Selena

by V Guy

  Malik and Evelyn watched them board, easing away as the exit sequence started.

  When the lights returned, Evelyn moved to the galley to wait. “You don’t like sending people out.”

  He shook his head.

  “Neither did I. It was nerve wracking.”

  “Well, you can’t get any more qualified than those two. All we can do is wait.”

  “What will you do about Selena’s master?” asked Evelyn. “He’s obviously rich and well connected. What if you steal her and he comes after you?”

  “He’d need to die; he’s too dangerous.”

  Evelyn frowned. “That will influence our ability to find her. She’ll know and make warning.”

  Malik turned away as he considered the problem. “It is a quandary.”

  The jumpers appeared at the wall. He knew what awaited. His posture slackened. “That’s a decision for later. I’ve another lesson with these two.”

  Evelyn sipped coffee and watched their silent interaction. Half an hour later, he emerged from his meditation and stiffened. “The team has arrived at the site.”

  He related Helen and Arturo’s entry and movement through the facility, presenting their progress on a projected schematic of the building. The markers stopped at the door to the chemical storage area and stayed for a prolonged period. “The door is secure.”

  She saw his worried expression. “Did they have problems with the other doors?”

  “No. This is a power lockout, mechanically and electronically sealed. From company records, it appears that nightshift employees were getting in and making a little chemical mischief. Management was rankled. Entry was restricted to normal working hours, and even powering the lock triggers alarms.”

  “Then they need to return during the day?”

  Malik visage darkened. “Apparently so. The locks are sturdy and difficult to bypass without causing obvious damage.”

  Mint and Pepper shifted on the wall, and he turned to listen. A non-verbal exchange passed, and his interested expression shifted to surprise. “Please don’t drop them.”

  Evelyn’s eyebrows raised. “What is it?”

  The two jumpers disappeared through the wall, and he made a chuckle. “We’ve discovered a way through the door.”

  Revelation came quickly. Her eyes widened. “Can they actually do that?”

  “They emptied entire ships at Salient, dropping the occupants in the substrate. Carrying Helen and Arturo from one side of a door and depositing them on the other should be trivial. The distance is short. If one jumper anchors the other, the transfer should be easy.”

  Her draw dropped. “We can hope.”

  “I know they can. They showed me.”

  The two jumpers returned less than fifteen minutes later. Malik observed the spiders and shook his head in disbelief.

  “Success?” asked Evelyn.

  He smiled. “Our people are proceeding to the Rumbler. The final compounds from this particular facility were in that restricted area. Two recipes remain.”

  Helen and Arturo made a timely return. Rather than appearing victorious, they were thoughtful when the hovercraft was readied for another excursion. Malik relieved them of their packs and moved to maintenance.

  Evelyn edged near to observe. “What was that like?”

  Arturo shook his head and frowned. “Next time we’re getting through without assistance. That’s how those spiders killed entire crews.”

  She was asleep during their second excursion three hours later. After three additional hours, her next day of work started, and the entire crew was present when she arrived in the infirmary. “Did you get a breakthrough?”

  Malik nodded. “Three sets of synthesis have been completed. One of the composite solutions looks promising.”

  “Like a cure?”

  “Like shorter workdays.” He arranged the injection rig and measured a dose of the solution. “We’ll evaluate this with our most extreme case. If she shows no ill effects and the treatment is effective, we’ll use it with everyone.”

  Nina and Violet arrived with the first six patients, and all of them paused upon seeing Malik. His morning presence in the infirmary was unusual. The first patient ran fingers nervously through her black, wavy hair.

  “Are we doing something different?”

  Evelyn motioned them forward. “We’re testing a way to accelerate the process.”

  “On whom?”

  “You. Everyone get situated; this day will be just as busy as all the others.”

  The women took their places, frequently glancing in concern at the targeted woman.

  Her exposure to the Creative moderator produced no obvious discomfort, and she eventually relaxed. After observing her status on the monitor, Malik moved to the hatch. “Hold to the current schedule. I’ll evaluate her during the day. If this technique is successful, aliquots for everyone will be readied.”

  Evelyn situated gear around her patient and checked the woman’s file. “What if she has a reaction?”

  “Then she becomes an instant priority. The slaver’s files indicated the treatment was mild.”

  “And you’re leaving me to deal with this?”

  Malik made a humored snort. “Eleven women await counseling; you aren’t the only person with something to do.”

  The woman’s treatment was declared a success late Saturday evening. Their intense schedule continued through the weekend, with each patient being treated with the implant moderator. The crew and initiates’ moods were raised throughout the day, and the hopes of shorter workdays left them looking forward to the upcoming week.

  ***

  Defeats frequently shadowed victories. Malik and Helen’s ventured to the Naval archives at Rhinehold and Olympus concurrently with the revolution in the infirmary. Pathfinder made a late evening return to Evaline afterward, descending through leisurely, wintry powder to replace the decoy holding watch at the spaceport.

  Malik moved to service the faithful vehicle, captured in the top-level hanger, as Evelyn was leaving the infirmary. “You need to reconsider your attitude toward the paladin,” she said.

