“No, Dominic, wait! Don’t you die on us!” I tried to help him but failed. His Adam’s apple jerked a few times. His head hung to one side. His stare glazed over.
Dead.
I couldn’t change that. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat. I wrapped Dominic’s body in Steel Mist and stepped aside. I avoided looking at Charon.
“Zander,” a few minutes later, Jurgen walked over to me.
“What is it?”
“I’ve checked the data he sent us.”
“And? Speak up, man!”
“These are the control codes to the Third Colonial Fleet. He gave them to us!”
* * *
The work space of the communications station was formed by three holographic images.
The first screen showed humanity’s fleet crossing the Kuiper belt, heading out of the Solar system — basically, going nowhere.
In another nineteen days, the Third Colonial Fleet’s on-board systems would relieve the current watch group, sending Vandal, Foggs, Novitsky and all the survivors of the Darg mission back into cryogenic slumber. The fleet’s communications stations would then kick back to life and transmit the identities of the next group of half-baked “colonists” to the Darg system via hyperspace.
I could clearly see what was going to happen next.
Badly damaged and drifting the outskirts of the Darg system, Eurasia wouldn’t be able to receive all the identity matrices. In which case, Founders’ equipment was going to automatically join in, using random respawn points — which more often than not were located in the wreckage.
Thousands of players would have to suffer the consequences of the “alternative start”. Believing they were playing a game, they would search for the game developers’ prompts in a desperate attempt to survive.
Not many would be lucky enough to live to tell the tale. There were few, if any, safe respawn points left. And neuroimplants knew no mercy.
“We need to deactivate the auto awakening program!” Foggs exclaimed. “Zander, at least my men aren’t new to this anymore! You can’t send them back into stasis! Who are you going to get instead?”
The mind boggles.
Who are you going to get instead? — the snappy phrase met the others’ silent approval, forcing me to take one step forward out of our serried ranks. No one had bothered to ask me if I was ready to accept responsibility for millions of human lives.
“Good idea,” Charon added his approval. “Zander, the Haash will join you! Argus is a big station. Surely we’ll find some room there for my people too?” he lowered his head, awaiting my answer.
I just loved it! A doomed human fleet and the few remnants of the Haash civilization — and all you needed to do in order to save both from extinction was work out the mystery of interstellar jumps!
Quest alert! New quest available: The Chasm
Skills required: Pioneer, Colonizer
Ability required: Broken Chains
Quest requirements met.
Two civilizations are on the brink of extinction. Their representatives have officially sought your help. Find a way to save humans and the Haash.
You’ve received 100 AP (Action Points)
Deadline: none
How weird. I couldn’t find any further information about those mysterious Action Points. What were they for? Did I really need them?
And I’d thought that the game was over! Why, then, would my interface jump back to life, offering me a new quest? Who’d issued it?
It didn’t really matter. I had no need for moral crutches anymore. “Jurgen, is it really possible to deactivate the awakening protocol?”
“I don’t know yet,” he answered in all honesty. “But I’m gonna try. The fleet’s data exchange channel is stable enough. I have the necessary access codes.”
He gave me a funny look. “Zander, may I ask you about something? Could you stop issuing me quests, please? There’s no need for this gaming décor anymore.”
I stared at him, uncomprehending. “What kind of décor?”
“This!” he sent me the screenshot of a system message he’d just received,
Quest alert! New quest available: Stasis
Contact the Third Colonial Fleet’s flagship and abort the awakening protocol, leaving the crew in cryo in-mode capsules in permanent stasis.
Time left until completion: 19 days 2 hrs. 30 min
“Jurgen, just do it!”
“Do you think that the Founders’ interface came with a quest generator?” he asked. “But this would mean that-”
“Sorry, man, can we discuss it some other time?” I said, unable to shake off a chilling, unsettling foreboding. Why was I feeling so restless all of a sudden?
“Charon,” I asked, “the remaining Haash back on your planet, do they have neuroimplants?”
“Nowr,” he snapped. “Every single one we had was implanted in the crew members of the reconnaissance ship.”
“And cargonite stores, did you find any?”
“Nowr. Our second ship was equipped with the Founders’ communications device. We had to find the planet and report its coordinates,” he lowered his head in sorrow.
“How long can your people last?”
“Three full orbits.”
“What, only three years?!”
“By now, the second ship should be completed,” I’d never seen Charon so agitated. “Everyone should have already boarded it. We don’t have a stasis technology,” he explained. “But we’re naturally capable of hibernating. By lowering on-board temperature, everyone should have already fallen asleep. The ship is located on the planet’s surface and protected by a force shield which is powered by the on-board reactor. The reactor will last three full orbits!”
It’s all right. We’ll sort this out, I told myself. Still, a chill ran down the back of my head. Not a pleasant feeling. Charon was only a wing leader. He wasn’t privy to the “sacred mystery”, as he’d put it. I still needed to make level 70 in Mnemotechnics to unlock my Global Network ability. Then I’d be able to scan the Haash system, contact their colonial transport and send them Argus’ coordinates.
