by Domino Finn
I blinked at the interface.
"It's from Christian Everett," I said.
Izzy and I hurried down the steps to my private quarters. It was a simple space. Just a bed and a shelf with Firefly action figures. I hadn't gotten around to decorating past that yet because we always seemed to have an emergency. The fact that this call was coming from Christian himself felt like more of the same. The CEO had never directly interfaced with me before. We'd spoken, of course, through Tad's Everchat account on his phone, but not Christian's account. This felt... official. Izzy crowded my shoulder as I swiped the connection open.
The CEO appeared at an odd angle, towering over the camera and sitting strangely. He was hunched on the floor—expectedly somber but paler than usual. "I... I regret to inform you that Pete was killed during an attack on our headquarters."
I winced. "Saint Peter?"
Christian pressed his lips together.
"Oh my God." My throat went dry. I couldn't swallow. "What about Tad? Is he—"
"I'm here," said my double, moving into view of the camera. "The Defenders were casualties too. Turns out the HR director was an InLink plant. She used explosives to take down the simulation. She's dead now too."
An explosion. That certainly accounted for the strange events in-game. Curious too that Hadrian was telling the truth about InLink, working against them while simultaneously relying on them for escape. Curious, but not surprising. When it came to loyalty, the Whisperer didn't have the most impeccable credentials.
"How is Haven still operable?" I asked.
"There are redundant systems in place," explained Christian. "Though they were built for power grid and battery outages, not terrorist strikes." The CEO allowed a thin smile, pleased with his precautions while not feeling overly boastful. "We've rerouted power so everything should be back to normal on your end."
Peter had mentioned a satellite explosion as well. I sighed. "Is... Saint Peter... Will I ever see him again? In Haven, I mean."
Christian's eyes creased in some combination of sadness and great respect. "Pete was devoted to the work, to the possibilities it offered mankind, to the choice it provided, but it wasn't a choice he personally believed in. Pete won't be resurrected in Haven."
I blinked rapidly to quell the budding tears. I couldn't believe he was gone.
"What about you in there?" asked Tad. "What happened?"
The anger returned to my face. "Hadrian used the reboot as a chance to escape. He stole the Eye of Orik and respawned in Oakengard. The angels are dead."
"This is worse than I thought." Christian grimaced in pain and twisted his shoulder to the floor. Tad knelt over and helped him assume a more comfortable position. The CEO grabbed his belly where a wash of red liquid was still wet.
I started. "You're hurt."
Christian shook his head. "It's of no consequence." Despite the nonchalant words, they were spoken through gritted teeth. "I've taken measures. I can't rely on being around to ensure the launch."
Tad's dire expression hinted that the situation was more serious than it looked. "What kind of measures?" I pressed.
The CEO drew long breaths as Tad attended to him with a medical kit. They must have been all alone up there. Christian bit down and closed his eyes. He reopened them slowly—too slowly—looking every bit like a worn out, dying man, and cognizant of that fact.
"Tell me," he said, "how is my daughter? Have you seen her?"
My throat stiffened, the image of the witchwood clattering to the floor burned into my brain. I blinked at my inventory. Izzy avoided his eyes by turning to me. I cleared my throat loudly.
"No," I said.
It was the worst kind of lie, but I didn't know how to tell him anything else. The man was dying—what did it matter? The fabrication was believable enough. Lucifer had been missing a few days while hunting Otho. Sticking to that status quo made the most sense in the moment.
Izzy squeezed my shoulder in gentle warning. I ignored her. I needed to figure this out first.
"Well," said Christian with a forced smile, "she did always know how to stay out of trouble. I imagine, as this escalates, you'll cross paths. Do me a favor, will you? Don't tell her I'm hurt."
I clenched my jaw and nodded, sickened by the bitter irony.
"But you can't wait for her," he said, resuming an air of gravitas. His eyes locked on mine. "This next part is very important, Talon. You must hear this."
