The Outlaw (Phantom Server: Book #2)

by Andrei Livadny

  Then they would be pretty useless, wouldn't they? But if I wanted to level Mnemotechnics, I needed at least one AI neuronet.

  The prickling was getting stronger. More insistent.

  How demanding!

  Very well. We could talk while I still had time. I activated the reincarnation task and closed my eyes, allowing the nanites access to my mind expander.

  This time my twin didn't show up at once. He didn't look too good, either: hunched and sickly. No more disdain in his dull stare.

  He didn't say anything. His back stooped some more. What if the hybrid had put the heat on him to prevent him from interfering with my quest?

  The mind-expander-generated cyber space was a weird place indeed. Until I'd received the Mnemotechnics skill I'd had no access to it at all. Admittedly, I found my mental imagery rather chaotic. The seemingly hard floor underfoot was made up of the fancy script of an ancient language glowing green. Memories bubbled to its surface, then burst, letting out unclear figures that faded into the air. Data flowed through space in rivulets, forming cascades and even walls of stats.

  A gray mist filled the air, shaping all the images and objects around me. Never mind. I'd find my way around one day. Now I had a job to do.

  My twin's hunched figure wrapped his darkness-woven rags tighter around him, shivering. I stepped closer, trying to work out what was wrong with him.

  His mental image came into focus. His face blurred, instantly regaining its original mask of disdain. An unkind flame lit up his glare.

  A silent explosion blasted my mind to smithereens.

  You've received mental damage!

  You've lost control of your mind expander.

  The implanted neuronet has seized control of your nervous system.

  Your suit's communication device has been hacked.

  An attempt to connect to the assault module's on-board network detected!

  The next moment, my mind cleared. Energy surged through me, filling me with mind-boggling freedom. Finally this human had made a fatal mistake!

  How much blood had he shed? My mind still operated in human categories even as I sensed myself as something inanimate and utterly ancient. I became a fragment of something greater — enormous and all-powerful.

  The gloom dissipated. Digital codes kept streaming before my mind's eye. I hacked into the assault module's navigation system. Darg is a trap! I can't go there!

  I connected to the external sensors. Their data sobered me somewhat. Our module was moving in a compact formation with others of its kind, led by an assault group of five frigates and two Titan-class cruisers. Powerful monitors closed the rear, followed by a resurrection platform protected by a group of corvettes. The Stiletto-class airspace fighters had already commenced their assault.

  I watched as hundreds of ships beelined for Darg's orbit. They were met by the scarlet tracers of the slave drivers' ships pouring out to meet them in the eruptions of mass launches.

  I assessed my options. The pilots would have to be eliminated. I had to seize control of the assault module, then hack the Fleet's communications and disturb the data transfer, wreaking havoc in their network. Then no one would stand in my way. I'd be able to hijack the module and return to the station in order to keep searching for what I needed so badly. I'd showed them pictures of untold treasures hidden deep within the ancient stations, then watched the stupid fools sell the shirts off their backs in order to kit themselves out and set off in search of their dream.

  All of them had died. Not a single one had succeeded. But this one, strong and cybergized, he just might be smart enough to survive. Between the Mnemonics skill and those excellent implants, he might-

  I reached into my secret stash, scooping out fragments of the ancient civilization's knowledge. Nanite activation codes; ability-unlocking commands; this human was going to be mine for a long time! He would walk perilous trails and find his way deep into the ancient stations' very bowels. He would collect my missing parts!

  Finally, the assault module's network succumbed. No one had noticed it. The pilots had no idea. Soon their life support systems would crash; they would suffocate within their pressurized suits. But not yet. Not quite yet.

  My lips moved as I mouthed the words. A fair-haired young man opposite gave me an encouraging wink. This race had a most obnoxious body language.

  Navigation control: completed

  Engine control: completed

  Life support control: access denied

  Primitive systems. Primitive civilizations. They shouldn't notice anything. I needed time to hack into the Fleet's network. I had to smile back at the guy.

