“That’s great and all that they are riding north, but we are riding north as well, and we’re much closer,” I tell her. “We may be able to do something before Florin and Broken get here.”
“I need your help.” She lifts her fiery finger and points it at me. “That is why I have brought the three of you together.”
It’s then that I notice flames flickering in the distance. It takes me all of three seconds to realize that more pyro afflicted are moving towards us.
“We are helping,” I remind her, “and what’s with the backup?”
“Florin and his army are now in the swath of land between the Eastern and Western Splits. I will command an army of the afflicted to meet them. I will also utilize the Meticans, as I can extend control over their population through their new leader, Lady Desdemona. But I can’t control Player Characters, which is where you come in.”
“I can’t control people either,” I remind her.
“It will be very difficult to take on Florin and Broken together. I believe you three will be able to overwhelm Broken’s magic, and when you do, I need you to take the scepter.”
“You’re putting a lot of faith in us, which I can appreciate, but still.” An idea comes to me. “Hey, if you can control all NPCs, why don’t you just have some ants or something steal it while he’s resting?”
“You will need to kill him, and take it from his person. It is the only way.”
“And do what with it, exactly?”
Even though they are still far away, the burning people along the perimeter have me on edge. The pyro afflicted are truly cursed, even if they now have a leader. I can sense their heat, their fury.
“You will destroy the First Artifact by throwing it into the source code bomb. I believe this may be the only way to stop the spread of the bomb.”
“All of this seems crazy,” I say as the afflicted circle around us, their shared warmth reaching my face. They stand poised on their heels, ready to attack when instructed to do so. “So now we’re going to war, and once we get the First Artifact, we’re supposed to just toss the scepter into the bomb, into the lava that is the Red Plague?”
“It is slow moving,” Lothar reminds me. “It could work.”
The Obelisk nods. “When I made the First Artifact, I poured an unnecessary amount of algomagic into the scepter, enough to affect the game-time continuum. I sealed it in the statue, only after I was certain its powers were dormant.”
“And now they’re not?”
“Unfortunately not. Broken reactivated the First Artifact. I believe tossing it into the source code bomb may reverse its course. The bomb has already taken Lucre and has moved on to the northern coast of Tagvornin.”
“I just don’t see how going to war with Talonas and getting the scepter will help us. And trust me,” I clench my fists together, “there’s nothing I want more at the moment than to take the fight to the governor. But I’ve had enough of trusting these feelings, these personal quests for revenge. Last time I tried that, I lost Wolf, and in the process of bringing back Wolf, Sam has suffered greatly.”
“I’m fine, Oric,” Sam says as she places a hand on my shoulder. “And if this is what the Obelisk thinks we should do, then we should do it. What else are we going to do? Ride north and yell at the source code bomb?”
“I wasn’t going to yell at it.”
“Then what was your plan exactly?” the Obelisk asks.
“I figured the plan would come to me at some point, as our quest progressed.”
“It has progressed as of now.”
Quest update!
The Obelisk has asked you to aid her in battling Governor Talonas and an Arcane Warlock named Broken. Ride south, join the war, and help her secure the First Artifact.
Chapter Eight: Warp Rider
“We can’t stick around here,” I say after the Obelisk presses past us, followed by a growing army of the pyro afflicted. A sinking feeling in my gut reminds me of just how skeptical of all this I really am, how futile I believe our newfound mission will be.
The burning bodies walking all around me only add to my apprehension.
Lothar brings his sandaled foot up. He picks at his toe for a moment, finds a splinter the size of a small twig, and tosses it over his shoulder. “I understand you are reluctant, Oric,” he says, oblivious to the moving fire people all around us, “but I believe we should have faith in the Obelisk.”
“And why’s that?”
Wolf trots over to Lothar, Sam still on his back.
The Hourglass Mage hasn’t said much since the Obelisk left, likely as creeped out as I was by seeing the army of flaming undead. Well, undead might not be the correct term, but that is what they look like, and since they can’t be reasoned with, they are not far from zombies.
