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DEVON, ALONE. PART IV
The Legacy of Tears (5/9)
by Nicole Mayer



Morgan Martin wasn't the only jumpy one walking the offices of the Council. As John Danziger strode through the corridors, he felt the eyes of everyone on him, and wondered just how many of these workers were *them*. The Replicas.

In the past few days, Danziger had managed to push the situation with Kassidy from his mind. He didn't know what to think, and decided to avoid the subject altogether while he worked with the Resistance. With the new information they had, a confrontation seemed so very close!

He was still shocked by the content of Devon's message. According to her, the Council had eradicated the problem of keeping its workers loyal by simply disposing of the real people, and replacing them with Replicas.

Danziger now knew that the Council, and therefore everything, was controlled by only two or three people : the president of the Council, and his trusted allies. The board of directors was nothing more than a sham, because these people controlled the directors completely. And others down the rankings - anyone at all in a position of power was either completely loyal, or dead.

A surge of anger rushed through Danziger's body. What gave one person the right to control everything? He was suddenly glad to have been born a drone, and advancing his way through the ranks of the mechanics rather than politics. For if Danziger had been a bureaucrat, he suspected he would have been replaced long ago.

The Replicas were the perfect employee. On the outside, they appeared identical to the human counterparts from which their bodies were cloned. The mind, too, was similar. The original's mind had been copied just prior to their 'disposal', and then the Council had their fun in programming out the distasteful personality quirks and creating the perfect human machine.

So in essence, the Replicas were almost human. John Danziger suddenly realised that *he* had been a guinea- pig for the mind-copying process, and wished fervently that he could take back that moment in time. The extra credits were worth nothing when compared to the greater conspiracy at hand. And what if there was a clone walking around with *his* mind...nah, that idea was too bizarre to even contemplate. And too frightening.

Devon Adair had accidentally, and secretly, witnessed the beginning of a Replica's life. Danziger recalled what she had written, and shuddered.

"They injected something, some sort of microscopic probe, into the cranium. And suddenly, the lump of cloned flesh woke up, and she *was* the woman I knew. But there was a coldness in her eyes..."

It was a coldness, an emptiness that Danziger was so aware of now. He wondered if Devon saw it everywhere she went. Devon. He was worried about her. Five calls had gone unanswered...and even when Danziger stopped by her quarters, there was no one there.

Maybe the Council got to her.
Danziger was on his way right now to the records department, to access information on Devon Adair. Her records were locked from the drones (as was the case with most people) and a horrible fear was growing inside John Danziger.

Crazy as their relationship had been, he missed her. A lot. Devon, even with all her confusion and flaws, had brought something new to his life and Danziger had gradually realised that he *needed* to see her again.

A Council member rudely pushed past Danziger, interrupting his train of thought. He grimaced, wishing for the day when all people would get the respect they deserved. Including Devon.

He couldn't believe the way the Council - and Blalock - had treated her . She *willingly* participated in their VR project, and they had ended up abandoning her to a world of confusion and lies.

Danziger glanced up, and stopped. Striding towards him was Dison Blalock. As the anger brewed within Danziger, an anger and outrage at what had been done by *this* man to his Devon (my Devon?), he couldn't help himself. He punched Blalock in the nose.

And it felt damn good.
A collective gasp seemed to echo throughout the corridor as Blalock picked himself up from the floor, one hand over his bloodied nose.

"What was that for?" asked Blalock, surprisingly calm and controlled. "*That*," hissed Danziger, "was for Devon Adair. I *know* what you did to her, you monstrous..."

Blalock's face twisted into a grimace at the name and he looked at the blood on his hands. All of a sudden, Blalock lunged at Danziger, but the bigger man easily blocked his punch.

"Assaulting a Council Citizen...Devon Adair again...I'll have you in court for this!" Blalock shouted in an attempt to sound authorative, realising he had no hope of winning the fight.

Danziger ignored his words, and grabbed him by the collar instead. "You stay the hell away from Devon Adair. You hear me?"

Inexplicably, and even while under Danziger's furious gaze, Blalock began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" snarled Danziger, tightening his grip. Blalock's merriment only continued.

"I said," Danziger repeated, "what's so funny?!" He punctuated each word by shaking the little man.

Finally, Blalock told him. "Devon Adair," he gasped, "is dead!" Blalock was instantly dropped to the floor and Danziger stood there, in stunned silence. *No, that's not true,* his mind screamed. *That's impossible!*

"Oh God, Devon..." All rational thoughts flew from Danziger's head as he whirled and raced back down the corridor, not caring who he knocked aside . Now things were beginning to make sense - the ignored messages, the truth of fearing the Council, the emptiness he felt, and the terrible, consuming guilt of abandoning her when she was hurting so badly...

"Devon!" he shouted, hammering on the door to her quarters. To his surprise, the door slid open. It wasn't even locked. Fear pounding in his heart, Danziger stepped inside and discovered that nothing had changed. Nothing at all since the last time he'd been there, save a fine layer of dust that lay over the room.

She was really gone.