  He made a snort and looked at her in discouragement. “Apparently. Selena’s capabilities are astonishing. I know the ship John Milton existed, I’ve touched Dr. Jekyll crew’s minds, and I’ve seen the ship’s logs. Suddenly, John Milton and Sunfire are gone. They were never officially commissioned, entered a channel, or paid licensing fees. They were my best link to her, and now they’re gone.”

  21: Admiration

  Day 713: Xist, Cheonia

  Kilam surveyed Spring City’s new world showcase from an overlooking balcony. His protective detail hovered nearby, seemingly unremarkable in comparison to the recently constructed buildings. Much of the empire’s business required his presence elsewhere and he was, as his other avatars roamed under disguise to manage academies, farms, and guilds without fear of harm. The primary avatar representing Kilam remained near the palace under heavy protection. One reason he chose this location was because it was the boundary between high and maximum security. The second reason walked through the instantly popular living museum before him and approached a restricted entry beneath him to the left.

  He continued his current task, calling projections to appear before him even as he discreetly observed Kroes’s approach. No hostilities were anticipated. Two new mages arrived to lurk in the shadows regardless, an additional squad of paladins took stations nearby, three more assassins awaited under cloak, and a palace dragon teleported near and morphed to pose as a serving woman. His visitor strolled casually along the balcony’s edge from his left, pausing multiple times to peer over the railing.

  “You boosted the number of your attendants,” she said, stroking the railing’s carved surface. “Do you fear me that much?”

  “It’s war,” replied Kilam. “Nothing binds you to peace.”

  She scowled. “This isn’t my first visit. Am I worth an army?”

  “You’re worth several
.” He entered a fresh set of numbers into the control pad, prompting another canton to be displayed. “My opponents continue to find creative ways to trouble me. You could be among them.”

  Kroes was genuinely offended. “I don’t need a virtual game to trouble you.”

  Kilam made a snort. “Isn’t that the truth.” He minimized the display and turned her direction. “To what do I owe your company?”

  “You left out ‘the pleasure of’ from that statement. I like the plaza.” She grasped the railing with both hands and gazed admiringly at the tastefully arranged walks, gardens, shops, and fountains. “No one else on this world tries to be a quarter as creative, yet this area is for the local populous alone.”

  “And for people who demand access to everywhere and everything.”

  “I’m special.” She smirked as she watched the people below. “This better fits the style of your architecture than that massive crystal palace.”

  He grunted a rare agreement. “My people weren’t even minutely interested in the history of crop development or the stages of military, cultural, and agricultural advancements. They do appreciate food and beer, however, and the shops below allow them to sample consumables from the occupied lands, all while walking beneath the architecture of those same cultures.”

  Kroes stared in fresh amazement at the buildings. “I didn’t realize you could copy all that.”

  “Specialized builders, called architects, observe, record, and assimilate the structures. Specialized cooks evaluate the food and modify it, adding appropriate spices to make it pleasing to an empire acclimated to excellent cuisine. Designers, artists, artisans, and craftsmen round out the complete capture of the culture.”

  She made an inquisitive glance. “Do have time to do a job?”

  He hesitated. “This war has become boring; I might be able to fit one in. Did you get your people?”

  She nodded. “You terrified them.”

  “They’re CSA. They deserved it.”

  Kroes paused to contain her response then turned away to examine the crowds. “You made this extravaganza to enliven the war.”

  Kilam shrugged. “I did it to give the war a fresh purpose. There are attributes of the war that require me to stay sharp. They introduced new ores to the game, which my most capable miners extract from their captured lands and my metal smiths learn to work. Expert farmers evaluate new crops, herdsmen maintain the captured fauna, and arch mages test different types of captured power crystals, which were also illegally introduced. A variant of assassins, called thieves, have successfully stolen interesting gear from their players.”

  “Stolen?”

  He smiled. “When you pounce on a player with as many as thirty paladins, mages, assassins, necromancers, and dragons, you often distract them sufficiently for an expert thief to ease away with valuables. Once you have that loot, you can reverse engineer any stolen composites. Reverse engineering opens technology pathways, allowing the creation of a Cheonian variant.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “That’s almost unfair.”

  “Cheating isn’t fair. All my actions are legal. I’ve created rudimentary and mostly ineffectual whips, my teachers and trainers are subject to low level boosts, and I’m learning to grow minimal-capacity power crystals.”

  “I’ve never heard of whips.”

  “They’re another cheat. Any captured character is drained of attributes, life, and skills, and the holder of the whip is boosted. Link the weapons with an empty power crystal, and powerful opponents can be quickly reduced. I’ve lost dragons because of them.”

  Kroes appeared worried. “Can you use them?”

  “Only those I create. The more whips captured, the quicker the reverse-engineering process, and the more accelerated my discoveries. My thieves have become particularly efficient. The other side switched to using summoned variants.”

  “And you can’t reverse-engineer spells.”

  He shrugged. “Magic users can. Cloaked mages listen to their spell casters and learn. Given enough time, their cheats will quite legally become mine.”

