Dominic turned pale. “No need to aggro me, man.”
“Well, I think that these comps contain a human identity. It may be mangled and fragmented but it still might preserve certain skills. It has to be someone from Argus. You built him into the computer!
Dominic kept a broody silence. What could he say? Most likely, he’d indeed known nothing about the experiment. Still, making a neurochip called for at least 100 in Mnemotechnics. Question: how had the military space forces managed to organize their mass production?
“How many serviceable implants were found on the alien ship?” I asked him.
“Twenty...”
* * *
The first twenty.
Of them, Jurgen and Frieda were the only survivors. The others had died; still, their identity matrices had been pieced back together from their neurograms, crumb after laborious crumb.
They’d left Kimberly alone — she hadn’t lasted on Argus long enough to have completed the necessary development branches. Jyrd had founded the Outlaws. That left sixteen people whose names I didn’t know.
“Dominic, I want you to keep an eye on the Reapers. I’ll try to find out who it was speaking to us.”
My mind faded as I opened mnemonic communication channels, searching for available connections.
A gust of gray wind swirled around me, twisting and pulling me into a rapidly forming vortex.
This reality resembled shards of a broken looking-glass, with many of its fragments missing. I could see a cramped personal module, its bulkheads haphazardly patched up. The air was cold and acidic.
The creature hunched up in a corner couldn’t be called human anymore. Its flesh and its cyber modules had long fused into each other.
I knew how it must have happened. They couldn’t have had enough neurogram fragments to build a fully-fledged identity. A few years ago, they hadn’t had enough experience with these things, filling in the blanks with all sorts of technological data. The result was repulsive. This was a case of appearance reflecting reality.of the First
“What’s your name?” I crouched next to him, unwilling to tower over him.
“Kyle.”
“Kyle, did you call me up? Did you ask me to help you?”
“I’m cold. They keep coming and telling me what to do. I can’t say no. This is what they leave in return,” his prickly glare shifted to a small messy pile of slimy flesh in the room’s opposite corner. “I won’t eat this. I can’t leave. I remember nothing... almost...”
New quest alert: The Last of the First. Save Kyle.
I had very little time. The mnemonic channel I was using could have been detected and tracked back to me at any moment.
“Do you remember them?” I created a few fully-fledged visual images.
“Her,” his servodrives screeched as a biomechanical hand pointed at Kimberly. “She’s good.”
“Would you like to leave?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Then you’ll have to help me.”
“How can I? They’ve locked me up here. I don’t remember much,” he repeated ruefully, then backed off into a dark corner, his outline merging with the gloom.
I shuddered. He'd died on Argus to become part of the research center’s equipment. Here they’d developed and tested the new respawn point technology later used on Eurasia. But that hadn’t been enough. The number of neuroimplants they needed kept growing and the only way to make them was by using Object Replication.
“Kyle, I’m sorry I can’t bring you back to the past,” I said. “No one can. But there’s always the future. Do you get my point?”
“Out there,” his wandering stare fixated on the thick sealed door. “There’s nothing but subzero vacuum out there. But they did promise me! They said if I made enough machines they’d let me go!”
My eyes stung. My throat rasped. I focused, straining my mind and using it like a pencil rubber to erase the surrounding room and the frost covering its steely walls. I forced the boundaries of his world apart, sharing the crumbs of my own memories bringing him sensations of warmth, of movement, of freedom.
His ugly face cleared up. His upper lip rose, exposing his teeth. He must have been trying to smile.
“Kyle,” I created a mental replica of the devices’ diagrams. “Do you think you can build them?”
He knew what I meant. His scary smile expired. His stare focused.
He nodded, shrinking and muttering something. Then he bared his teeth again. “What’s the catch?”
“There are none.”
My next step was born of desperation. I opened up my mind and let him in. That was the only way to make him trust me.
The creature’s eyes lit up. He drew toward me, fingering through my thoughts like a rag-and-bone man. It felt disgusting but I didn’t show it. He was welcome to see and to feel them. But if he tried to take anything from me-
He snatched his hand away. “The door isn’t easy to open. It’s frozen solid.”
“Kyle, but this is only a piece of software! The people who locked you up are all dead. Everything’s changed. Here, take this,” I forwarded him the scanner file. “Think you can suss out how the research center controls work?”
He wheezed, studying the data. “Will I forever remain like this?”
The fragile ice surrounding the hatch cracked, revealing its outline.
“I’m afraid so. I can’t help that. We might try and change your avatar but-”
“Hush!” he pressed a finger to his lips, fear and amazement in his stare. What could have alarmed him so?
His stare alighted on the Founders’ navigator on my wrist. “May I?”
“I can’t remove it.”
“You don’t have to.”
He touched it. The device sprang to life, its every icon lighting up — even those whose purpose was still a mystery to me.
Kyle mumbled something rueful and stepped back into the corner. Judging by the creaking sound, he must have opened a locker of some kind.
“Here, take it. You might need it,” with his withered hand he proffered me a small marble studded with spikes. “Don’t lose it. I want to leave. I’ll help you. Everything’s clear to me now.”