“The Obelisk knows things that we don’t know,” the giant explains. “She sees everything at once, experiences all things in real time as they happen, yet this ‘real time’ isn’t linear. She lives in the present, the past, and the future up to a certain point. The thing you just saw was merely a manifestation of her.”
“What about the dragonfly version of her I saw in Hashmonean?”
He shrugs. “I am unfamiliar with your experience there.”
I touch my neck, my fingers pressing into the scar I received from the vampiric mermaids. “Well, and I know you agree with me here, Sam, I think that what we are doing is foolish. And seriously, I’m not trying to rain on anyone’s parade here. You know I like going to battle as much as the next guy. Wow, that sounds stupid, but you get my point. This just seems impulsive, especially for an NVA Seed.”
Sam’s eyes are steady on me. “What choice do we have?”
“We can ride north and disobey her order. Or was it an order? It didn’t exactly feel like that.”
Lothar scoffs. “Disobey the Obelisk? Ha! That’s the worst idea I’ve heard all day. Really, Oric, I don’t understand your apprehension.”
An image of Drachma’s burning Canal District comes to me and I swallow it down. “I have my reasons. And besides that, what will having the First Artifact do? What if it’s nothing more than a glorified scepter?”
Lothar shrugs. “She said she didn’t know, or at least it felt that way.”
“Let’s just do what she requests,” Sam says with the finality I’ve come to expect from her. “It is her world; if it implodes then we find a different world.” She looks up at Lothar. “Sorry, you know what I mean.”
The giant bites his bottom lip. “If this is what the Obelisk wants, and I die serving, then I die serving. Now, we need to begin heading south, but it’s also getting close to dinner time.”
A huge boar tears out of an abandoned field. It chases five snow rabbits, their tails fluffy white. The six creatures skid to a halt before us and die.
“Ha!” Lothar claps his hands together, which causes Wolf to yelp. “Dinner is served!”
(^_^)
After making a fire pit and gathering wood, Sam works on a stew using the rabbits. I take care of cleaning the boar for Lothar, and as I strip the beast of its meat, the giant relays to us a Taelian tale about a blind goblin who thought he was an elf.
As I have noticed before, giants seem to stay away from any type of vulgarity, be it in their language or their actions. The Taelian giants aren’t the type to terrorize unless they are provoked, which halfway explains the Busty Gazongas piece, but doesn’t quite explain why she’s squirting milk.
Even the story Lothar relates to us about the goblin who thought he was an elf features this famous milk bukkake scene, yet the reason why she’s turned on her breast hydrants is nonexistent. I get the feeling I should ask him about it, but I hold off, knowing all too well that the explanation that may follow would be draining.
There’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere.
The night brings some snow, and after we’ve eaten, Lothar and I gather more brush to add to the fire.
We’re now about an hour south of
where we encountered the Obelisk. I don’t quite know the sleeping arrangement yet, but if Sam isn’t looking to cuddle, I can always cuddle up with Wolf and my lavender cloak.
You’re a loser, Oric.
“Yeah? Fuck you too,” I whisper to the voice in my head. Sam sits across from Lothar, who is on his meditations box again, the fire’s reflection flickering across his face.
Sam snorts. “What was that?”
“Nothing, continue.”
“So as I was saying, it is called OMIB porting. Are you familiar with it?” she asks the giant. The crackle of the fire and the shadows dancing on Sam’s face and body add a sense of surrealness to the scene.
“OMIB-porting is a way to travel through the Proxima galaxy to another world.”
“OMIB?” I ask.
The giant beams down at me. “Ah, let me catch Oric up. OMIB, or Orthogonal Matrix Inverse Base, is the technical term for the galaxy that connects all Proxima worlds. It is tethered to the various Proxima worlds and their inhabitants’ digital neuronal autoconstruct system, or D-NAS.”
“I was aware, but thanks for clarifying everything.”