I gave him my full attention.
"You need to save the game, and you're on a deadline."
"You're going ahead with the launch."
"Launching Haven is a foregone conclusion. It's what InLink fears the most. If we're not live in three days as planned, Kablammy can no longer guarantee project funding, especially after this sabotage. It'll take months to recover. After this there's no telling how InLink will proceed, but they'll come at us fast and hard. There's a very real danger of them acquiring the company. They would own you outright."
Izzy leaned into the camera. "But certainly the attack on your building will buy you some leeway."
Christian shook his head. "In some circles, but even if I could temporarily halt the legal machine and reprogram the directives with limited manpower and damaged portals, the rocket launch clearances have been secured through the Federal Aviation Administration months in advance. No, the schedule is locked in; it's either launch or postpone indefinitely."
Tad Lonnerman summed it up more aptly. "If you want to keep your freedom, we need to push ahead."
I forced my lips together. I wasn't sure why I kept insisting the official release be delayed. Sure, there were plenty of reasons to lose faith in the developers, but there were even more reasons to believe in them. I was talking to two shining examples right now.
Besides, Haven was Christian Everett's dream project, an altruistic vision of a future where people lived forever. Frankly, he would push ahead with the launch whether I was on board or not. It was the only way to protect what he'd built.
"What's this deadline you're talking about?" I asked.
The CEO's face sharpened as he took a moment to gather himself. "When Haven launches at midnight in two and a half days, several things will happen. First, the satellites will launch. Our primary launch site was destroyed but we still have an undamaged alternate. The game will be transferred to low earth orbit. Once this occurs, Haven admin will be relegated to game systems. This transition has already started in the beta. The key point is there'll be no more assists from the outside."
Christian twisted forward, looking more comfortable and more engaged. "Next, Kablammy Games forfeits its Haven assets. Our legal team files for Universal Interstellar Rights. No other ownership entity would consider giving up this control, so it's all on me.
"In correlation with these proceedings, the beta period officially ends. The definitive terms of service actualize. Your rights as digital consciousnesses, as humans, is declared and ratified. There'll be legal battles for years to come, but the declaration itself is what's significant. It will be a statement and date forever marked in history."
Hearing the inner workings of a tech titan, having a window into their vision of the future, was strange. It was like looking into a crystal ball. "Sounds epic," I said. "What's the catch?"
He sighed. "There are several. You will lose developer oversight. The community team was planning on rolling out smoothly, but the attack has forced our hand. The destruction of the Golden Seven only heightens the point. Haven, at least for the foreseeable future, will be self-governed."
"So we're a digital battlefield at the moment, and it's up to me to fix it. That all?"
"Far from it. The situation will become vastly more complicated in a few days. Large swaths of Haven are waiting to be unlocked in version 1.0. There will also be an influx of new residents, already uploaded and awaiting activation. With our systems debilitated, it'll be impossible to patch in a delay to these automated processes, and given the aggressive acquisition tact
ics, it would be irresponsible to try."
I briefly glanced at Izzy, thinking I was missing something. "Okay... so we're talking about a bunch of new players and assets initialized amid chaos. I can see how that's not ideal, but it's a manageable problem. The reality is, three days isn't a lot of time. It's too late to stop a war."
"It can't be too late," asserted Christian, "because there's one final snag. It's where my carefully constructed house of cards comes crashing down. Cities in Haven are not self-sufficient. Sure, various daemons manage systems—the economy, resources, upkeep, and lifestyle activities—but the overall agency of the populace, the governorship, has no such process. People or AIs need to be in place to lead. With the planned obsolescence of the saints, it was our job to find replacements."
My face darkened as I caught on. "You're talking about leaders of the three cities."
"I am. And the day-zero patch will lock the leaders into positions of strength. We can't let Hadrian get that far."
A sinking feeling was growing in my chest. "But why bother cementing something as important as leadership in a patch like that?"
