by James Walker
Vic remembered a nearby ruin where nothing interesting happened except at midnight game time, when a wailing ghost appeared. The rest of the time, the ruin was generally deserted. That ought to make a good location for a secret meeting between rebel agents.
He struck off in the direction of the ruin. The path took him past peaceful pastures, through a section of shadowy forest, across a long stone bridge that spanned an enormous chasm, and into a cluster of rocky hills. A couple of times, passing players tried to recruit him into their party, but he brushed them off by saying he had already arranged a meeting with some friends. He also ran afoul of a few hostile monsters, but being experienced with the game and having chosen a potent character class, he dispatched them without difficulty.
At last, Vic arrived at the ruin, which was little more than an ancient stage surrounded by stone columns, all nestled in a small valley. He climbed onto the stage, seated himself on the stump of a broken pillar, and waited.
Vic traced the virtual sun's accelerated path through the sky as it traveled westward and began dipping below the jagged mountains, lengthening the shadows cast by the columns and plunging the world into a deep contrast of black and crimson. Before long, it would be midnight game time, and the wailing ghost would emerge. More than likely, some number of players would appear, aiming to complete quests related to the ghost's appearance. That would be an annoyance.
Well, with two other searchers, there was only a one-third chance that he would be the one to make contact with the Greenwings agent, anyway. It probably wouldn't be an issue.
A shadow fell across Vic while he waited. He sprang from the broken column and spun around to behold a hideous creature that towered far over his head. The beast's main body consisted of a long tail, segmented like that of a worm. The tail eventually blossomed into a bloated torso covered with armored plates and spines; from this mass grew a bony neck that terminated in a bulbous head with bulging, glowing eyes and a gaping maw full of needle-like teeth.
“What the hell?” Vic exclaimed.
He had never seen a monster like this before. It must have been a new addition to the world since the last time he had played. But this monster looked much too fearsome for a region designed for beginning players. Confused, Vic flicked his gaze to the threat indicator in the corner of his vision.
Nothing. It didn't even register on the indicator.
The monster leaned over Vic and let out an ear-splitting howl. Acidic bile dripped from its mouth. Vic leapt back, barely avoiding the deadly spittle, and began casting an attack spell. It would be better not to die if he could avoid it, otherwise he would respawn in the middle of the starting town. That was the last thing he wanted.
Vic completed his spell and aimed the resulting disintegration sickles at the monster. As soon as the projectiles drew near their target, they dissolved into a jumbled, pixelated mass, then vanished. The monster was unscathed.
“What?” Vic exclaimed. “Is this thing bugged? Great, the server's flaking out on me.”
He was just about to try casting another spell when the entire world began flickering and dissolving into static. Before his very eyes, the virtual world disintegrated into nothingness, leaving him floating in a black void. Him—and the monster.
“This isn't possible,” he whispered fearfully, staring at the hideous creature before him. He realized now—he should have noticed from the beginning—the stunning detail on the monster was much higher fidelity than even the most cutting-edge rendering engine was capable of. The creature was real.
The monster let out a deep, guttural growl, then opened its mouth wide, corrosive bile dripping from its teeth, and lowered its maw toward Vic. He tried to invoke every action he knew, but the server wouldn't respond; he kicked and flailed, but he was floating helplessly in a featureless void. There was nothing he could do to escape his impending demise.
Suddenly, a blinding light swelled from his right. It grew until it enveloped his vision, forcing him to close his eyes against its searing radiance. Once the inside of his eyelids grew dim, he slowly cracked one eye open and saw that the monster had vanished. He looked frantically from side to side and found the source of the light floating at his side.
It was a humanoid shape bathed in radiant light, its features cloaked in a blurry halo. The only thing Vic could make out were three crimson eyes on its face, staring at him with... what? Loneliness? Curiosity?
Slowly, the three-eyed creature extended one arm and reached out to Vic. He hesitated for just a moment, then reached out with his own hand, seeking that of his savior, intending to take hold of it—
*
Vic's hand stretched out to reach nothing. He was back in the virtual world. He stumbled off the side of the stage and fell onto his face. As he lay on the ground, dazed and confused, he heard the metallic clank of armored footsteps approach, then stop a few paces away.
“Um, are you all right?”
It was an aristocratically-accented woman's voice. Vic pushed himself up and got unsteadily to his feet. He found himself standing before a tall, slender woman with flowing golden hair, clad in armor, with a sword strapped to her belt. She was looking at Vic in bewilderment.
Irrationally, Vic's mind filled with rage at the sight of her. He was still struggling to comprehend what had just happened to him, but he felt certain of one thing. He had been mere moments away from forming a connection with a foreign intelligence, something that wanted to know him; that he wanted to know in return. Now, more than ever, he was drawn to it with a powerful urge he could not explain. And this interfering woman had broken this connection.
Vic struggled to calm himself. He knew that misdirected anger would accomplish nothing. He balled his hands into fists and looked away from the woman so the sight of her digital face would not further incite him.
“Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I'm fine. Just fell asleep where I shouldn't have, is all.”
