I shelled out two grand. Despite having made a big hole in my budget, it was definitely worth it.
I asked the vendor about any potential places to stay and received some very detailed directions. Apparently, the entire perimeter of the Market Deck was lined with living modules. In whichever direction we went, we could still get there.
The whole respawn point transfer procedure seemed a bit iffy to me. The vendor rubbed some silvery goo into Charon's and my forearms and reported happily, "All done!"
"What's this, then?" I studied an oblong silver spot just above my wrist.
"That's a marker," the vendor informed me. "Effective within range of up to ten light seconds from the station. Anything further than that is your responsibility."
I imagined the scenario: me and my ship, millions of miles away from my new respawn point. In case of trouble, I'd find myself back here at Founders Square, but what was going to become of the ship?
I asked the vendor about it. He shrugged. "Normally, pilots fly either in groups or at least in twos. So there's always somebody to tow your ship back to the station or at least to keep an eye on it."
"And if that's not the case?"
"We don't cover spacecraft. You might need to talk to some of the technologists about that. They might know of a solution. Or," he lowered his voice and leaned across the counter toward me, "try and find one of the Outlaws' bases in the asteroid belt. There're rumors they've cracked the Phantom Raiders' mystery. Because we don't get very many of the Outlaws' downed ships."
"Oh really?"
"Oh really what?" he said nonchalantly. "Have I just told you something?" the vendor gave me a barely noticeable wink. "In any case, Sir, I would be quite interested in buying some rare equipment. So if you find anything, I'll be very happy to consider it. Trust me you won't regret it."
New quest alert! Immortal Hardware!
Find any of the Outlaws' bases and try to find out more about the ancient technology they recently discovered.
* * *
"Come on, Charon. Time to go."
Enough for one day. I was already fed up with today's dose of adventure. I could barely stand on my feet. I still wasn't hungry or thirsty, but Charon was already ogling a vending machine offering food tubes. To me, they looked utterly gross but I was surprised that he could be hungry at all.
"Fancy some?"
He nodded energetically, his eyes glowing with excitement.
He was a mystery to me. I walked over to the machine and bought a few tubes of my choice for him.
He swallowed them whole right there, wrappers and all. The nearest androids swung round to the distinct chattering sound of his teeth, but immediately lost interest, noticing his slave collar.
It was better he didn't remove it at all. Which made the freedom I'd promised him rather questionable. Charon didn't protest, though. He followed me meekly and obediently, showing no return aggression to anyone around.
I immediately thought about the earlier docking incident with the two mechanics. He'd behaved totally different then.
I remembered seeing him in the ship's cockpit: a free pilot, proud and confident. Apparently, the Haash possessed some enviable acting skills.
Then again, maybe he'd taken my clever little ploy seriously. If so, he'd probably accepted his fate thinking that I'd simply betrayed him.
Never mind. We'd talk it all over once we got to the hotel.
"Come on now," I pulled his hand, motioning him to follow me into the nearest street. It led from the central square away to the enormous hall's perimeter.
There we discovered lots of oblong hatches that lined the hall's walls, with a holographic sign next to each. I checked them and shook my head. Capsule hotels weren't for the likes of us.
We spent some time looking for suitable lodgings. Finally, we'd chosen Gardean's Living Blocks — or so the ethereal advertisement claimed.
The hatch creaked slightly as I opened it. Charon had to stoop as he entered, otherwise his head would have hit the doorway.
Another long corridor lined with identical oblong doors. A lamp cast a cozy light from the reception at the far end of the passage. Noticing the Haash, the owner rose, reaching for his weapon.
I sensed Charon's hot breath on the crown of my head. "Keep out of it," I warned him just in case.
Then I walked confidently up to the counter. Charon breathed in fits behind me, sensing a threat and ready to charge.
I warned him once again, then smiled to the owner. "How much do you charge a night, Sir?"
"Twenty credits."
"I thought it said ten by the entrance?"
"You can be thankful I'm letting you in at all," his cheek twitched. He eyed the Haash. "Doing your bit of exo harvesting?"
I shrugged, making it clear it was none of his business. "Agreed. Here's a hundred," I noticed a payment terminal and hurried to transfer the money. In return he offered me a smirk and an electronic key.
The living block was warm and clean. A soft porous carpeting covered the floor. The five-sided room was small, a bit like a honeycomb: a basic hygiene unit in a corner and a folding bed along the wall opposite the station network terminal.
The massive hatch shuddered shut. Two new icons appeared before my mental eye: Open and Block from inside.
Naturally, I chose the latter.
It took me a few moments to work out the collar controller. Then I removed the deactivated collar from Charon's neck. Finally!
He cricked his neck, mistrustful.
"Didn't I tell you it was only a trick?"
He stared into my eyes long and hard. Gradually his gaze softened as understanding grew within.
"I know it can't have been easy for you. I'm afraid you'll have to grin and bear it for a tiny bit longer until I can think of a way to legalize you here at the station. But now at least you can log out. Do you understand? You do have somewhere to go back to, don't you?"