Christian grimaced. "It's complicated and involved and a little embarrassing, but without the supervision of the dev team this was mostly a legal requirement to help fulfill Universal Interstellar Rights."
My eyelids fluttered. "The lawyers made you do it." Christian gave no explanation but none was needed. I didn't pretend to understand the rights governing orbiting bodies or the heft of what Haven was ready to accomplish. I just needed to understand what I was facing. "How did you choose the leaders?"
The CEO cleared his throat. "Given your success in Haven, and Pete's never-wavering faith in your principles, it seemed wise to grant special powers to each city's Protector. You're the best man to lead Stronghold. Relations with Brugo were improving, and his welcoming of the errant folk was inspired. As for Oakengard, they already ousted their fanatical bishop. Fractured though they are, the Trinity are the de facto Protectors of Oakengard, programmed to cede governorship to their White King. Even with free will, their law is infallible."
My jaw hung idle for a moment. "You're the White King. Lucifer's savior."
He checked his bleeding gut. "I find myself in a predicament, Talon. I must live long enough to see my gambit through, but if I arrive too late, I'll find my empire stolen."
I sat back, distancing myself from the weight of his words. Each great city of Haven was built on two founder relics. The soulstones were only half the equation. Separate artifacts, one being my dragonspear, bestowed the mantle of Protector. The trio of crystalline triangles was Oakengard's.
"Your empire's already stolen," I told him. "Hadrian has the trijewel and the Trinity's dead."
Christian's face darkened as he weighed the implications. Hadrian had respawned in Oakengard, a city long prepped for his arrival. This was part of his endgame. Christian, taxed by our extended conversation, spoke with guarded frailty. "If Haven goes live while Hadrian still rules, he'll gain an order of magnitude more power. His grip on an over-buffed Oakengard will threaten the security of all Haven, and even the appearance of the White King will be in jeopardy."
I twisted my jaw with grim recognition. "And all I have to do is save the world in three days."
1790 Shut Up and Jam!
The Everchat call didn't last much longer. Christian was exhausted and Tad took over. We had lots of questions but specifics were hard to come by. Even as Peter's dying words were relayed to us, we were disheartened by the vague instructions. He'd prepared a set of quests for us and we were to find them. Where or how, we weren't sure. Even the nature of the quests was cryptic.
But it was a start.
Izzy and I headed from Dragonperch toward the main drag in Oldtown. We used party chat to keep Kyle in the loop. The three of us were the heart and soul and core of the Black Hats.
Kyle: F me in the A. What do we do now?
Talon: We have a plan. Or the inklings of one. We just have to execute.
Kyle: But Lucifer's gone. Saint Peter...
I turned to Izzy and smiled.
Talon: No plan survives first contact with the enemy intact. We took some casualties but we're still very much standing.
"Speaking of casualties," cut in Izzy, "do you think it was a good idea to keep what happened to Lucifer a secret?"
I winced. I'd second- and third-guessed that move already, but there was nothing for it. "It's the living we need to think about now. Lucifer would want that." She didn't appear convinced.
Kyle: So I was thinking of ways to get outta here. Once we find Hex, I say we commit mass hara-kiri and respawn back home.
Talon: I don't know if that's a good idea. We have two and a half days till Haven launches and I don't know if I want you in lockdown for half of that.
Kyle: I'm all ears if you have a better idea.
Talon: Working on it.
He didn't reply. I imagined him responding to my non-answer by flapping his lips loudly in protest.
"It's gonna be a big problem," said Izzy after a short silence.
"Oakengard?"
"Time. The march to Oakengard alone is supposed to take three days. It doesn't leave a lot of time for saving the world."
I nodded. "No it does not. We move full steam ahead, one way or the other."
It was another evasive answer, but we couldn't allow ourselves to be burdened by logic, not while marching to the guildhall to give a rousing speech to the Black Hat membership.