“Glad to help, Oric,” he says. “Also, a friend of mine has spoken extensively about OMIB-porting, so I’m quite familiar with it, and if I may add, keen to know more.”
Sam’s Blueshift wristband materializes on her wrist. “My ship, the Warp Rider, exists in the OMIB, which as you said resembles a galaxy.” She looks at me. “You know, stars and whatnot.”
“I’m aware of what a galaxy is.”
“Good, just double-checking. My ship, and ships like it, travel from Proxima world to Proxima world through the OMIB, the galaxy. We are not able to actually land on most worlds, which is why we use our Blueshifts to port to and from our ship. It is OMIB-porting because we are porting to and from the OMIB.”
“Beam me up Scotty-style?” I ask.
“Yes. There are two types of OMIB-porting. One is world to world, which is what I think you were referring to, Lothar. So I could port directly to Tritania or Steam or Dead City, just examples. There are too many to list by memory.”
“Dead City?” Lothar asks.
“A zompac world.”
“Zompac?”
“Zombie apocalypse, it is a genre that, like vampires, becomes popular once every decade or so.”
“Got it.”
“The other way to OMIB-port is to and from my ship, which is what I’ve invited Oric to do tonight.”
“That’s right!”
Jealousy paints across Lothar’s face. “I want to see a ship.”
“I know you do, but like I said earlier, the Warp Rider isn’t large enough to accommodate you.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll stay here with Wolf, two lonely NPCs.”
Wolf barks in response. He stands, moves over to the seated giant and drops onto the ground before his meditations box.
“You’re a good wolf, Wolf.” Lothar bends over and runs a finger along Wolf’s side.
“You said it was called the Warp Rider?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s her name.”
“Why have you never mentioned that before?”
Sam shrugs. “You never asked.”
“Good point,” I say as I rub my hands together. “So, we doing this or what?”
With a belly full of gifted rabbits, I’m ready for a change of scenario. This gets me thinking of logging out a couple days back, and how bizarre that whole experience was. From meeting Proxy to actually being in my real body. I was desperate then.
Will you ever log out again, Oric?
I ignore the question and grin at Sam. “What do I need to do to port with you?”
She approaches me and holds her hand out in a photo perfect way. I reach out to her, and as our fingers touch, a spiral of light whips up my wrist.
Into a vortex I go, where I’ll stop nobody knows.
Blips of color and balls of lightning rush around me. Gravity reverses, and I’m suddenly traveling in the opposite direction, into a pulsing rabbit’s hole, and from there, a quick right through the crimson sky of the Upside Down.
I open my mouth to scream only to find myself standing in a large, oval room. It’s as if no time has passed at all, as if I’ve always been here.
“Whoa … ” I say as I take in the details of the room, including a bed with silver sheets and cylindrical pillows. The only other furniture in the room is a mod couch, AppleSoft white, a silver coffee table before it, and a southwestern print rug. Floor to ceiling glass walls reveal a star-filled galaxy, the closest planet a tiny sphere in the distance.
“Welcome to the OMIB, Oric.”
I turn to see …
“Sam!”
Not the Sam I know. Sam Raid in Proxima space is a brunette in a sleek flight suit, the popped collar of which has three stripes on its right side. Her flight suit is form-fitting, and the galactic onesie dips into a pair of knee-high combat boots, a blade sheathed at the side of each boot.
“Ramjet, please lower the lighting.”
The lights inside the room flicker off; the glass walls start to glow from the inside. With the stars twinkling in the distance, the vibe of the room suddenly goes from alien to warm and fuzzy.
“It’s nice here,” I say as the relaxing vibe rolls over me.
Sam moves past me and sits on the corner of her bed, both hands out as she leans back. “Too much, Ramjet,” she says and the feeling buzzing through me eases up some.
“You can control the … vibes of the place? And who’s Ramjet?”
“Ramjet is the name of my AI. He can control pretty much anything that happens in the ship.”
“Where to begin?” I ask as I look out at the starry OMIB.
