“Foggs? Need to talk.”
We stepped aside.
“Well?” he was all nerves.
“The only chance of surviving,” I began, “is by fighting our way through to the downed assault modules and dismantle their reactors. We need to create a power shield all around the perimeter. If we can do that, we’ll survive.”
“You serious? The place is chock full of Dargs! Didn’t you hear what Vandal’s just said? Their rovers are already on the other bank! Whoever sticks their neck out is dead! If we open fire now, they won’t even need scanners to locate our positions, they’ll see them!”
“Liori and I will cover you. Just try not to waste a single round. We need to repel them now, that’ll give us some time to dismount the reactors.”
He frowned. “Is it true what I heard that your Mnemotechnic skill is slowly killing you?”
“That’s my problem. Go see the gunners!”
Soon Liori and I were alone at the command point.
It’s time. Let’s try and survive, shall we? her lips touched my cheek. The cloud of Steel Mist seeped out through the narrow window.
I slumped into an uncomfortable seat, closed my eyes and activated Piercing Vision.
The nanites advanced rapidly over the singed shoreline of the evaporated lake. The hundreds of tiny red markers of the Dargian rovers were moving across the lake’s cracked bottom — but now they’d lost their targets and were forced to cease fire. A thick veil of darkness hung across the lake, cutting us off from the enemy’s scanners.
A bitter smirk curved my lips.
Logically, the Dargians and ourselves should have united in our fight against avatroids. Still, the Disciples didn’t answer my messages. Most likely, their respawn point was too far from here; alternatively, they might think it below their dignity to answer the appeal of a humble Human.
The cliffs shuddered with our first volley, then began shaking with rapid arrhythmic vibrations as each gun began firing single shots.
Fifteen rounds left each...
Ten...
Five...
The Dargians were too many. They didn’t budge. More and more red markers kept appearing just within our scanners’ range. More of them showed up in the sky: five heavy aerospace fighters, judging by their signatures. They were about to blanket-fire us with plasma, burn the nanites and expose our positions.
They were too far, way out of my Disintegration’s range.
I watched them closely as they banked into an attacking course.
Everything was so fatally simple. Still, there had to be a way out! The truth about Phantom Server had changed my outlook. The discovery Liori and I had made still refused to sink in. Dying now of all times, when we’d finally lifted the veil off the age-old mystery and when the stakes were higher than ever – dying now would be utterly stupid and pointless.
I connected to the long range communications system and searched the debris circling Darg’s orbit for an undamaged transmitter satellite.
The Dargians resumed their attack.
Foggs, do not open fire without my command!
I scanned the frequencies. Having failed to find the one I needed, I switched to automatic data transfer on all wave lengths.
The Dargians’ fighters shot over the cliffs and began ascending. Their systems couldn't do anything against the Steel Mist enveloping our positions – but it wasn’t going to last. By now, their pilots must have already realized they had to use plasma. Still, they were reluctant to do so – and I knew very well why.
The communication system beeped with an incoming call. I saw Roakhmar’s head in the operative window. The leader of the Disciples was furious: he’d just received the message I’d sent out on all wave lengths.
“Zander, you cannot do it! The crystal is indestructible! And the rest we can restore!”
“You wanna try?” I wasn’t in the best of moods, either. “Disintegration works on anything!”
He frowned. My words weren't just an empty threat and he knew it. Besides, he must have already heard what was going on and understood the level of danger coming from Avatroid. He couldn’t afford losing this defense point: that would leave a large area of Darg’s surface exposed to alien invasion.
“What are your terms?” he hissed, suppressing his emotions. “Just don’t expect much. Human settlements on Darg are out of the question!”
“For starters, please abort the attack and remove your troops. Then we’ll need as many of our downed ships as you can find in the area, and some time to repair them. In return, I'll allow two of your observers access to the defense point so they can testify to the crystal’s safety. Alternatively, in case of your playing games, they can also testify to its destruction.”
“The crystal can be neither destroyed nor stolen,” Roakhmar snapped. “It’s a Founders’ creation!”
“I don’t for one moment question your religion. Still, you’d better not push it. Your beliefs might not prove as infallible as you imagine. We’ll leave Darg and go our separate ways. Good enough?”
“I need to think about it.”
“Please do. Just don’t be long. We’ve nothing left to lose.”
Zander, they’ve stopped, Liori reported. You do realize, don’t you, that your Disintegration level isn’t enough to destroy the crystal?
Roakhmar resurfaced after a couple of minutes. “We’ll give you a transport ship. It’s old but big enough and in good condition.”
This sounded like an ultimatum.
“Very well,” I was forced to meet him halfway but only to make another proposal which made him cringe, “I would like to buy back all the slaves.”
“But you have nothing to offer!”
“That’s where you’re wrong. The Founders used to have certain artifacts and technologies you have no idea about.”
“This is a lot of hot air, nothing else.”
“Very well. If you don’t believe me, have a look at these files,” I forwarded him the screenshots made by my mind expander, showing the Plasma Lash chop through the slave trader’s cargonite armor and slice a few combat drones.