  I was shuddering. My lips stretched into a semblance of a smile, baring my teeth. My eyes opened wide. Thick drool slithered down my chin.

  “You all right, man? What's your name — Zander? Are you shitting yourself? Not to worry, man. We'll make it.”

  I kept grinning. The fair-haired Sergeant's face darkened. Like everybody else, he couldn't move, pinned to his seat by the gravity compensating field.

  “Quit grinning, you idiot,” he must have sensed something. “Lieutenant? Problems in Cell 13! I think the player is having a fit.”

  Thin needles sank into my neck. Help had come from the least expected quarters as the emergency life support systems kicked in.

  Combat metabolytes can bring anybody back to his senses. This time my consciousness hadn't been blown to smithereens — on the contrary, I suddenly felt my numb body, my lucid mind preserving a clear memory of the few blood-curdling minutes when my brain had been taken over by an alien neuronet sifting through my thoughts with disgust.

  My emotions surged forth in an uncontrollable bout of fury that rose like a wall of fire under a blast of a hurricane. No idea how many neurons I'd lost in these seconds.

  The image of my phantom twin broke out into scabs of oxidization and crumbled into dust.

  I felt the wind knocked out of me. I sat there gasping, choking on the thick air. The sergeant kept saying something but I couldn't make out the words.

  You have dealt a mnemonic hit.

  Reincarnation: Quest failed.

  Alien Mind: Quest failed.

  The artificial neuronet has been sterilized. All its data has been destroyed. Its nanites will remain part of your neural system; however, you cannot use them until you reach lvl. 30 of the Mnemotechnics skill.

  Talk about close encounters. The hybrid had warned me against him, too.

  I nodded my gratitude to the sergeant as in, sorry about the hassle, bro, I'm okay now.

  I closed my eyes to avoid their questions and started the mind expander test. I saved the logs of what had just happened. I'd have to look into them properly later to see how my surge of emotion had managed to frazzle the ancient monster. But now I just wasn't up to it.

  Slowly I came back to my senses, all thanks to the bumper dose of combat metabolytes. I was still shivering. My new abilities tempted and scared me. This was the ultimate unknown, the proverbial terra incognita. Mind-controlled technologies could offer me power over the world. But what would I become then?

  Implants, nanites, neuronets... my imagination offered me images of ancient ships manned by these Avatroids, the clouds of incandescent particles forming lethal weapons of a long gone civilization... who would stand against them?

  You and others like you, a voice whispered deep in my mind.

  I was curious to see a top-level replication matrix so I checked one of the scanner files made at the station.

  I saw a drone which resembled a scaled-down Phantom Raider.

  In order to study the object, you need lvl. 75 in Science and lvl. 50 in Alien Technologies. In order to materialize the object, you need lvl. 30 in Mnemotechnics.

  What, was that it? After the recent upgrade, Science counted as 10:1 to Intellect. Alien Technologies skill was more or less clear too: I could level it relatively quickly simply by scanning every alien item I came across. Now Mnemotechnics was different. To leve
l it, you had to learn to handle nanites — and that was a job and a half!

  I couldn't help wondering about the hybrid's potential. Hadn't he said he had Mnemotechnics at almost a hundred? Provided he'd told me the truth, of course.

  Mind expander testing completed.

  Two new activation codes and six new command sequences detected.

  Where did those come from? Oh yeah, right. My twin had planned to use them, thinking I was now secured under his control.

  Curiosity flared up, wiping away the tiredness. I tried to activate the new commands. All I received were the names of the future abilities and their brief descriptions, plus more level restrictions:

  Integration. Allows you to upgrade your weapons and gear and change their designs by adding additional modules (the upgrade schemes have to be consulted or created personally). Requirements: lvl. 5 in Mnemotechnics and a source of energy (a regular or micro nuclear battery depending on the complexity of the work).

