Planet Mercury. Ergon Factory. Prisoner Detention Cell.
On Mercury, there are no conventional prisons, only special isolators hidden among the industrial facilities. Unremarkable rooms with sturdy doors where those who are deemed undesirable or too dangerous are confined. Ragnar walks down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing on the cold floor as the cell door slides open, revealing the arrested prisoners inside.
The cell is spacious, but its atmosphere feels dead and lifeless. From the corner of his eye, Ragnar notices the watchful gazes of the inquisitors—always alert, searching for a weakness, hoping for an explanation that might allow them to avoid the fate of those already labeled "enemies of the system."
— Here’s Captain Libert, — Ragnar says, his voice friendly. He quickly scans the prisoners and finally meets Libert's eyes. — Hello, my friend.
Libert, worn from the usual combat life, rises from the bunk, his movements sharp and tense. He’s tired, but still full of rage.
— What the hell’s going on? — His voice is hoarse, his eyes full of confusion and anger. — We came back from the raid as usual. And here we are, shackled and locked in this hole. Care to explain, Ragnar?
Ragnar steps forward, his gaze cooling, something new in his eyes—something beyond the old world he once lived in. He looks at Libert thoughtfully, as if carefully choosing his words before speaking.
— I don’t even know where to start… — His words sound like an indifferent confession, but there’s depth in them. He takes another step to get closer. — Tell me, Libert. What god do you believe in?
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Libert snorts, his face twisting into a contemptuous smirk, not believing this question matters.
— What god?! — He’s clearly irritated. — Am I some kind of Earth fanatic? Gods are for those who fear death. You and I have always been different. Or have you forgotten?
Ragnar doesn’t answer immediately. He simply shakes his head quietly, his eyes softening, but they’re filled with concern.
— I haven’t forgotten, — he says calmly, but his voice carries something important. — But times have changed. Now we live by the commandments of Hanaris. They’re simple: you cannot take control of another’s property, health, life, or time without consent. Any violation is evil. And evil… must be punished.
Libert laughs, his eyes igniting with fury.
— Do you even hear yourself?! — His voice fills with rage. — We’re a working tool of the corporation. I collect ergon, you collect debts. That’s how Mercury works. And you call this evil? The entire system depends on us! Vikar and Ivor built the empire with our help!
Ragnar shakes his head, his gaze growing firmer, his words more resolute.
— An empire built on pain and coercion can’t stand forever, — his words sound like a sentence. — Things are different now. We won’t judge by the laws of the old world. We’ll judge by new ones. By justice.
Libert clenches his fists, his face contorted with pain and rage.
— You call this justice? — His voice cracks with betrayal, as though deep down he senses that this is not so simple. — When those who served faithfully become the "scapegoats"?
Ragnar looks at him with sympathy, but his resolve remains firm.
— You’re justifying evil, Libert. You’re simply not ready to admit that you were part of it.
Libert turns away, fury in his eyes, his fists clenched white.
— No, Ragnar. I just know how to distinguish common sense from fanaticism. What you’ve become is not faith. It’s… it’s a virus. A plague consuming the mind.
Ragnar turns toward the exit, his back straight, his gaze calm but determined.
— Maybe. But if this is a virus, then it’s given me meaning. — He doesn’t turn back, his voice full of inner certainty. — Soon, there will be a trial over you. A real one. By the new laws.
— Whose laws?! God’s?! — Libert’s shout echoes through the cell, but Ragnar doesn’t pay attention. He leaves, and the door to the cell clicks shut behind him with a quiet but ominous sound.
