Exactly. There was only one data communication channel left, but its traffic had grown tenfold. The source of the signal was still outside the effective scanning range. Did that mean that my opponent was nothing but an avatar, controlled by an identity safely out of my reach?
Didn’t that sound familiar. The only difference was that the world had shifted on its axis. Its poles had inverted. Just like him, I used to be a bored top-level player, fed up and asking myself whether the meager XP and penny loot were worth taking on another mob. I used to give them the same kind of look he was giving me now.
All right, but who was he? Definitely not a Reaper. They never declined battle, always on the prowl for yet more neurograms. They attacked you when they saw you and didn’t bother to stare their victims down.
The fact that all this was happening in real life made me uneasy. I was surrounded by the deserted towers of buildings and technoparks. The sun continued to creep toward its zenith. The dark diamond-shape spots on its surface were still there.
You might think I was taking my time because I was too scared. That’s where you’re wrong. All of the above had only taken a few split seconds. Time seemed to have compressed. Droplets of molten cargonite hit the damp tarmac, rolling, steaming and hissing.
The blast detonated a couple of blocks away, spewing an ash-white cloud of debris into a sky permeated with flames.
The degree of surprise in the fake “Corporate worker’s” stare was enormous. He definitely didn’t view me as an insect anymore. Apparently, he hadn’t expected to come across an opponent in possession of the Mnemotechnics skill. He'd failed to realize that I’d been using their communications channel as a homing beacon for my nanites who had been programmed with System Failure and Critical Damage.
You’ve received 2,385,000 nanites!
Now configuring the Replication matrix. Your integration into the environment has increased to 100%.
You’ve received a new level!
Your Mnemotechnics skill has grown 2 pt.!
New ability available: Colonizer
New nanite control code available!
New ability available: Self-Replication
* * *
The fire at the parking lot went out quickly.
I felt remarkably well. The Founders’ interface worked just fine. All my skills and abilities were active. I had plenty of nanites at my disposal; still, it was probably time I ditched some old habits. I created some comfortable lightweight clothes for myself, restored my personal navigator module and stopped at that — for the time being.
I had to think and act fast. I checked the mnemonic communication channels. The planet’s mnemosphere responded with a dull silence. All channels were dead; my friends were still out of range.
I scanned the nearest buildings. Immediately the world around me lit up with a multitude of signatures. The top floors were occupied by some large spacious halls. Below them, the density of the equipment filling the floors grew; power consumption also grew respectively. No people anywhere.
Finally, on Floor 50 I discovered some rooms housing in-modes. My hopes soared, only to crash the next moment as the in-modes’ equipment reported critical failures.
The fate of the mysterious sniper was still unknown. I’d have loved to have known who he was. A lucky survivor from among the Corporation staff? A player whose identity self-replicated in nanites? Had he managed to escape the Reapers’ attack?
In any case, I had to find and study his weapon. I glanced at a nearby tower. One of its floor-to-ceiling windows was broken. That’s where he’d fired from.
Ten floors below, my scanner offered a clear view of server rooms. Just what I needed! Nanites would help me gain quick access to their equipment. So that’s where I needed to go, then. I would first study the position of the anonymous sniper; then I’d enter the city network and connect to my own apartment. I’d have to hack the nearest vending machine. Using their principle of molecular replication, I’d create some exo and cartridges. Then I’d get a few service robots off the street to help me recharge my in-mode and run a quick maintenance.
But first I had to sort out my new skills. In this situation, the Founders’ interface was my sole survival tool.
First off, I opened the Mnemotechnics tab.
After all the fiddling around with nanites while repairing the interstellar communications module on board the Relic — and especially after building all the personal navigator devices — my Mnemotechnics skill had grown 5 pt. Still, the Active Shield ability was highlighted in gray.
Requires an implanted artificial neuronet module
I had one, didn’t I? I’d been saving it in case my in-mode failed completely. It looked as if now was the time to use it.
I activated the artificial neuronet and allowed it access to my mind expander. I concentrated on my sensations but it seemed okay. The loathsome identity of the ancient AI had apparently been exterminated.
Your Active Shield ability has been activated.
Now redistributing nanite groups.
Excellent.
Let’s have a look at the skills I’d received by crossing into the real world.
Pioneer: you’ve completed your first independent journey from one star system to another.
I smirked. So Darg didn’t count then, did it? I wonder why?
I kept reading,
Upon arrival on a new planet, you will receive a new ability: Interaction.
Both the degree of your integration into a new environment and your ability to interact with it directly depend on the numbers of nanites under your control. Try not to waste them: unexplored planets offer few available replication sources.
Suggestion: Use your personal navigator device in order to search for automatic stations and stocks of replication source materials prearranged by AI suppliers. If your navigator fails to locate such stocks in a star system, proceed with extreme care. You might need to use Object Replication to create a recon probe and send it in search of any potential sources of cargonite. Failure to obtain them might result in your being forever stuck in an alien world!