  She moved to the console after he disabled the projection. “Why bother? It’s just a game.”

  “It’s an incredibly detailed, possibility-laced simulation that most users are too lazy to explore. Have you seen the inscriptions on the doors of tombs and the walls of ruins throughout Xist?”

  She nodded uncomprehendingly.

  “They are words and phrases of a language richer than any real one. Learning the speech of the supposed ‘ancients’ means new ideas, new technologies, and maybe even discovering the keys to the foundation of the entirety of Xist. This world is rich.”

  “But why? It’s still just a game, never mind how rich.”

  His expression soured. “It’s the game I’ve chosen to play. I like possibilities, and this place is blessed with them. I’ve even begun developing my connected XGalaxy and Xeno Realm accounts to gain access to other ancient holdings.”

  She turned her gaze across the railing. “I don’t understand you. Isn’t reality enough?”

  “I’m a slave and entitled to nothing. Why shouldn’t I appreciate a world where I can have everything?”

  “I’ve not thought about it quite that way.” Kroes paused and looked back at him. “You understand that you aren’t entitled to this either?”

  Kilam scowled. “A slave plays the game better than all the thirteen-year-olds and career gamers who have nothing else to do. Does my excellence offend you?”

  She shook her head and made a crooked grin. “Don’t be insulting. You’re more obsessive than a professional or a juvenile with too much time. Most people just assumed you were a highly active group account.”

  “Multitasking helps.”

  Kroes made a snort. “Good motivation does, too. You dismembered the physical structure of three cantons and mostly returned the lands to their original state—you’ve always been deadly serious about this.”

  A status panel was opened for one of the abandoned cantons. “The people sent to displace the resident population returned to raise the population of my own, the dismantled cantons’ raw materials, structures, and cultures were imported to enrich and build my empire, and a more easily managed and defended garrison of mining communities was left behind. I call it smart.”

  “All done to help you win.”

  Kilam cocked his head. “Do I sense disdain? Isn’t winning your goal? I can win this, assuming you permit it.” He narrowed his eyes. “Will I get the time? Or will I be prematurely disconnected?”

  Her smile faded. “I have jobs for you. The first one is a man called Schmidt. He’s a handler. I need to know why he sent five operatives to almost certain deaths on Catricel. Secondly, those operatives were looking for something valuable. I want you to find it.”

  “Value is relative. Many things can be valuable for entirely different reasons.”

  Kroes presented a data notebook. “Like a collectible. This is information on Schmidt.”

  “What are my operational boundaries?”

  “None. Use your judgement.”

  “Are they worth Arturo and Bomani’s freedom?”

  She considered the regent. “That’s two people.”

  “It’s two jobs.”

  She paused then nodded and shrugged. “I’d need serial numbers.”

  He shook his head. “Their chips have been rewritten, and all their implants have been removed. The only equipment they contain is of my design.”

  She scowled. “Their genetics mark them as ours.”

  “I altered entire sequences to make them unique. Except for their size, intelligence, and agility, no part of them is Central Security, not anymore.”

  Kroes’s lips tightened to a small frown. “Then I can only offer my word?”

  “I suppose, but all of this is conditional upon your integrity. I’m agreed if you are.” Kilam narrowed his eyes. “I’ll inform you when I find something.”

  She disconnected. Another visito
r successfully navigated this domestic-only region of his realm. The second figure approached from his right after her exit, wearing an air of indestructibility equal to Kroes’s.

  “You were patient,” said Kilam, clearing the numbers the woman idly entered into the console. “Are you friend or foe?”

  “I am neither.” The older man in a fashionable dress coat stepped forward between a pair of unconcerned paladins. “Which was she?”

  “She could be either.”

  The mystery man stepped closer, but confusion showed on his visage. “That’s what I thought. You seem unruffled by my presence.”

  Kilam sized him. “You are a figure of impunity and power, unlike Kroes, who only has impunity. Fighting either of you would be pointless, but for entirely different reasons.”

  “But you don’t know me.”

  “You followed her. Only a game master could have done that, because this area was designated to be private. You however, are not simply a game master, because she would’ve gone to the highest levels to get permissions for entry. Considering her caution concerning me, I’m guessing you were instructed to involve as few people as possible.”

  Metric Jones, the director of Xist, nodded. “Then you know her. We both know her.” He stood at the nearby railing and gazed outward. “I guess you’re wondering why I let your enemies cheat?”

  Kilam nodded.

  “You’re a good player, exploring options the majority of the players never consider. The cheating increases your creativity, and a great number of game administrators hope you kick their collective butts.”

  Kilam hazarded a slight grin. “Then you don’t mind me conquering the world?”

  Jones made a crooked smile. “After you’ve finished dominating the planet, you’re to return to your canton and abandon the new territories.”

  “Explains why you don’t mind. Where’s the reward in that?”

  “Additional tech and increased character limits were unlocked, and you say, ‘where’?”

  Kilam frowned. “Those users will return and be equally hostile. They blacklisted many people because of me.”