For a while he remained silent.
“Devices like this could make your clan even more powerful than it is already, couldn’t they? I might even improve them to make the generator fit your gear slots, this way using it won’t call for unique abilities.”
He paused. He was definitely interested but it looked like the Disciples didn’t command total authority over Darg as I had first thought. He was weighing up his chances.
“Very well,” he finally said. “I will contact the slave traders. If you promise not to destroy the crystal and if you make a hundred of those-”
“Ten,” I said firmly. “Ten Plasma Lash generators in exchange for the slaves’ freedom.”
“I’m afraid you might be disappointed. There weren’t many survivors amongst your race,” he said frowning. “The camp you’ve seized was the largest.”
“You’d better check first. Then we can discuss the price. It’s not that difficult, as you can see.”
He tensed up. “What isn’t?”
“Cooperating. Searching for common ground and finding it.”
“You'll still remain our enemies!” he hissed.
“It’s all right. I’m not trying to buddy up to you, either. All I want you to do is have a think and make the right decision. What is more important for you, save the space defense point or quench your hatred?”
“Darg’s safety and the Founders’ legacy are above all,” he pulled his neck in. “Now wait. My representatives will arrive soon. From this moment, the cease-fire is on.”
Chapter Eleven
The Darg System. Outer space.
Twelve hours later.
The Founders’ station slowly loomed into the observation screens, filling in all the surveillance sectors.
The cargo transport they’d given us was falling apart at the seams. We’d been trying to patch it up throughout our long journe
y. Two hundred and seventy-three players huddled up together in its compartments and its holds.
Vandal entered the cockpit and stood behind my seat, taking in the ancient station’s technogenic outline. “So this is the Oasis?”
“Used to be,” I worked the thrusters, steering the ship toward the dilapidated dock. “Nothing left of it, as you can see. Only the framework.”
“And this hybrid, what’s his name, does he really mean to restore it? Or is it all BS?”
“That’s exactly what I intend to find out. Don't distract me, okay?”
“All right, I'll shut up,” he stared at the screen, showing neither fear nor excitement.
The vacuum dock was drawing near. I could already make out its landing supports, the mouth of the so memorable tunnel and my Condor still sitting on its landing pad.
“A fighter!” Vandal leaned forward, curious, studying its stats. “But... what’s with the reactors?”
“Welcome to Oasis,” I said, steering the ship toward the landing supports. “The local serves will pilfer the deck from under you. This is what used to be my Condor. I only turned away for five minutes but when I was back the reactors were gone.”
“What, NPCs?” Vandal asked, incredulous.
“Exactly. So keep your eyes peeled without me, okay?”
He grinned. “As if Foggs would have had it any other way! Listen, Zander, mind if I come with you? I can see this place is trouble already. Just in case you need to kick some ass.”
“I’ll manage, don’t worry. It’s a sensitive business. I have Liori with me, anyway. You’d better call Foggs now. We’re landing.”
“Five secs,” I could see he was nervous by his changed speech patterns.
I struggled to dock the ship in the deformed pad. The landing supports failed to go in more than a third of their length.
I released the security hooks, sinking them deep into the surrounding structures. A quick scan of the location didn’t register any potential danger. In any case, it was much safer and calmer here than in outer space. The tunnel was within reach so we could always evacuate the passengers through it in case of any malfunction or system failure.
That seemed to be it. We were in. I rose from my pilot’s seat for the first time in the last eight hours. I’d had to fly it manually as the on-board automatics were in a sorry state. But the Disciples had been true to their word: the ship was space-worthy with plenty of volume in its holds. The rest we’d had to take care of ourselves, keeping our mechanic teams busy throughout the trip.
Foggs entered the cockpit. “Did you wanna see me?”
Our freshly-minted clan leader looked exhausted. He’d had his fair share of worries too.
“Have you come up with a clan name?” I asked just to lighten the atmosphere.
“Not yet. Can’t think of anything.”
“Try The Daugoths,” Vandal grumbled. “Why not? They’re high-level pack hunters – perfect as a clan symbol. We’ll make a logo and put it on our armor. And everyone will get a tattoo!”
Foggs chuckled. “I’ll think about it. Zander,” he switched to a serious tone, “if this thing between you and the hybrid doesn’t work out, what are we supposed to do?”
I gave him the microchip. “These are detailed plans of Argus. The decks are depressurized but I’ve marked down a few warehouses you might want to check for gear and cartridges. I also outlined certain areas you should steer clear of. The respawn point at Founders Square should still work. I suggest you check out the old clan and corporation locations.”
“Wait a bit,” Foggs interrupted me. “You sound as if you’re not going to come back. Should I send a few men with you?”
I hated to raise the subject but apparently I had to. “Anything can happen,” I said. “But I don’t need anyone. You need to understand: this hybrid is a dark horse. On his own admission, he’s got thirty-six alien neuronets implanted. Which is why I need to go there alone.”
“Does that mean his name tag says Reincarnation 36/150?” Foggs asked.