Suggestion: Use your personal navigator device in order to communicate your coordinates to the AI of the central network node and set up a timeout period. Upon its expiry, your identity matrix will be restored from backup at your point of departure.
Which, if I understood it rightly, was Phantom Server!
Amazing. What a shame I didn’t have an identity matrix backup! Besides, the central node of the ancient interstellar network had long become a myth. It was probably long gone, destroyed like all the Dargian stations.
Colonizer. You currently have over 2,000,000 nanites under your control. If you would like to allow other space travelers access to the new world, create a navigational beacon and set up an arrival point. Please bear in mind that you need two or more nanite colonies in order to support an identity matrix. Each new arrival will necessitate three nanite colonies, not including the nanites required to recreate the travelers’ physical appearance. In order to receive their spaceship, you will need plenty of cargonite stocks, a communications station and an AI responsible for the travelers’ materialization.
Each navigational beacon, resurrection point or wormhole exit you create raises your status in the Colonizers Council.
Warning! If a planet you’ve discovered already hosts sentient or pre-sentient life forms, proceed with caution. You will need to consider any potential consequences of your every action and their possible effect on the indigenous civilization. The Colonizers Council may hold you accountable for any fragrant interference affecting the evolution of endemic species or any other acts inconsistent with the Council Code.
Please note:
If you would like to open a planet for free unlimited visitation, at least 90% of its surface has to include nanite deposits. This would guarantee complete interactivity, allowing any traveler or even his or her identity matrix to engage with the new environment.
* * *
I like discovering things. Even in my past gaming life, I loved solving complex non-linear quests, enjoying the challenge of unraveling their riddles one step at a time. But this ray of truth glimmering at the edge of understanding was akin to a shattering informational blow.
I could finally stop wondering how we’d managed to interact with physical objects back on Darg or how we explored space stations, confronting alien invaders.
Nanites were the answer! We’d had no idea of their main and primary function!
Nanites were the mediator between an identity matrix and the real world. This was how the Founders made the entire Universe interactive!
The Founders’ AI-controlled avant-garde fleets had visited star systems which they then impregnated with nanites. Scattered in space, nanites automatically sought the elements necessary for their self-replication, after which their masses landed on planets and switched to energy saving mode, patiently awaiting their activation for millions of years.
A “traveler’s” arrival would activate them. The fact that the network’s creators had been long gone was irrelevant. The nanobots can’t tell the difference between identity matrices: a Founder, a Haash, a Dargian or a human being are all the same to them. And that includes in-game monsters infected with original neurograms.
A shiver ran down my spine. Nanites didn’t care. They would support any identity matrix at all. They had no idea of the millions of years that had elapsed; of new civilizations flourishing on once virgin planets — civilizations which had already evolved and invented their own cyberspace and neurocomputers, having learned to build and digitize their own fantasies.
I cast a look around. The harpies were still circling the sky.
Our dreams, our myths — the Founders’ technologies had inadvertently brought them into being, allowing them to flood the real world.
Too late to try to change it back. I couldn’t even imagine the number of star systems visited by the ancient AI-controlled fleets delivering cargonite to places which would have never had it otherwise.
Did that mean that the disaster that was engulfing Earth had been predetermined long before our ancestors had learned to control fire?
My fingers touched the navigator, lighting up a few icons of the outer ring.
Navigation beacon: not detected
Arrival point: not detected
Wormhole exit: not detected
Would you like to colonize the planet with nanites?
I snatched my hand away. The symbols of the ancient language faded obediently.
* * *
The corner of the nearest building had collapsed. A few of the structural beams listed, reaching across the abyss toward the opposite tower. A perfect shortcut.
Trying not to look down, I ran the whole length of the shaky walkway and jumped down into the collapsed room.
Its floor was littered with broken plastoglass and concrete debris. All furniture had been swept into the opposite corner. Nothing of interest.
I walked out into the deserted corridor. A damaged light switch sparked in the silence. The walls and ceiling bore occasional traces of fire damage. Puddles of water on the floor were framed with the recognizable white crust of chemicals from the automatic fire extinguishing system.
The office next door was virtually undamaged. Its ex-owner had lived in a world far removed from our cramped capsule flats. You could probably billet a hundred people in the enormous — by city’s standards — space he’d had all for himself.
Water cascaded down an installation of terracotta terraces at its center, pouring into a small artificial pond inhabited by fearful bug-eyed little fishes. The pond was surrounded by real potted plants.
The room’s molecular replicator — one of today’s must-haves — didn’t work. Its casing was deformed and had been ripped off in places. The room’s walls looked gray and bare compared to its lush décor. No wonder: normally they’d be covered with holograms but now that power was down, their meticulous design was gone too.
What was there on the floor?
I crouched. Fresh drops of blood led from the broken window to the door. So that’s where the lone sniper had fired his second shot, then. That’s where he’d been wounded.