As we turned the corner onto the strip, I stuttered. The Last Stand wasn't a small bar; there were numerous booths and rows of shared high tables. It was meant as a public meeting place for faction business, our headquarters outside Dragonperch, accessible to those not in my close circle. The dirt road lining the pub was packed, which meant the interior was at capacity. Even its grand opening didn't see these numbers, and Kyle had been giving away free beer.
We advanced through the thickening crowd, awe growing with every step. Most of the players and NPCs in attendance weren't Oldtown regulars. They outnumbered Black Hats five-to-one, with more and more joining the fray. I was gobsmacked.
"The Protector!" cheered one.
The crowd converged around us while simultaneously managing to part neatly, forming a path to the entrance. The people bowed, muttered, and generally made a big fuss at our presence. Izzy was right: we did need to be here. I slowed, considering whether I should address them and what I should say, but Izzy set her hand on my back and shoved forward. She wanted to get out of here. While she loved large displays of attention, she preferred them to be impersonal and from the safety of a stage. I curtly nodded to the onlookers and stomped up the stairs, walking through the open doors of the guildhall.
The distinguished mahogany and red-padded decor was completely lost in the standing-room-only interior. Aside from known absences like Kyle and Bravo Team, all seventy-something Black Hats were here, along with considerably more townspeople, all rife with excitement.
They plotted and strategized and pantomimed future battles, equal parts frenzy and trepidation. There were rattled words of Hadrian's escape, murmurs of Saint Peter's death, and even worries of Haven shutting down for good. I hadn't considered that last one yet, but with explosions and a growing body count among the development team, it was a real possibility.
We paused for a moment, taking the nervous activity in, both frightened and energized. As our presence was noticed, shushes washed over the crowd, collecting as one universal gust of air before dissipating into silence, all eyes on us.
This was a big deal.
Trafford was clearly relieved we joined him. He raised a celebratory fist. "Two-for-one Black Hat Brews for the next hour!"
I kneaded my temples as cheers rang out.
"And happy hour prices on Pizza Rolls!" He approached us and lowered his voice. "In addition to boosting the guild coffers, that should keep the crowd soft. The rest depends on you." He slapped my back and hurried behind
the bar, playing keep-up with impatient adventurers.
I would've lost complete faith in my fellow man but, fortunately, the applause was mixed, with plenty of attendees realizing there was more at stake than cheap suds and cheesy goodness.
Crispy, crunchy, cheesy goodness.
"I'll take a pepperoni!" I yelled.
Hey, maybe Trafford was a mad genius. Desperate people needed something to lean on.
Izzy and I marched forward through the path already blazed by Trafford. I paused and searched the interior, only just realizing there wasn't a stage of any sort. The place was only a few days old and still had wrinkles to iron out, and the two times it was called for I'd simply stood in the clearing in front of the bar. Now it was so full of people there wasn't even space for the barstools.
Izzy cracked her knuckles. "Stand aside."
She drew a small frost wand and pointed it at the foot of the bar. A wall of ice rose two feet in the air. She placed a long boot on the makeshift platform and stepped up to the bar, bowing to applause.
I rolled my eyes.
Not to be outdone, I produced the dragonspear above my head. The legendary weapon had a history in this town and always drew patriotic cheers.
"That's cheating," muttered the pixie. She dismissed the ice wall, leaving me to fend for myself.
"And that's petty."
I planted the spear in the floor, triggered my vault skill, and flipped up and onto the bar with practiced ease. I turned to unanimous clapping: the contest was mine. Izzy stuck her tongue out and feigned apathy, but she swapped her wand for the winter staff in an effort to match the presence of my weapon.
"They do this a lot," chuckled Trafford.
I was proud of the general good nature we'd introduced to the guildhall. Standing up here, it was impossible to miss our importance to Stronghold. Residents in the street squeezed for a view through the open double doors. Others settled for posts outside the windows. I scanned the crowd for familiar faces as I waited for them to settle.