Edge of Reality (Phantom Server: Book #1)

by Andrei Livadny

  This couldn't be happening. My mind was awash with an icy feeling of danger, blurring again until the stars stretched into straight lines — and then disappeared.

  The gray mist quivered around me, thickening into rough stone walls.

  Once again I stood on a hard surface. My heart beat slowly, the pain in my chest melting slowly.

  The air here was cold and thin. Where was my suit? I stepped forward, feeling the roughly chiseled wall. A weak echo reached me. I noticed a dull light ahead.

  I walked toward it.

  Gradually the walls parted, the light growing brighter. Now I understood. I was inside an asteroid riddled with mine shafts and galleries.

  The short tunnel took me outside to a small opening. In the past, it had been used as a landing pad for cargo ships. A few remaining parts of docking mechanisms were broken and powdered with dust.

  The landing ended in the ragged edge of an abyss. The cosmos lay beyond.

  Where was I? Where was the Founders' station?

  "Liori!"

  My voice echoed back to me.

  No answer. Then the asteroid's rotation brought an enormous technogenic structure into view.

  This wasn't a station. This was something much more than that. Its size defied imagination. I could observe a multitude of spired structures pointing into space, their configuration mirroring the outline of the sky's unfamiliar constellations.

  This incredible space creation was filled with a silvery mist as if it was wrapped in a gauze of the finest dust.

  The mind expander automatically zoomed in on the structure. It focused on one of the specks of silvery dust, bringing its familiar outline into view.

  A Phantom Raider?

  Billions of them, their serried ranks surrounding the mammoth structure.

  Some of the towering structures oscillated with charges of lightning, pulsating each in its own rhythm.

  "Server..."

  Barely audible, Liori's voice was a mere whisper coming from the depths of the Universe.

  Once again the stars blurred to fiery lines and disappeared.

  * * *

  I shuddered back to life, feeling my body pumped with metabolites.

  The place was almost dark. A squat figure clad in a Dargian suit with no helmet nervously shifted from one foot to the other next to me. Further on I could just make out the figures of the Haash hunched up in the small space between the rows of seats haphazardly welded to the cargo container's floor.

  My throat was dry, my muscles taut to the point of cramping. My mind expander was in overdrive.

  "Arbido," my voice sounded like a croak.

  With a startle, he turned to me.

  "Can I have a drink?"

  He fussed about, ripping open our emergency supply and bringing a plastic flask to my lips.

  I struggled to take a couple of gulps. It felt better. "Tell me. How long has it been?"

  "Just over an hour. Zander, I thought you'd never come round."

  Judging by the smooth acceleration, we must have been in outer space. "Cut the crap, just tell me."

  "The Haash have kept the ship," he looked me in the eye as if not daring to ask some important question. "We found you lying next to Liori's ship. You were flat out. We tried to bring you round with some metabolites but they didn't work. Frieda scanned your brain and said you might not get back at all. Zander... is that true about your second neuronet?"

  "Yes," I saw no point in keeping it from him. The images still crowded my mind, defying explanation. "Have you found Liori?"

  He frowned, shaking his head. "She's gone. No idea where her respawn point is."

  "Give me a hand."

  He helped me to my feet. My bulky suit crowded out the small space between the seats, its surface twinkling with electric charges. The built-in repair systems squeaked to life, their thin manipulators snaking around the suit, the breaches gradually filling with a hardening purple substance.

  My mind expander kicked in, activating its interface icons. The darkness dispersed. I could see clearly now.

  Hanging onto the backs of the seats, I made my way forward to the cockpit. Danezerath hunched himself up in the crowded space, forced to lean forward in a pilot's seat too small for a Haash. Still, you could see he knew how to fly a ship. The makeshift observation window offered a panoramic view of outer space, including the corner of the station with the Founders' starship clinging to it.

  The second cargo module was on a parallel course with our own, closely followed by the Emgles.

  I could see some strange dots moving amid the station's molten hull structures. Mechanically I zoomed in. The Haash! They were busy towing four of their ships by hand — those that the Dargians had kept on the launch pads. Two of the Condors — one burned and deformed, the other virtually intact — already waited next to the ancient starship's docking pods. Next to them I made out the figures of the surviving mercs.

  "Jurgen," I sent him a mnemonic PM.

  He didn't sound too happy to hear from me. He was his usual paranoid self. "We need to talk."