The knightly lady laughed. “Oh, come on. You weren't waiting that long, were you?”
Her choice of words caught Vic's attention. He looked at her in surprise. “Hm?”
“Oh!” The woman's hand shot to her mouth, her expression mirroring Vic's surprise. Her manner became more guarded and she asked, “Say, um... Do you know why the ancient Therans revered Saris?”
Her words penetrated Vic's still-reeling mind. This was important. He had to give the correct response, or she would think she had made a mistake. The silence between them became protracted as Vic fumbled for the right answer, the woman's eyes widening with uncertainty.
“Uh,” Vic stammered, finally latching on to the right words, “because he overthrew the demon lords.”
“Ah, that's right.” The female knight crossed her arms, her manner relaxing. “You know more about old myths than I thought.”
That was the last part of the code phrase. Vic took one last moment to compose himself, then extended his hand in greeting. “Corporal Vic Shown,” he introduced himself, “Quicksilvers cell.”
The woman accepted his hand. “Sergeant Cena Northwood, Greenwings,” she said. “Boy, you were out of it, weren't you? For a second, I thought I'd somehow traced the source of the code broadcast to the wrong person.”
“Sorry,” Vic mumbled. He released her hand and looked away from her again, his former anger now giving way to embarrassment.
“So, the Quicksilvers, huh?” she said. “Colonel Artega and Major Cutter's unit?”
Vic nodded. “That's the one.”
“Well,” Cena smiled, “it's an honor to meet someone from the famed unit. You guys are pretty much legends around here.”
“Hang on just a second,” Vic said. “I need to message Major Cutter and tell him I've made contact—”
“Major Cutter himself?” Cena exclaimed. “You mean he's here, in the cybersphere? Can I talk to him?”
“I guess,” Vic replied. “Here, I'll give you his login credentials so you can send him a private message.”
/> Cena beamed with delight as Vic gave her Pierson's credentials, then she disappeared into a private message sphere. Vic stared at the sphere in bemusement. His thoughts returned to the bizarre vision from a few moments ago. The rational part of his mind told him it was probably a hallucination, that the strange feelings he had started experiencing on Port Osgow were intensifying and he should get his brain checked out by Esther. Maybe the head wound he had sustained during the fight against the Spacy augment had been more serious than he realized.
But another, deeper part of his mind rebelled at this notion. He had felt a strange connection to the Cage from the moment he had first seen it, before any possible physiological cause for his visions. Besides, the Cage had been stolen from a top-secret Theran research laboratory. It was not such a great stretch to believe that it contained something capable of attempting mental communication.
Vic was trying hard to rationalize his experiences, he knew. He wanted the visions to be real.
And yet... Did he, really? Every brush with the foreign intelligence had been accompanied by nameless horrors. First, there had been the vague feeling of being drawn into an empty vortex. Then, monsters in the water, strange creatures disintegrating before his eyes. And now, an abomination intruding upon the virtual world, seeking to devour him alive.
Maybe going crazy was the preferable option, after all.
After a few minutes, Cena emerged from the private conversation sphere and turned to Vic. Her beaming expression pulled him out of his reverie.
“That was amazing,” she declared. “I can't believe I got to talk to the legend himself.”
“Yeah, great,” Vic replied.
“Oh, sorry.” Cena looked abashed. “I guess I should be more considerate of your condition. From what Major Cutter said, it sounds like you guys have been to hell and back.”
“You could say that,” Vic acknowledged. “So, did you and the major come to some kind of arrangement?”
“Yeah, we did.” Cena put one hand on her hip and tossed her long, golden hair. “We've got a procedure for linking up with other SLIC cells on short notice. I just need a little time to contact my superiors and set up the meeting. We should be ready by the time you guys rejoin your comrades.”
A notification in the corner of Vic's vision informed him of a chat request. It was from Pierson and Eliot.
“Just a second,” he said to Cena. “I'm getting a message from Major Cutter.”
Vic activated the private message sphere. The virtual world of the Grand Fantasy Universe dissolved and was replaced by a psychedelic cube occupied only by Vic, Pierson, and Eliot.
“Good work, Corporal,” Pierson said. “We've arranged a meeting with Sergeant Northwood's superiors. I've got the coordinates. The mission is a success.”
Eliot sighed and scratched absently at the side of his head. “Man, you could have taken a little longer. I was right in the middle of watching a great match between the Overkills and the Havoc Hearts. The score was tied and Welch had just gotten a breakaway, when...”
“Cheer up, Harper,” Pierson interrupted him. “We might be stuck here in Hongpan for a while. If that's the case, you'll have plenty of time for watching gravball.”
“You sure I can't stay here a few more hours?” Eliot asked. “It's not like you need me for your little chat with the Greenwings brass.”
“I said there will be time for that later.” Pierson turned back to Vic. “It's time to log out. Dr. Klein's a first-class hacker, but every minute we spend in here increases the chances of her tampering being discovered. We'll head back to our temporary H.Q., link up with the others, then make our way to the meeting site.”
“Understood,” Vic said.