He didn't answer.
Very well. I was more than sure he knew what I meant. Then it was up to him. Personally, I was logging out. I needed some quality sleep, a meal and a shower. Followed by the next point on my agenda: having a heart-to-heart with Arbido.
"That's it," I pulled the bed down, lay on top of it and closed my eyes. "But whatever happens, Charon — promise me not to leave the room!"
The logout button glowed green, calling my name.
I pressed it.
Chapter Three
Logout
I was back!
Gradually my eyesight began to focus. My body was numb. I could make out a convex translucent surface in front of my face and the blurred outline of my room behind it.
Back to reality.
Only now could I pluck up enough courage to admit: I'd been so scared to lose this thin bond between the physical and made-up worlds which I'd been so eager to break before my introduction to Phantom Server.
The grass is always greener, as they say.
My muscles felt quite fit. I wouldn't say I was wide awake and bursting with energy — my eyes felt dry and tired — but even this initial awakening surprisingly felt like good news.
The fact is, it's not real life itself that matters. It's knowing that you can come back at any time — the sheer freedom of choice. Apparently, once you are stripped of that choice, things aren't so funny anymore. Especially when you are stuck in a totally unknown world.
I had lots of things to do. No time to go to bed yet. I touched the glowing rune of an icon. Air hissed. The translucent lid began to rise.
My implant reacted predictably. The in-mode is off.
I grasped at the sides of the capsule and sat up, then scrambled out and headed for the shower. I needed to freshen myself up.
My head was going round a bit but I knew it would soon pass. Standing under the hot jets, I tried to depressurize. The Phantom Server had left a lasting imprint on my mind. I studied my forearm — no sight of any implants. I wiped myself dry and put some clean clothes on, then wa
lked over to the front door. No sign of a break-in. The in-mode technicians were no dodgy customers. They'd got a proper entry clearance. I had this lock with special tracking software: it didn't prevent a break-in but it did signal an intrusion. This time there'd been none: their so-called "technical support team" had used a copy of my own electronic key complete with my biometric data. Just like a medical response team!
Now I had three potential courses of action.
1. I could cancel the contract and send the neuroimplant back to the developers.
2. I could keep the implant but never go back to continue the alpha testing of the Phantom Server.
3. Alternatively, I could stay in the game.
I sat at the table, ordered a breakfast and began thinking. I wasn't sure about the right choice yet. Each of the three had its own pros and cons, but do you know what actually worried me?
You will never believe it. The Haash prisoners' fate.
Was I finally losing it? In game as in real life, it was every man for himself, wasn't it? No one had overrun this simple rule yet. It's true that I had always tended to join the forces of Light whenever I played a game. Then again, this Light also came with certain strings attached. Most likely — if I had to be brutally honest with myself — I was simply attracted by their design and all the potential abilities. But I'd never been a clan player. Sometimes, yes, depending on a particular assignment or out of dire necessity: then I could indeed work as part of a team but it never attracted me as such. It was a choice that must have initially been formed by the nature of my work for Arbido. Then I'd simply got used to it. I must have realized that any voluntary responsibility for other people's lives was a moral burden I could live without. Also, I hated obeying various statuses and charts. Freedom and adventure were my religion, unconcerned and commitment-free.
The thought of Arbido grated on my nerves.
First thing we had to do was to talk. I needed my money back as well as some information. Then I'd decide what to do next.
* * *
I never found Arbido. But I didn't push too hard, either. I created a new account in the Crystal Sphere for a bit of nostalgic leveling. I made level 5 and sold some penny loot. The game's rather boring opening offered a player plenty of motivation to seek any easy side routes — but no such luck.
No one offered me any shady services.
Very well. I did the same in another game world where I knew Arbido had a long and established history.
Not an online manager in sight. Not one of his old contacts still around.
I went as far as to buy a new microchip and change my nano comp's IP address. I knew from experience that any potential client always left in his wake what I'd call the "matching customer to product" trail. All of their online searches and their entire browsing history were meticulously recorded and analyzed in order to ensure that everyone could find exactly what he wanted.
Now this worried me quite a bit. Arbido seemed to have disappeared off my radars — and so had my money.
I wasn't in the brightest of moods when I finally logged out. Only when I glanced at the clock did I realize I'd been deprived of sleep for over twenty-four hours.
Our — my and Charon's — escape from slavery followed by our trip to the station and everything it implied had taken almost ten hours in actual time. In total, I'd spent a whopping two days in the Phantom Server.
Time to catch a few Zs. It never pays to take important decisions while unable to think straight. I switched on each and every security device, climbed back into the capsule, sealed it and activated the in-mode.
* * *
The following day brought no relief. Arbido seemed to have vanished into thin air. I spent a couple of hours in the Crystal Sphere just watching other players and following the newsfeed.
Nothing new there. Not one of the artifacts I'd handed over to him had resurfaced in the local network. All the other agents known to me were offline.