  "Why, what's the problem?"

  "Frieda scanned your brain and she says that the scans showed nothing but the Founders' network activity for at least an hour."

  "So what do you suggest? Spit it out."

  A flat latticed surface came into my metal view.

  "What's this?"

  "This is your neurogram," Jurgen answered. "As you can see, not a single spike the whole time. And this," a 3D image replaced it, covered with peaks of activity, "this is the scan of your two neuronet modules. I'm very sorry, but I can't be a hundred percent sure I'm speaking to you and not to some ancient AI."

  "I'm fine. It's you who is paranoid."

  "That remains to be seen."

  "We have no time for all this. Didn't you say that two artifacts weren't enough to form a proper-"

  "In this case would you be so kind to explain where your mind has been for the last hour? Frieda is an expert mnemotech. She needs to know what's going on."

  "She's very welcome. But not now."

  I had a funny feeling I knew where my mind had traveled to. This was something you might find hard to accept but I knew I'd seen those pointy structures in some database or other. They were supposed to be the hyperspace communication devices that the Founders used to transmit their identity matrices from one star system to the other.

  And what if everything I'd seen in my unconscious state was more than just a hallucination?

  Did that mean I'd seen the Phantom Server? The central juncture of the Founders' network? Or was it the second AI that had uploaded the images to my mind?

  My heart twanged with frustration. Liori. I refused to believe she was dead.

  The cargo module's landing gear touched down on the station's hull.

  * * *

  We disembarked. The two Condors were already sitting in the docking pods. The surviving Haash stubbornly towed their four craft toward the Founders' starship.

  The children looked around in amazement. Then they filed on board the starship, shepherded by Arbido. Judging by the few reports I'd received, they'd already managed to seal several living modules and restored their life support systems.

  The ship's reactor functioned at 20%. The power system was intact. As for the rest, the entire scope of the repair works wasn't yet clear.

  Four mercs and twelve Haash. That's all the survivors. Those of the Haash who hadn't had their personal marks changed must have respawned too, but we had no idea where.

  The ship's corridors were empty. Everything here screamed of a desperate battle. The walls were dented and molten, covered in blood. Many of the cables and much of the pipework had been damaged in the shootout.

  I finally found Jurgen in one of the modules of the radar center.

  We did need to talk. We needed to set the record straight. This ship could only have one commander. I could understand his suspicions about me being the host to an alien neuronet but so far I d
idn't feel any intrusion into my personality and I was quite prepared to stand by my conviction.

  Restored by the Dargians, the location equipment took up a large hall in its entirety — decompressed but functional. An enormous holographic screen domed overhead, receiving data from the sensors.

  Jurgen turned round. "Perfect timing!"

  He seemed to have forgotten about our argument, at least for the time being. Whatever had happened now?

  Noticing the anxiety in my stare, he pointed at a cluster of dots.

  I frowned, unable to read the data. "What's that?"

  Jurgen paused. The device nearest to us was blinking with a plethora of multicolored lights, its screens filling with the scrolling lines of the Founders' fancy script.

  I peered at them. They formed messages that became perfectly clear to me,

  Unidentified signatures detected

  Intense radio traffic detected

  Decoding in process. Decryption equipment activated

  "Number one to flagship. Scanning and orbiting completed. Initial data confirmed. Argus is being controlled by xenomorphs."

  "Flagship to number one. Withdraw. We are initiating an attack."

  My blood ran cold. I looked up, zooming in on Argus, watching the cluster of sparks heading toward it.

  The Eurasia fleet had entered the space of the Darg system.

  We kept scanning and listening in.

  "Number seven to flagship. I'm within range. Have completed my approach. The station is abandoned. An unidentified signature detected."

  My skin began to crawl: a familiar sensation.

  "Penetration scanning completed. Unidentified spacecraft detected. It's docked on the station. Signs of organic life on board detected."

  "Who are they?"

  "I'm not sure, Sir. The signals are mixed. It looks like the ship's crew is made of both humans and xenomorphs."

  "They have to be Outlaws. They did warn us about them back on Earth, didn't they? Number seven, forward their coordinates to the assault group."

  They meant us.

  Should we contact them, should we try to explain? Pointless. They thought this was a game. For us, this was life.

  I wasn't quite prepared to drop to my knees and plead for mercy, sacrificing the Haash in the hope of saving our bacon.