Pierson terminated the connection. The prismatic cube vanished and Vic found himself back in the fantasy world, standing in front of Cena.
“All done?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Vic replied. “Major Cutter is insistent that we don't dawdle, so it's about time for me to log out.”
“Me too,” Cena replied. “Got to arrange things with the boss. Say, I'll be at the meeting too, so I guess I'll get to see you guys face-to-face.”
Cena waved, then vanished in a flash of light as she logged off. Vic lingered for just a moment, staring at the stage where he had experienced the bizarre vision. Then, just as the virtual sun dipped beneath the horizon, plunging the fantasy world into nightfall, he brought up the menu and selected “Log Out.”
24
Vic and the others returned to the abandoned apartment complex. After the contact team informed Guntar of their success, the Quicksilvers packed up their gear and departed. As before, they moved in small groups, using their communicators to track each other's locations. Their route took them deep into the most dilapidated sectors in the outer districts of Hongpan.
Once, during his childhood, Vic had ventured out of the safety of his ward and entered the slums on a dare. He had been astonished by the desolation and terrified of the obvious lawlessness. Though he had seen only a few starving mendicants hiding in the alleys between ruined buildings, the streets nearest the ward being otherwise deserted, he could still remember the sounds of distant gunfire and terrified screams; sounds that were never permitted to pierce the tightly controlled cocoon of the wards.
The old, unwanted memory surfaced unbidden because the neighborhood in which he now found himself reminded Vic very much of those slums.
Within the heart of this forsaken sector, the Quicksilvers found their destination. The coordinates Cena had provided pointed to a crumbling factory. The structure's utilitarian facade adorned with vulgar graffiti stood like a testament to the futility of civilization. A pall of apathetic despair hung over the scene like toxic air.
If Vic's companions were as unnerved by their surroundings as he was, they gave no sign of it. They gathered in a dark alley next to the factory and took a quick roll call. Then they located a door, drew their sidearms, and cautiously entered the factory. Sustaining 75% losses over the past several days had made the survivors wary.
The factory's grungy interior was choked with husks of old machines that had been torn apart by vandals and thieves in search of valuable components. The rebels swept quickly across the ground floor and verified that there was no sign of traps. The factory appeared deserted. Perhaps, despite Cena's assurances, they had arrived ahead of their counterparts.
At that moment, the lights inside the factory came to life, nearly blinding the rebels, and a commanding voice rang out.
“Welcome, Quicksilvers. I've been expecting you.”
All eyes swept the factory until they alighted on a group standing on a catwalk several meters over their heads. At their forefront stood the man who had shouted his welcome. He wore a green-trimmed SLIC officer's uniform over a compact but athletic build. His scholar's glasses and brown hair cut a little longer than military standard contrasted with his aura of martial command.
“General Rick Childers,” Guntar bellowed. “Saris' sake, what are you trying to pull with that dramatic entrance? You're like the villain from a crappy serial drama. Get down here so we can talk.”
“All right,” the general smiled. “Just being careful, Colonel. Not unlike yourselves—storming the factory armed to the teeth without so much as a howdy-do.”
Childers and his companions made their way around the catwalk and down a set of stairs. Guntar and Pierson came forward to greet them.
“It's good to see you both again,” Rick said. “I wish it was under better circumstances. Sergeant Northwood indicated that you've been through some rough times.”
“That's the understatement of the year,” Guntar grunted.
“By the way, I don't think you've met the new commander of our heavy infantry company.” Childers turned to the officer on his left, a thin man with sharply chiseled features and a midnight-black complexion. “This is Captain Ekwueme Tinubu. He made quite a name for himself as a security contractor before he saw one too many
Theran atrocities and decided to join up with us.”
“A pleasure, Captain,” Pierson replied.
Childers beckoned to a door behind him that led to a control room with windowed walls. “Well, I'm made to understand that your situation is urgent. Why don't you fill me in on the details in private? Our troops can get to know each other while they're waiting.”
Guntar and Pierson followed Childers into the control room and closed the door behind them. Vic could see them talking through the windows, but he could hear nothing of the conversation. While they spoke, the rest of Childers' group came forward and engaged the Quicksilvers in conversation. Gradually, the feeling of tension that had clung to the Quicksilvers for so long subsided as they realized they were among comrades.
“Hey, is Corporal Shown here?” a voice rose above the general chatter. “The guy I talked to in the cybersphere.”
“Right here,” Eliot called, appearing from out of nowhere to wrap one arm around Vic's shoulder and point vigorously at him. “This is Vic Shown.”
A young woman emerged from the group of Greenwings. Compared to the golden-haired, slender elegance of her virtual persona, Cena Northwood's true appearance gave a strikingly different impression: pronounced hourglass figure, toned limbs, freckles, and brown hair in a messy bob cut. The one thing she shared in common with her knightly avatar was her height, being at least as tall as Vic; but she was awkward in her size, with ungraceful movements.
“This little guy?” Cena looked at Vic in surprise. “For some reason, I was expecting someone a little more imposing.” While most colonists sounded slightly rustic to Vic, Cena's provincial accent was particularly thick.