I followed the trail to the spot where the mysterious sniper must have stood for a while, holding onto the wall. His wound was serious. He'd lost a lot of blood.
The door was open, its lock shot out.
The familiar rustle of a pulse gun being cocked came from inside the room.
“Hey! I’m a friend!” I stepped away from the door just in case. His weapon was extremely dangerous in my state.
“Name yourself,” his gargling throat wheezed.
“My name won’t tell you anything.”
“Piss off, then. I know all my friends. And my enemies won’t get me here.”
“All right. I’m Zander.”
“What’s your nickname?” I heard the sound of metal against plastic. He had the doorway in his crosshairs. “Give me your squad number or leave now. You’ve got nothing to gain here. I have no nanites.”
All right. He must have taken me for a Reaper. Why wasn’t he shooting, then? Was he waiting for me to appear in the doorway for a positive kill?
The sounds behind the door ceased. I didn’t trust this silence. Still, nothing seemed to happen. I waited for a while but couldn’t hear a thing from inside.
I had to chance it. I had no desire to waste my time hovering in the corridor.
I sacrificed a group of nanites to create a copy of myself. It was low-resolution but it’d have to suffice.
My nanite twin stepped into the open door. No shooting followed. The nanites forwarded me information and returned, forming an extra protective layer over me.
I entered. The room was small, barricaded with piled-up computer terminals. A man was slumped behind them. He wore the uniform of a space forces Major. His helmet lay on the floor nearby. His face was gaunt and pasty, his chapped lips pursed together. He looked about forty or forty-five. Blood caked in his prematurely gray hair. His eyes were closed.
I crouched to study his wounds. They didn’t look good. Two bullets had breached his armored suit. One was stuck in his right upper arm, the other in his chest where the multilayered fabric of his suit had already been damaged.
I ran a quick scan. The Major was still alive. I had to remove the bullets, stop the bleeding and dress his wounds but I had nothing to do it with. No surgical tools, no dressings. All I had was nanites.
But what if I used his own gear resources?
His life support module proved to be completely dead. All cartridges empty. Same with the automatic first-aid kit. He had no metabolites. A more thorough search revealed three more holes in his suit. The wounds below them had already healed. The guy had had it rough in the last few days. Hadn’t we all.
He was dying. My medical skills were rather symbolic but I had to do something!
Supporting his head with one hand, I ran the other over his wounds. Nanites flooded in, streaming 3D pictures of the wound canals. I acted on a hunch, sending direct mnemonic commands to patch up damaged blood vessels. Luckily, all I needed to perform these minute surgeries was a clear-cut mental image and a mental command. I focused on microscopic ruptures on the 3D model, marking them, then activating the Restore From Sample command.
The bleeding seemed to have stopped. Now the bullets. On my orders, the nanites began to utilize the deformed slugs. Did it sound like I was repairing him? Well, what else could I do? I wasn’t a surgeon!
It was a good job he was unconscious. I don’t think he’d have appreciated my first aid techniques.
Whew. The bullets were gone. What next? He was still too sick. For all my help, he might die without regaining consciousness.
Should I use exo?
Well, what other options did I have? I thought I’d seen a molecular replication machine in one of the offices but I wasn’t sure it still worked.
I activat
ed Piercing Vision.
There it was! Its casing was ripped off — a mob’s work, judging by claw marks. Let’s have a look what’s inside.
The cartridges were there. The machine was out of power, a few of the connectors broken, but its core was undamaged. I might try and repair it, seeing as I had its scheme in my Technologists Clan database.
I reached for the Major’s gun and removed the power unit. The nanites picked it up and transported it to the replicator.
Excellent. Now I had to repair the broken connections. Then I’d try to upload Novitsky’s formulas to the machine’s memory. They just might work.
A dry click made me flinch.
The gun’s muzzle touched my temple. The Major’s hands shook with the effort.
“Put it down,” I said. “It’s not gonna work. Don’t exert yourself. Better tell me your name.”
Slowly he lowered the gun and crawled back to the wall. His eyes couldn’t focus. “Fuck you...”
Exhausted and frustrated, he had taken me for an enemy.
“I’m not a mob,” I said. “I didn’t escape one of your test labs. All right?” suddenly I felt angry. Why is it that two human beings can find it so hard to come to an agreement? It had been so much easier with the Haash!
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.
“Surprise me,” the Major croaked.
“I’ll try. Just let me do my work,” I focused back on the nanites. “What’s your name, tell me.”
“Dominic,” he struggled to stay alert.
* * *
I kept nothing back from him. The brief story of my life seemed to have perturbed him. He definitely knew of the events I’d mentioned.
“So how do you like my side of the story?” I finally asked.
He didn’t reply, just glared at me with suspicion. His standard-issue holographic sleeve patch sported an additional small icon. I knew what it stood for: Deep Space Communications.
Black Sun (Phantom Server: Book #3) Page 16