I was too restless to think straight. Then again, all these funny sensations were part of me now. I’d better learn to live with them.
My gaze paused on the second holographic screen.
Within it, the light of our Sun was diffused, obstructed by numerous diamond-shaped objects. Very soon this cradle of humanity would sink into pitch darkness, just as had happened to the Haash’ planet as well as dozens of other worlds — once densely populated and now deserted.
We had no idea what kind of technology we were dealing with. Who made these star-trapping machines and why? What was the purpose of all the stellar energy they harvested?
They couldn’t have belonged to the Founders. Their nanites were too feeble — they would have crumbled in the heat of the photosphere. I had a funny feeling these weren’t machines at all. More like a cosmic non-organic life form — not necessarily sentient but highly prolific and power-hungry. If you maxed out the zoom, you could see tiny particles constantly leaving the large diamond-shaped segments. They dove into the ocean of solar plasma where they grew and replicated, then soared back up into the photosphere to form yet another segment.
* * *
The third 3D monitor showed identical panoramas of deserted cities, their tiered mile-long towers still consumed by the thick emissions. Our planet’s technosphere kept doing its job — and so it should, considering its extreme robotization levels.
I looked at the towers. A few of their windows were still glowing. Life still lingered behind those façades. “Kyle, I’ll need to have the Earth’s technosphere analyzed.”
“What exactly are you interested in?”
“How long will the cities’ reactors last? Is it possible to redistribute the existing resources? Can we organize robots into groups that would search for survivors’ in-modes and recharge them?”
“Aren’t we going to deactivate the game’s servers?” Arbido asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to kill phantom worlds instead? This way, NPCs will disappear and all the players will be subjected to emergency logouts.”
“To do what? To croak in the dying cities? To realize they’ve been left behind?” Kimberly snapped.
“But cyberspace is even worse!” Arbido offered.
Kyle sniffed his indignation. He kept casting adoring glances at Kimberly, his gaze naïve in its childlike eloquence. “We can’t switch off all the game worlds!”
“Why not?” Foggs asked.
“Because that’s millions of servers, safely protected and scattered all over the world!” Kyle exclaimed. “Some of them are located on orbital stations even. And most of them perform functions other than gaming! If we mess with them, the entire global network will collapse!”
“What about the Crystal Sphere?” Arbido insisted.
“Are you completely stupid? Don’t you understand?” Kyle was about to lose it. “Gaming worlds have merged! Reapers are everywhere! If we switch off the Crystal Sphere, they’ll survive anyway!”
“So you’re suggesting leaving it all as it is?” Arbido too got hot under the collar. “Let all those smart enough not to have bought into Phantom Server’s advertisement die slowly inside their in-modes?”
He was right. This was another problem we were facing, one impossible to ignore. I just didn’t see a solution. A forced logout would lead to death, chaos and disaster. I knew this better than anyone else. The kind of people we were speaking of had long denounced the real world. All they’d do, they’d log back in.
“Please don’t argue,” Kimberly touched her sword strewn with microchips. “No need to complicate things. I’m staying behind. Nobody touches the Crystal Sphere! Leave the servers on.”
“You nuts?” Arbido demanded. “What do you mean, you’re staying behind? Why would you do that?”
“Gameplay is still king. It evens the odds,” her fingers brushed the weapon's blood groove. The Founders’ runic script obediently glowed under her touch. The dull purple of the cargonite blade shimmered in waves. “This is our world,” she concluded in a soft but firm voice.
“But Kim,” Jurgen tried to reason with her, “the virtual worlds are merging! This process is irreversible — and unpredictable!”
“I know. This in my decision. I’m going back to the Crystal Sphere. I’ll see if I can find other survivors. I’ll give them weapons against the Reapers. We are Neuros. This is our world.”
The adoration in Kyle’s eyes spoke for itself. No need to ask this one about his immediate plans.
“We’re Neuros,” he echoed.
Kimberly smiled back to him.
I knew what she was thinking of. I knew the extent of her dreams. Whatever happened to virtual reality, there would always be a secret little location deep there somewhere. She’d be happy there.
But her path toward it would be rife with danger.
“Here, take this,” the translucent copy of the Founders’ navigator left my hand. “You can use it to locate your in-modes,” I added just in case. “I’m pretty sure Kyle should be capable of occasionally venturing into the real world to recharge them?”
“Thanks,” she gratefully accepted the copy. “I promise you we’ll find a safe place and reinstall all the in-modes there.”
Each of us was making our own choice.
Our lives had momentarily met only to diverge again, each path made of one’s own feats and desires.
* * *
“Got it!” Kyle exclaimed. “I’ve got access to the combat vehicle hangar!”
“Show me,” I said. “What have you got there?”
“Not much, but enough for what we’re about to do,” he switched the picture to the monitors, showing hangar after hangar of military assault and landing vehicles awaiting orders.