I was bored out of my mind. The neuroimplant was working at maybe ten percent of its true capacity. Now I knew exactly how it could make me feel.
I wondered about Charon. What would he be doing now?
I walked over to the window and stood there staring at the city enveloped in industrial haze.
Arbido could wait, my gut feeling told me. He must simply be lying low. It had happened before during some major Net police raids.
So what was I waiting for, then? My Phantom Server account had been paid for. I had lots of things to do there.
A thin voice of reason tried to talk me out of it, reminding me of all the dangers these new neuronet technologies could harbor. But the thought had only challenged me. I was now itching to go back.
Surely I'd be able to raise some money to have those implants installed. And I wasn't going to let them catch me so stupidly the next time. I was desperate to get back now. The miserable cityscape behind my window annoyed and frustrated me. I knew myself well enough. I wouldn’t be able to wait for much longer.
I turned round and looked at the open capsule.
Yes. That was it. I was going back.
The thought alone allowed me to breathe easier.
* * *
Login
I opened my eyes. I was lying on a narrow folding bed.
A strange spicy smell hovered in the air. Not unpleasant — just alien. Wary. I sat up and looked around me.
Charon lay sprawled out by the door. He didn't move.
I stood up and tried to shake him awake. Pointless. I listened to his breathing: it was level. Was he asleep? Or had he logged out too?
I'd no idea what happened to a logged-out player's avatar in this particular world. Normally, it should just disappear. But the Phantom Server seemed to be living by its own rules. Nothing would surprise me.
Charon's face was calm and peaceful. His skin, however, was covered with droplets of some substance which produced the smell that had alarmed me earlier.
I tried to shake him awake again — to no avail. I struggled to drag his limp body into a far corner and concentrated.
What was I supposed to do with him now? If Charon had logged out, then why was his avatar's heart still beating? Why was his skin warm, why was he breathing? That wasn't right.
I had no one to turn to for advice. All I could do was sit there and wait until he came round.
I left the Haash alone and slumped into a chair opposite the network terminal. I wanted to look into the local market.
First things first. I had to research this implant thing and, more importantly, find some money for the surgery.
The station network was crammed full of offers but admittedly dodgy ones. I didn't need a cottage job, that's for sure. Not one of the tempting affordable offers contained any clear-cut explanations. I opened one at random.
I'll install a basic mind expander for as little as 1000 credits. Ask for Claus the mnemotech at the 7th market block.
How cool was that? As if I'd allow some cowboy brain surgeon to mess with my head! What kind of expanders were they? Where had he gotten them from? Had he looted them off something or someone or just bought a second-hand one?
No, thanks. Anything but that.
It's not that I was too choosy — just wary of any potential problems. Such cyborgization of an avatar was going to seriously affect the character itself. This wasn't a mediocre sword or a suit of armor which you could keep for a while, hoping one day to swap it for something really good.
So I kept looking into it, searching for any criteria.
A mind expander is a neuronet module responsible for the reception and processing of incoming data from any implants or gear sensors. It exists in three basic models:
SynapsX. Receives data from gear sensors only. Its advantages: low cerebral overload parameters (needs 4 pt. Intellect, 4 pt. Willpower, 3 pt. Learning Skills) and low price. Downsides: your perception range will depend on the gear you wear. Any gear sensor damage will render the implant useless. Recommended for mercenarie
s, low-rank mechanics, small-craft pilots, crafters and artifact hunters.
Not for me, probably. I shifted in the hard chair, trying to get comfortable. What's the point in wearing a mind-expanding implant which demands the donning of expensive gimmick-packed gear?
So I went on reading,
Synaps2. Works exclusively with implants. Its advantages: average cerebral overload parameters (needs 5 pt. Intellect, 5 pt. Willpower, 5 pt. Learning Skills) and the possibility of linking it up with a one-off choice of three sealed cyber modules (which are implanted simultaneously with the mind expander). Downsides: once chosen, this configuration cannot be altered or upgraded. Recommended for all-round pilots, owners of cargo craft and mid-rank mechanics.
This looked interesting. Having said that, I hadn't decided on my specialization yet. I didn't want to risk choosing the wrong cyber modules.
Well, what did they have next?
SynapsZ Universal. Five slots are implanted into your skull, capable of housing multi-task cyber modules. Its downsides: high cerebral overload parameters (needs 7 pt. Intellect, 7 pt. Willpower and 7 pt. Learning Skills) and high price. Its advantages: the possibility of flexible module configuration depending on the task at hand and the ability to manually replace modules in slots. Recommended for scientists, technologists, mnemotechs, exobiologists and raid leaders as well as large spacecraft and squadron commanders.
The mind boggles. That was it, yes. But the price was going through the roof.
Never mind. One day we'd make it. The first few steps are never easy. One thing was for sure: I should take my time choosing the right implants. In the meantime, I could do very well on peripherals.
A sharp screeching noise attracted my attention.
Edge of Reality (Phantom Server: Book #1) Page 11