I was forced out into the darkness.
* * *
The narrow service tunnel was too cramped to move. Next to the hatch that was slightly ajar, Dominic crouched watching the Reapers.
My throat was rasping. My eyes watered. My health had plummeted, quickly and unexpectedly. I couldn’t think straight. What could have caused it? Could it have been my in-mode finally packing up? Seeing as the biomonitoring sensors were switched off...
The prickly little marble lay in my hand. What might Kyle have found about me by touching the Founders’ navigator on my wrist? Why was his gaze full of compassion?
Your neuromatrix has been temporarily stabilized.
An emergency module connected.
This was all I could understand from the system message written in the strange symbols of the Founders’ ancient language.
“So, have you found out anything?” Dominic asked. “Whose voice was it?”
I wanted to reply — but couldn’t. My breathing had seized. Everything went momentarily dark.
“Zander?” Dominic swung round, his gear catching on a bundle of cables which rattled.
“I’m okay. Let me get my breath.”
You’ve received an ability: Broken Chains. Your mind-
This was all I had time to read. The noise had attracted the guards. One of them must have noticed the hatch in the ceiling.
“There’s someone in there!” he shouted.
“Attention all personnel for an incoming arrival.”
This booming voice didn’t belong to the cybernetics! This was Kyle’s mind breaking free!
“Dominic, don’t let anything surprise you,” I wheezed a warning.
In a sudden power surge, the lighting panels exploded.
The threads of our lives all led to
this respawn point located at the heart of a classified terrestrial research center.
With a flash, the power shield reactivated. In a hiss of compressed air, clouds of green mist filled its interior. I heard Charon’s growling and Foggs’ exclamation of surprise.
The system was in overload. The rattling speakers crackled with a shaking voice,
Warning... your available nanite stocks are down 99%...
I shoved Dominic aside, pushed the hatch open and jumped down into the room.
The Reapers opened fire. My friends were losing nanites even before they’d had a chance to complete their materialization! The sudden jump had disoriented them. They had no weapons, either.
Kyle — what was taking him so long?
An emerald flash filled the room. Arbido screamed and recoiled at the sight of the ugly squat cyborg.
Quest alert: The Last of the First. Quest completed!
You’ve received a new level!
The gunfire refused to stop.
Finally I intercepted the deactivation code used by the Reapers. Still, I couldn’t use it: I didn’t have enough time to decipher it.
I invested all my meager power supply into expanding my personal force shield. I used it to cover Foggs and Kimberly while activating Replication using the cargonite brought in by the Reapers. Clouds of nanites escaped through the vents in the floor.
“Kyle, take control over the nanites!”
Barely visible wisps of mist headed toward him.
Arbido shrank back and stumbled, rolling down the stairs right under a Reaper’s feet. Charon grabbed the first thing he saw — a steel stand — and darted to his rescue. He invested all his strength into the blow that sliced harmlessly through the air. You can’t harm a nanite creature with that sort of weapon.
“Stop them!” a voice bellowed.
Jurgen was trapped within the power fields. He'd had no chance of ever getting his bearings.
Shots rang out from above. This was Dominic joining in the melee and turning three of the guards into a mass of viscous incandescent jelly. Gunfire rattled back, ripping through the ceiling panels.
Kyle scowled, looking around him. What was taking him so long? Had he lost it?
Finally, the nanites he controlled split into several groups. Dull flashes flickered in the dark.
Object Replication level 30!
Kimberly lunged forward. She picked up the sword he’d made and assaulted the nearest guard with a swinging blow.
An inhuman scream echoed from the walls.
The Reaper exploded in a cascade of neurograms. The gunfire choked in mid-burst. Dropping the gun, the Reaper’s body crumbled into nanites.
I activated the Call, pouring the dead enemy’s nanites into Kimberly. The girl was having a hard time. She could use an extra layer of armor in battle instead of the rags she had on!
Wheezing, Charon picked up another of Kyle’s swords. His fingers entwined with the weapon’s servoids. The plasma edges of the blade glowed as it arced through the air.
My mind expander was at its most efficient, allowing me to take in every detail of the fight. I now lived in milliseconds; I could see the energy streams as the liberated neurograms washed over us with their gentle farewell before disappearing for good, fading into our surroundings.
The airlock shuddered. Its sealed doors began to part. The Reapers had received reinforcements!
I managed to replicate nanites one last time, then hit the gap between the slowly parting gates with Plasma Blast. That allowed Foggs and Jurgen some brief respite in order to collect themselves, grab the weapons and enter the dogfight.
Blood rained from the bullet-riddled ceiling.
“Arbido, quit skulking! Go upstairs and check on Dominic!” sparing words, I sent him the Major’s mental image. Kimberly, Charon and Foggs struggled to contain the ever-increasing numbers of the enemy.
Kyle, block the airlock and locate the elevator controls!
He stood immobile, frozen. His hesitation might cost us dearly.
Kyle, wake up, man!
He turned round and raised his upper lip in a sinister grin. Limping slightly, he headed for the control stations.
“Attention all personnel for an incoming arrival,” the speakers wheezed.