“Excellent. I’m sure you will need them. At the moment, we need a military flybot with a large cargo hold and a group of on-board serves.”
“I’ve got one just like that! Take a look,” Kyle switched to another camera view.
The vehicle looked very respectable. The latest military space model. Fully automatic. The data Dominic had sent us allowed us to enable remote task assignment — which I immediately put to good use.
Somewhere in the bunker’s depths cargo belts sprang to life. The sealed gate opened, revealing a separate in-mode storage room. A hundred and five capsules in total. Twenty of them were arranged in a circle in the middle of the room. The other ones — apparently installed later — formed separate sections divided by wide passages.
Everybody was there. Jurgen, Frieda, Ralph, the children. Plus a few other survivors — whatever had happened to their identity matrices, I’d no idea yet. Their names said nothing to us.
“Let’s load them all up.”
Serves had already received access to the in-modes’ personal life support modules and replaced them. What a relief. Jurgen seemed to have perked up too. Back in the Darg system, our friends had escaped death.
Twelve of the in-modes began their brief journey. Soon serves were already loading them on board the flybot. We uploaded a new course to its autopilot. First it would pick up Arbido’s capsule, followed by a brief stop at my house. Then it would begin a thousand-mile flight to the military space reserve base.
It looked like Arbido’s plan had worked, after all. Another couple of hours, then we’d be able to breathe freely.
“Zander,” Jurgen walked over to me. The nanites forming his body momentarily flashed a soft golden light as he’d received a new level. “I’ve managed to deactivate the auto awakening program on board Eurasia. Which means that we can keep the Daugoth clan members. I’ve also canceled the uploading of new identity matrices until further notice.”
“Have you found the Colonial Fleet databases?”
“I have, and I’ve already downloaded everything we need. Now we can build a remotely-controlled communications station on board the Relic.”
“Great job! Thanks! What’s your Technologist level now?”
“A hundred and two. But that’s thanks to their special learning modules. I downloaded them too!”
“Do you think they might have something for me?” I asked.
“You might be able to raise Alien Technologies 20 points at least. But Mnemotechnics is a problem, sorry. All we have is way below your level.”
“Never mind. I can always level it up with Liori and the Daugoths. We’ll use the new technologies to restore the Relic. Anything else?”
“You asked me about the military’s secret files,” Jurgen said. “I’ve got them. Why do you need the reports on the first twenty subjects?”
“I’ll tell you later. I need to sort it out myself first. There’re lots of things we might need to reconsider. Can we do it later?”
“As you wish. The data’s in my mind expander. Would you like me to copy it for you?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Think you can upload it to my Synaps?”
“I’d rather we waited till your in-mode is recharged. That’s one hell of an information overload.”
“No. Do it now.”
Jurgen lingered. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why? Do you know something?”
“I’ve stopped receiving feedback from your in-mode’s biomonitoring sensors.”
“Normal. You’ve disconnected them, haven’t you?”
“Not really. I just decreased the feedback. But now they’re completely dead.”
“When did that happen?”
“About an hour after your disappearance. We didn’t know it was possible to cross into the real world, did we? We just thought you got caught in some deformation or other. Kimberly did warn us that some of the testing areas weren’t stable.”
“All right, so the sensors are dead, big deal. Can’t see your problem. I feel okay. No need to overcomplicate things. Didn’t they have to hack my in-mode? The b
iomonitoring system must have packed up.”
“So you want me to send you the data? That’s your final word?”
“Yes. Enough about that. Just send it.”
By then, the in-modes had already been loaded on board the flybot. The loading bay closed. The craft reversed. The antigravity engines kicked in, lifting the flybot into the air. A diaphragm shutter opened up in the hangar’s domed roof.
Oh. The altitude was impressive. We’d left the technopark way below. Its structures looked like toy blocks.
Kyle and Kimberly walked over to us. “The Reapers are stirring. They’re trying to get to the reactor,” Kyle said, continuously monitoring the situation. “They might try to de-energize the bunker in order to bring down the force fields.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” I said. “The testing grounds are their only habitat.”
“Oh yes, they would,” Kyle said confidently. “The servers can last forty-eight hours on emergency power no problem. But the force fields will go down straight away.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“We need to leave. If they break through, we can’t sustain them. There’re only six of us. Not enough nanites.”
“Okay. Then I suggest you go to the communications station and get the data destruction under way. Once it’s done we’re leaving for the Crystal Sphere.”
“But what about our in-modes?” Arbido demanded, anxious.
“Yours will be picked up in a few minutes. There shouldn’t be any problems. The flybot has already cleared the Corporation’s grounds. The cities are deserted so I don’t think it will get into any trouble. We control the backup bunker’s systems. It’s ready to receive the capsules. The automatics will do the rest. That’s it! Let’s do it!”
* * *
Charon stood by the screen looking at the stars. “Zander?” he turned round at the sound of my footsteps.
“You shouldn’t have given him more exo.”
Black Sun (Phantom Server: Book #3) Page 22