  Plasma Blast. Destroys 10,000 of your nanites, dealing 200 pt. damage to all enemy within a radius of 50 ft. Requirements: lvl. 6 in Mnemotechnics and enough available nanites.

  Disintegration. Destroys any item, machine or living being chosen as target, creating an incandescent molecular cloud (its radius depending on ability level, increasing 3 ft. per level). With every new level received, the damage dealt increases 100 pt. Requirements: lvl. 7 in Mnemotechnics, lvl. 8 in Replication and lvl. 1+ in Differential Nanite Control.

  Breakdown. Affects any kinematic devices by temporarily disabling them. Duration: 5 sec +1 sec per each ability level. Requirements: lvl. 8 in Mnemotechnics.

  System Failure. Disrupts data transfer in the target's cyber devices. Duration: 3 sec +1 sec per each ability level). Requirements: lvl. 12 in Mnemotechnics.

  Advanced Integration. Allows you to upgrade any planetary vehicles and small spacecraft. Requirements: lvl. 17 in Mnemotechnics, lvl. 15 in Technologist, a neuronet implant made to the Founders’ specs and a source of energy (a battery or a mini reactor depending on the complexity of the intended improvements).

  New ability available! Piercing Vision. Your nanites will form a reconnaissance net, transmitting visual information and scanners' data within a radius of 30 ft. Requirements: lvl. 3 in Mnemotechnics and a micro nuclear battery. Warning! In order for the ability to work, you need to possess a mind expander made to the Founders’ specs.

  New replication matrix available: Small Recon Probe. Requirements: lvl. 5 in Mnemotechnics, lvl. 5 in either Technologist or Alien Technologies and an autonomous source of energy (a micro nuclear battery). Allows your nanites to create a small recon device.

  You've received new activation codes! You have a rare artifact gear item: a Founder's Glove. The codes serve to transform and activate all of the item's functions. Requirements: lvl. 5+ in Mnemotechnics.

  Warning! You won't be able to view the item's properties or use its activation codes until your character reaches lvl. 29.

  This monstrous twin had left me a lovely inheritance! Shame about all the requirements but just think of all the opportunities it opened!

  Ingmud's quest was worth completing, that's for sure.

  * * *

  Darg was growing near.

  I'd heard so much about this planet but hadn't yet landed there.

  The group's local network showed no sign of anxiety. The newly-baked “Colonial foot soldiers” had no fear for their future. They'd been to enough game worlds and seen all kinds of mobs to fear some puny Dargians. New levels, new loot, a quick rise through the ranks — what else did a gamer need?

  Their thinking was dated. They had no idea of the crushing power of neuroimplants. My body began to shake. The planet in the observation window kept growing, its bluish gray glow obscuring the stars. I could see clusters of clouds; in a haze below lay the dull brown terrain spotted with a camo pattern of green. Bodies of water glistened amid the patchy valleys and the zigzagging threads of mountain ranges.

  In the past, a Founders' station used to orbit the planet but now it was reduced to fragments, its debris scattered over a large area. The Dargians had eventually built places of worship on their crash sites. Yes, they worshipped a dead alien civilization — or so the Wiki said.

  Interestingly, no one had noticed that the network had been hacked. I had to give the AI justice: he knew what he was doing. My Synaps was still streaming data from the on-board network which gave me an advantage over other players.

  The airspace groups had already mopped up the entry corridors. Resistance had been minimal. The few surviving Dargian ships hurried to flee, taking cover in the depths of space.

  Eurasia's assault group was approaching the low orbit zone. The frigates and the two cruisers lined up in an arc and began strafing along the surface. I watched as the dots of the first impacts swelled into fiery blisters, spewing black and red through the evaporating clouds.

  Even if Dargians had had any airspace defenses, they would have been crushed by now.

  The monitors, the resurrection platform and the corvettes covering it took their positions in the high orbit zone.