They were trying to get to us from both worlds but they weren’t gonna make it! There were no available nanites left here: I’d made sure I’d used up all the available supplies by reinforcing my friends who kept losing nanites to the transmitters built into the Reapers' ammo.
We fought for dear life — a merciless battle that was taking our all, without illusions, at 100% authenticity. Each direct nanite-destroying hit exploded our minds in an agony of pain. Charon had been grazed by a burst of submachine gun fire. Another had passed through Jurgen’s arm. Foggs had received two slugs to the head. Kimberly was battling to sustain the enemy alone now.
I hurried to her aid. Foggs was struggling back to his feet without success. A neuromatrix failure, that much was clear. Charon instinctively grabbed at his injured throat, unable to breathe, but he was sure to overcome it soon. Jurgen’s right arm hung listlessly.
“Kim, back off!”
She performed a rapid combo and recoiled, putting some distance between herself and her opponents.
The green mist followed her, its bright plumes changing hue as they swirled through the air.
I used several Plasma Blasts to burn a path for myself. Taught by previous experience, I tried to control their outbursts but still the amount of released energy was tremendous. My power shield stayed activated non-stop.
“Kyle, close the airlock! Seal the lab!”
More Reapers continued to arrive. The floor’s main tunnel was consumed by smoke. The lighting panels grinned with shards of plastoglass. The walls melted, surrendering to the extreme temperatures.
My supply of nanites dwindled rapidly, each blast taking tens of thousands.
Behind my back, Kimberly was helping Charon while Jurgen dragged Foggs deeper into the room.
“Zander, get out of there! You’re in my way!” distorted by interference, Kyle’s voice echoed in the earphones.
The lab’s massive doors shifted, closing. The hermetic locks began to rotate. Too late! I retreated, spitting out plasma. My shield had expired; the heat singed my face. I could see the Reapers' nanites penetrate the thick bulkheads. This enemy didn’t accept defeat.
The Founders’ finest technologies, initially destined to create, had been turned into a weapon. We had misinterpreted their legacy and we couldn’t do anything to change it anymore. All we could do now was fight. Till the last breath; till our last nanite.
I struck back with Self-Sacrifice. The silent metal shrieked as the Reapers' bodies that were seeping through the walls froze in mid-flow, decorating the bulkheads with a bas-relief of their distorted figures.
The silver dust of deactivated nanites swirled underfoot. Jets of carbon dioxide pelted us from above as the fire extinguishers attempted to put out the ignited wiring. Springing to life, extractors howled.
“Retreat back to the center!” a hoarse voice shouted.
I recoiled. A thin layer of Molecular Mist lined the inner walls. Its incandescent fog swirled, flashing with numerous activations of top-level Object Replication as Kyle created power shield generators, sealing the lab.
* * *
“Zander, where are we?” Kimberly looked around herself with curiosity, her eyes still filled with the agitation of the brief but lethal combat.
“Phew,” Foggs sank to the floor. “Looks like we’ve done ‘em.”
“Help me, someone! He’s dying!”
We all turned to Arbido’s voice.
I leaned over Dominic. Unlike us (sounds spooky, doesn’t it?) he was made of flesh and blood. His armor suit had failed to sustain the hail of pulse gun fire, letting three of the slugs through. The exo’s post-effects were the only thing that still supported the weak spark of life within him. Still, his body was to
o exhausted to keep going. He needed an urgent blood transfusion.
“Look around you, quick! There must be some containers with medical supplies here somewhere!”
Charon didn’t understand me but Kimberly did. She nodded and disappeared into the smoke. Jurgen cast a suspicious glance at Dominic but said nothing and walked back to the control consoles.
Foggs attempted to scramble to his feet but couldn’t. Neuromatrix damage was similar to shell shock. He would need some time to recuperate.
Arbido wasn’t much good, either. All he could do was groan and fuss around.
Kyle, however, was a different case entirely. For a while he hovered out of my view, waiting for me to look away. Then he lunged at Dominic, his steely fingers closing around his throat.
“Why did you do this to me?”
Dominic wheezed. The fibrillose structure of his armor had caved in. His eyes were now popping out with the strain.
“Stop it!” I forced the cyborg away. “He’s not our enemy!”
“They promised me! They promised!”
“Kyle, please! Get a grip! Dominic didn’t hurt you! You don’t even know him! Do you?”
“No, I don’t,” Kyle’s voice fell, then rose to a shriek again, “It hurt so much! I hurt! I was cold! I had no one to talk to!”
Kimberly defused the situation by coming back with a first-aid kit from the emergency supply she’d discovered. She shoved me a fully charged life support module. “Go help him,” she mouthed. “I’ll sort this out.”
Administering first aid to Dominic was a question of seconds. In this day and age of high technologies — provided you had the right equipment — all it took was locking the clamp on and plugging in a couple of jacks.
“Communications station,” he wheezed. “Zander, I beg you...”
No idea why he was so desperate to get there. Not that I minded, really. The in-modes rooms were on the same floor.
Black Sun (Phantom Server: Book #3) Page 20