“No, it says Level 127, a Hybrid. So I’d rather we don’t take any risks. First I’ll speak to him and find out what it’s all about, then we can all move there. But just in case I don’t come back, you’ve got this microchip with the plans of Argus, you’ve got the ship and all you need to do is use your head.”
“I like your pep talk!”
“I’m saying it as it is. Right,” I checked my gear, “I’m off. Pointless dragging it out. In the meantime you can take a look around. You might let the players out and give them a bit of a run. It’s time they get used to their new surroundings.”
“I’ll keep them busy, don’t you worry. Just make sure you pass this message to the hybrid if you get the chance: his Oasis is a great thing but this clan will remain independent no matter what.”
“I will,” I poked his ribs with my fist and headed for the exit.
* * *
Heaps of cargonite scrap were getting soaked under the drizzling rain.
At a first glance, nothing had changed here. Why would it: it had only been forty-eight hours since I’d first entered the Oasis.
I followed the familiar trail. Liori and I didn’t talk even though we maintained unbroken mnemonic contact at all times. Both of us were preparing for the conversation, each in our own way.
The place was deserted. Actually, come to think of it, Ingmud’s dream wasn’t that mad after all. At least he was consumed by the desire to create, to confront circumstances, to make his world a better place. He could have continued in the game as a regular player (because that’s what he believed himself to be), farming mobs in nearby locations, which in itself called for a heart-to-heart, otherwise I wouldn’t have come here now to begin with: it would have been much easier to simply take the ship and all the survivors directly to Argus.
Why to Argus and not to the Founders’ frigate? The answer was simple: the ancient craft was still being rebuilt and refitted. Most of its modules were still depressurized and lacking life support systems. We just couldn’t provide two hundred and seventy people with everything they needed. Besides, the clan needed to level up. In that respect, Oasis was perfect. But after everything that had happened, Ingmud’s true identity was understandably suspect. I just wouldn’t have had any peace of mind had I brought my men to him and left them here. Who could guarantee that Ingmud had indeed brought the ancient neuronets under his control – the very neuronets that had allowed him to manipulate the technosphere?
There was also another reason I wasn’t going to mention yet.
Finally, I left the heaps of cargonite behind and walked unhurriedly along the road. A couple of days ago, if I remembered rightly, it had been glittering with the laser outlines of the future buildings but since I’d been gone, some of them had begun to take shape. Serves were toiling hard amid the fireworks of plasma torches. Still devoid of walls, the skeletons of future houses arose everywhere I looked, forming streets.
I noticed Ingmud from afar. He must have been informed of my arrival and was pacing the small area in front of the power station.
The quest was still active.
“So Zander, what is it? How’s Kathryn? Where is she?” he stepped toward me, unable to help himself, then faltered, thinking he’d second-guessed my answer in my tired stare. “She doesn’t want to see me, does she?”
“Kathryn’s dead.”
He flinched. His shoulders hunched. Then he flung up his hands in dismay and hurried to say, blurring his words, “No, no, Zander, I’m sure she just didn’t want to see me! She couldn’t have died, it’s not possible! Tell me the truth!”
“Let’s go inside. We need to talk.”
“Yes, of course, just tell me you’ve failed the quest! You didn’t find her, did you?” he hurried to swing the door open.
“I’m very sorry. I’d have loved to give you hope. Unfortunately, I have some evidence – the logs and the videos made by my mind expander. Here, take a look. I can wait outside if you
wish.”
“No. Please stay,” the hybrid waved his hand in the air, materializing the holographic playback sphere. It sprang to life, replaying the spine-chilling images. The display of data below left no doubt of the files’ authenticity.
The hybrid watched it in silence. He seemed to have turned to stone. Only when “Kathryn” exposed her true identity did his cheek begin to twitch.
“Who’s this creature?” he asked hoarsely.
“This is Avatroid,” I said. “The result of the merger of several neuronets that used to belong to various AIs. The product of a failed experiment performed by the Outlaws. A very dangerous experiment, too.”
Ingmud turned pale. He slumped into his seat. The steel veins permeating his flesh began to glow red. Liori clung to me, her nanites creating an extra layer of protection. Everything would be decided now.
I tensed up, prepared to cast the Steel Mist and strike with Disintegration at the first opportunity. I also formed a command sequence of two attack and one defense ability and placed it into a quick access slot.
The reactors were located overhead. If the ancient neuronets in his mind prevailed, it would mean combat – and in that case, Oasis was as good as gone.
I had a funny feeling I might lose the battle. Still, this was a risk I had to take. Especially because the hybrid must have been the mysterious force that had kept me conscious between deaths in Jyrd’s respawn purgatory.
But in that case his grief was nothing but a show, his desperation a mask concealing cold calculation and far-reaching schemes.
Finally he looked up. His eyes were empty and forlorn. Still, he had to suppress his human emotions in order to perform his duty as an NPC,
“You’ve done all you could,” he said in a dull voice. “You’ve earned the reward. At least for the first part of the quest.”
“You’ve got nothing to give me.”
His stare turned prickly. He focused, scanning my stats.
The Outlaw (Phantom Server: Book #2) Page 27