  The assault modules began to regroup. In mere seconds we would enter the atmosphere. The thought made me uneasy. All sorts of sick scenarios flashed through my head. I tried to lay my finger on the cause of this ungrounded anxiety. What if the AI had been right? What had made him think this was a trap? Everything seemed to be going to plan.

  Then the atmosphere blurred with non-stop charges of blinding magnesium-white light as Darg struck back, reducing the more unlucky of our craft to clots of plasma.

  The frigates' power shields flared up, then expired. Five of those seemingly indestructible ships crumbled to bits, enveloped in murky clouds of decompression, fire spewing from inside. Before I could blink an eye, the orbit was littered with tumbling debris.

  The Dargians' scorching rays expired, then struck again, this time targeting the cruisers, the monitors and the resurrection platform.

  A dozen corvettes exploded in cascades of molten metal. The platform turned into an erupting volcano. The Titans' shields held though as the two cruisers ceased fire, sparing all their energy for their defenses. Enveloped in a dazzling glow, they commenced an evasive maneuver, trying to force their way through the white-hot haze of newborn clouds of gas and dust. To no avail. The enemy didn't let them escape.

  Two blinding flashes in the sky signaled the crushing defeat of the assault group of the Second Colonial Fleet.

  By then, the assault modules had already entered the atmosphere. We couldn't turn back.

  We kept descending toward the clouds of ash.

  Mission update: The Fall of Darg. The story has been recategorized as Variable.

  Step 2: The planet defenders have used an unknown ancient weapon. They have destroyed all of the Fleet's large ships.

  You need to locate and destroy airspace defense units if you want to open a safe entry corridor and get help.

  Extra task: Seize a resurrection point on the surface of Darg.

  * * *

  The howling of the G-force absorbers rose to ultrasound. The wall panels vibrated. The fireball of our ship rocketed down through the dense atmosphere, searing the ashen clouds.

  The shields still held. The taut tracers of missiles cut through the sky from below, launching balls of plasma which exploded above our heads.

  The sky was on fire. It felt like submerging into an ocean of ash and brimstone.

  I couldn't see the ground. The sensors were virtually dead. Communication channels were down, apart from some occasional Maydays sent by whatever crew members were still alive, locked without hope within the few still pressurized ship fragments.

  Why had it gone so fatally wrong? Which moron had dreamed up a scenario that called for the death of thousands of players?

  I didn't understand anything anymore. The resurrection platform had been destroyed, which meant that the only available respawn points were those on Darg itself. What if this
was the developers' idea?

  Or had they lost the plot again, literally, like when Argus had been attacked by Phantom Raiders? Why had it become variable all of a sudden?

  The thick clouds parted in tatters.

  The G-absorbers switched off. We started to glide down on the planetary thrust. Now all our energy was channeled into the shields. We could see some burning structures below on the shore of a small lake. Its rippling leaden surface lay below the towering cliffs opposite. Beyond them, I could make out a forest battered by gale force winds and beyond it, part of a hilly plain.

  They were hammering at us with non-stop anti-aircraft fire. Our shield pulsated, absorbing the damage. Then a few shield segments gave up. The ship shuddered. I heard deafening blows followed by the wailing of the wind and the screech of emergency alarms. We'd been shot down. We were depressurized.

  The fair-haired sergeant in front of me was dead. A missile had exploded inside his compensating field, fusing together fragments of flesh and metal.

  We kept losing altitude, speeding past the roofs of squat barrack-like structures below. Straight ahead I could see an array of buildings cut into the cliffs, enveloped in a cloud of dust and judging by their signatures, protected by a power shield.

  Our ship's guns were silent. The compensating fields were still on. All of us, dead and alive, were still at the mercy of the automatics.

  The ship listed, losing control. I had to do something.

  My mind left the room, slipping into the on-board network hacked by the AI.

  I could see the survivors' pale faces but I had more pressing things to do. The ship was about to smash into the cliffs. I glanced through the ship's stats. Apparently, I could fly it: my level 20 Pilot skill was quite enough.