“Where would you like to begin?”
“I have loads of questions.” A hole opens behind me and a floating chair lifts up. “Um, thanks, Ramjet.”
“I did that, not Ramjet. I’m kidding, Ramjet did it. We don’t have to stay for long, by the way, if you are uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s not that! I am definitely comfortable, just a bit intrigued. So are you the captain of this ship, the Warp Rider?”
“Yes, I’m the ‘captain,’ as you phrase it. This is my ship, been with me since 2058. It has, of course, been upgraded heavily since then. And it is now a small part of a fleet known as the Iron Compass. Actually, the oval room you are currently standing in was the lone cabin that originally came with the ship.” She nods to the couch. “That used to be the flight deck right there.”
“And now it’s your private quarters?”
“It is. Everyone that was part of the Proxima Pilot Program received a ship that had about a three hundred square foot interior. Over the years, and through successful missions and smuggling operations, I have greatly upgraded Warp Rider. The flight deck alone is a two thousand square foot space. There are guest quarters, a mess hall, a training gym, a small theater, a weapons depot, and a docking station for other vessels. I try to keep it simple though, at least for my personal quarters.”
“You try to keep it simple?” I laugh and she quickly joins me.
“Well, simple enough.”
I lift my gauntleted arm. “I feel out of place here in my giant slayer armor.”
“Yes, about that. Ramjet.”
I hear a decompression sound over my shoulder. I turn to see that the solid white wall near the couch now has a three-dimensional rectangle pressing out of it. Once the rectangle is all the way out, it glides to the left to reveal a bathroom.
“You are ridiculous,” I tell Sam.
“It’s the 21st century!” she laughs. “Just get in there. Ramjet will take care of everything else.”
“Um, okay. Fine.”
I step into the mirrorless restroom and the door shuts behind me, entombing me completely.
Sam’s sink consists of a single, faucet-less copper bowl which sits on top of a white countertop. My next question is answered when a column of water lifts from the b
ottom of the copper bowl, defying gravity.
Is this some type of elaborate bidet?
The water stops at about eye level. My clothes fizzle away and the water disappears in a flash, yet my skin is still wet.
A powerful burst of air presses past me I glance down to see a robe taking shape over my nude body, each thread stitching together one by one.
“This is pretty crazy, Sam,” I say aloud, my voice muffled by the sealed chamber.
I feel my hair follicles stand to attention, and as they do, a mirror melts into shape before me.
“Holy shit!”
I’m suddenly clean-shaven, my hair high and tight as a soldier fresh out of boot camp. The door opens behind me and I step out, a confused look on my face.
“What the hell just happened?”
Sam nearly falls over laughing.
“And what happened to my hair?”
“Ha! Ramjet went a bit, um, overboard.”
“And what happened to you?” I ask, just now noticing that Sam is out of her flight suit and in a robe as well.
“I got ready for bed, just like you.”
“Cool, got it,” I say as I approach the bed.
Soft jazz music starts up. Is Ramjet hooking a brother up? I glance up at the ceiling.
“That’s not what this is about, Ramjet,” Sam says aloud. “Change the music.”
Death metal tears out of the speaker and Sam laughs again. “Okay, no music.”
Her AI goes with white noise, a sound similar to putting your head next to a window fan. The sound dies down until it is a low hum in the background.
“So, where were we?”
“We were getting ready for bed,” she says. “For once, you don’t have to sleep under the stars, or using Wolfie as your pillow. Is that okay with you?”
I glance around the place, from the star-filled galaxy outside to her futuristic bed, which looks more and more comfortable by the minute.
“Sounds great to me, but I really wish Wolf was here.”
“Next time. I wanted Wolf to stay in Unigaea so he could keep Lothar company.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“I try.”
I drop down onto the bed and all but sink into the mattress. Sleeping on a cloud is an understatement. Sam’s bed must have cost a fortune.
The Red Plague: A LitRPG Trilogy (The Last Warrior of Unigaea Book 3) Page 7