***

The warning lights flickered, and the woman frowned. There was another incident of aberrant behaviour in Citizen Blalock. Something, or someone, was causing undesired emotional outbursts within the subject, and this was very unfortunate. Perhaps Citizen Blalock should be considered a failure, and dealt with as such. The Council didn't want another situation like the last time, with the Adair woman...

***

Danziger had been at Devon Adair's computer terminal for what seemed hours. With a heavy heart, he studied Devon's records with intense scrutiny and discovered the awful truth - she truly *was* considered dead in the great database of the stations.

However, he refused to believe that it was suicide solely on the Council's say so. Danziger *knew* that Devon had discovered their secret, and if the bastards had killed her, there'd be hell to pay. Danziger intended to make sure of that.

He punched the wall in anger, wishing desperately that it was Blalock's head. There was no doubt in his mind that Blalock was a Replica, and a recent one, at that. Devon's report had detailed the absence of strong emotions within Replicas, although she suspected there were occasional situations the original personality could rear its head.

Like when Danziger had mentioned Devon to Blalock - his reaction was anything but typical of a Replica.

The door behind him suddenly whooshed open, and Danziger whirled to instantly crouch in a defensive position. But he needn't have bothered, for the person who stepped inside was an ally.

Yale.
Danziger awkwardly stood up, wondering what the cyborg would think of his impulsive actions; and how he would explain his presence inside Devon Adair's quarters. But the older man saved him the trouble.

"Mr Danziger," Yale greeted. "I expected to find you here sooner or later. It is a terrible tragedy indeed."

"How long have you known?" Danziger managed to say, his voice strained as he was unwilling to accept Devon's death.

Yale sighed heavily. "That is the point of confusion. I received the message, the one I passed on to you..." He broke off as he remembered something. "Was the information useful?"

Danziger nodded vigorously. "It was more than I ever dreamed we'd discover about the Council. I knew they were corrupt, but to have gone to *this* extent simply to remain in control is incredible."

"We live in a very dark time indeed," Yale said gravely. He crossed the room to stand beside Danziger, the door gently closing of its own accord . Yale noted that the man had been accessing Devon's records, and the information pertaining to her 'suicide' was currently on screen.

Danziger followed Yale's gaze, and sadly sighed. "I just can't believe that she's gone," he said. "Everything's so confusing...that fight we had the last time I saw her, and then discovering that she was involved in a lot more than I thought, and now...Yale," he said in a deadly serious tone, "do you think the Council killed her?"

Yale glanced around intuitively, even though there shouldn't have been anyone about to hear his next words. "I believe that is a very real possibility. There are too many discrepancies in the story."

Yale also had another theory concerning the enigma of Devon's behaviour during the last two years, but he chose not to voice it just yet. "Did you know that the suicide notice was only recorded after I began to ask questions?" he continued.

Danziger shook his head, and Yale went on. "I have requested to view her body. I am not a doctor, but I should be able to ascertain how she died ." Yale paused, and it was obvious that the idea distressed him greatly.

"Let me come with you," jumped in Danziger. He didn't know why he wanted to go see her...he'd had enough death in his life. But there was something pulling at his heart - a combination of guilt, regret, and sorrow. And he owed it to her to find the truth. For with Devon's help, the Council could be conquered and it wasn't fair that she would never see it.

***

Someone had been in his unit. Morgan Martin knew it the moment he walked in the door. Nothing seemed to be out of place, yet the sense of the intruder lingered, and Morgan feared that probing fingers had touched every article he owned.

Nervously, Morgan checked each room although he knew that the intruder would be long gone. Briefly, he considered the possibilities of who had been there, and quickly discarded many of them. Not a burglar - everything had been left in immaculate condition, and the door showed no signs of tampering. No, this reeked of an organised, systematic yet untraceable search. The Council.

"This is bad, very bad..." Morgan muttered to himself as he began to pace nervously. He was glad that nothing incriminating was stored in his unit, in fact, Morgan had devoted most of his life to staying as far as he could from trouble.

There was only one thing he had done (wait, make that two if he considered the diplomatic affair where he'd accidentally knocked his glass of wine all over the president of the outer stations...oooh, bad memory there). Morgan shook his head, they couldn't *possibly* be still holding that against him!

It had to be the alternative option - his foolish interest in the affairs of Devon Adair. After Kassidy *what a beautiful name* had approached him, Morgan's interest in Devon had been rekindled. Devon sought him out, Kassidy sought him out, and then mentioned Devon's name - there had to be some significant connection besides the Council's obvious paranoia with the woman.

Morgan hadn't been surprised to discover her dead. What had surprised him was his own reaction - he felt truly sad over the loss. And as he began noting the discrepancies in the report, a sense of injustice came over him and Morgan had vowed to keep an eye on the situation. He had decided to try and prevent it from happening again.

Perhaps that wasn't such a good idea after all. Devon's movements had been tracked from the very beginning (the file on her ran back several years , ever since the Eden Project was proposed). Now Morgan realised that surely the Council would track anyone who was tracking Devon.

And that meant him. Was he next on their list of problems to deal with ? Morgan wanted to run away and hide, but knew that he couldn't. He didn't have anywhere to go, for the Council had been his whole life.

End 5/9



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