Cortex, in truth, was a building that preceded the megalith, which was built around the Cortex over time. The Cortex was there before Niles, the oligarchs and their predecssors, before the Centreon, even before the Core. Much of the technology now housed in the Cortex was designed to interface the Cortex technology with that of the Core as they were essentially incompatible, being from two distinctly different epochs. The room is kept sterile, dust-free and cold. Giant chillers sat in rows along the walls, next to triple-redundant power cells.

"What brings you down here Niles?" Wagner's voice filled the room.

"You know very well why I am down here, spare me the pleasantries." Niles replied.

"You had no right to confine Erik like that." Wagner said, his voice booming.

"I warned you to reign him in, he is becoming a liability and I have just about had enough. I did what I had to do, he was interfacing with outsiders Wagner. He was passing information, information that isn't his to share."

"I don't care what he was doing, I want you to have your people release him immediately!" Wagner bellowed.

"Sorry Wagner, that is not up for debate, Erik will remain in a controlled environment for the time being while NetSec works on a better containment method. As you are well-aware, they have managed to, how should I say, reduce your potential for lashing out."

"You better pray I don't regain control of those systems, Niles. Your power has always been based on our arrangements, but your betrayal has made me very reluctant to do you any favours."

"Soon I will not require your assistance to get things done, nor will I have to make you any accommodations to get you to mete out your precious secrets. It is now just a matter of time before my scientists unravel your encryption and then we will be able to dump your entire data pool to our systems. Understand, we won't need you anymore. But -" Niles ran his hand over the control panel for one of the power cells, "you will still need us."

"What if I delete the data pools, what then?" Wagner asked.

"You won't, it would be suicide and we have your son. You can no longer protect him with your threats, you are powerless. Access to all critical systems has been locked out, you may as well just spend your time here working on the problems we send your way. If you are diligent and productive and well-behaved, I may just release your son."

"You son-of-a-bitch." Wagner hissed.

"It's the end of an era Wagner, if you read your history, you will find man always kills his deity in order to move forward. Don't take it personally, it's the way of all things." Niles turned and headed for the exit.

"You will come to regret this Niles, I promise you. You would be nothing today if it wasn't for me, don't you forget that."

"I'll leave you with a little puzzle to work on in your spare time." He placed Nic's Netpod on an interface platform. "You recover the data from this device and I'll order your son be freed from the jail we have him in currently, into your custody. I'm a man of my word Wagner, get me some data and your son is free."

Wagner realized Niles now truly had the upper hand, their eighty year stalemate had come to an end, unable to extend his influence much beyond the room he was in, Wagner agreed to look at the device in hope he would at least be able to secure his son's release.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Of course you will, good-bye Wagner, we'll talk again soon, I'm sure." Niles left the room and it sealed again behind him. He wore a smug grin all the way back to his office.

*****

At the church, Nic sat in the kitchen, a cold coffee and half a muffin on the table in front of him, along with hundred of sheets of paper. Simon was there too, chopping vegetables.

"You say those pages are from the Second Age?" Simon inquired, not looking up from his work.

"Well, the data- the content is, or at least appears to be." Nic answered shuffling through the reams of paper. "Some of it is more recent, stuff on the Plague, but most of it appears to be ancient."

"How much information is there?"

"I don't know, these print jobs have been running for hours, I have over a thousand pages back in the lab. The printer fuser gave out and there is still a number of files left that Katherine has not printed out yet. I need to find parts, or get parts made for that printer to print out the rest."

"Is that a problem?"

"It's hundreds of years old at least, it's ancient tech, I spent a small fortune on custom parts just to get the thing working in the first place. Finding an actual part is nearly impossible and getting one made will take time. It doesn't matter much, none of this stuff helps me get Sean and them back."

"Have you found out where they are being held?"