  Jurgen was pale. He looked lost.

  "Remove the engines' governors!" I barked. "Increase reactor power!"

  "Zander, you can't-" his voice was rife with emotion. He knew what I was going to do.

  "I can and I will."

  No time to ponder the alternatives. Once again we'd been thrown into the thick of it. We were under attack — so basically, we had no choice. It was either do or die.

  * * *

  The entrance to the Founders' cockpit was blocked by the iridescent shimmer of a power field. As I approached, it disappeared.

  The room was small, with only three antigravity pilot's seats installed. But then... that was funny. The seats actually fit human anatomy. Now why would the Dargians have installed them if they were so apparently big for them?

  Later. I had no time for it now.

  I took the first pilot's seat. Triggered by the seat sensors' signals, holographic screens sprang to life. Astronavigational control columns hung with assorted devices softly rose out of the deck.

  The Founders' starships used to be controlled by AIs: a big problem which the Dargians had failed to solve. I connected to the ship's network and its external sensors, scanning both hemispheres. All I did so, it made me realize that although I had access to all of the ship's subsystems, together they created an incredibly complex web that lacked a nucleus.

  Their controls were like nothing I'd seen before. I reached for the spongy joysticks. My mind expander was working flat out. I saw the two Emgles that hastened to come down, covering two large holes in the ship's hull with their bodies.

  My breathing sped up. Hundreds of devices were trying to connect to my mind, mistaking me for the system's brain.

  Steady, Zander.

  I disconnected from everything I didn't need, leaving only the engine control, navigation, weapons and shields.

  The palms of my hands became sweaty in the gloves, my fingers somehow sensing the thrust triggers. My mind plunged into digispace.

  Please don't let me down, I addressed the two ancient neuronet modules within me. The tingling sensation turned to intense heat as both artifacts took control over from me. My mind blurred, then came back with amazing clarity.

  Data began streaming through my mind. Now I could feel all of the ship's subsystems as part of my own body. No idea how long it was going to last though.

  "Zander, the engines are ungoverned. Charon and I are coming."

  "No. Stay where you are. Distribute the subsystems between yourselves and control them from the reserve positions."

  * * *

  The Eurasian fighters were getting closer. Their pilots had switched to encrypted channels, but the Founders' deciphering module decoded their messages in no time.

  "Number seven to flagship. The enemy craft has changed its signature and is preparing to launch."

  "Attack it. Disable its shields. Destroy its engines. Do whatever it takes but don't let it escape. The assault group is one light minute away."

  The swarm of bright dots split up. Twenty of them — the new improved versions of Condors — came for us.

  Our reactors were at 50%. Plasma-forming had commenced in their working zone. My docking pylons — yes, mine, that's exactly how I felt it — grappled the station's hull.

  It shuddered from impacts.

  "We're under attack!"

  "All posts be prepared!"

  The ship's shields were throbbing. I activated the space defense systems. The upper hemisphere weapons opened up with automatic fire. The assault group was heading straight for us, trying an attacking pass but unable to break through our barrage fire. We shot down three of the Condors; the others turned back and resumed scanning, seeking for gaps in our defense.

  The ship shuddered again. The station didn't want to let us go. Some of the millennia-old docking pylons had jammed.

  I activated the lower thrusters. The unyielding docking pylons crunched under pressure. A few of them ripped out of the station's hull together with some of its superstructure. The starship listed to one side as it took off followed by a trail of debris, but its body was intact, its shields still absorbing the impacts, the upper hemisphere turrets chattering away.

  The station's surface dipped sharply downwards.

  I maneuvered slowly. Stars drifted by the observation window. My stare, supported by the location sensors, focused on the asteroid belt.

  I became engulfed in the throbbing aura of power fields. Deep space was my natural environment.

  I was millions of years old.

  The cruise thrusters kicked in. It felt like a miraculous liberation from an age-long captivity.

  My mind kept changing, remolding. No idea what kind of creature I'd be once this was over.

  The Founders' station opened up to my mental eye, dull and static apart from one particular location signaling an anomaly.

  I concentrated. My heart missed a beat. About seventy miles away from the launch pad, the ship's sensors detected a familiar power imprint.

  An active respawn point.

  The engines throbbed powerfully and monotonously, continuing to accelerate. The remaining five enemy ships dared not pursue us.

  The scanning sphere was pockmarked with pale dots, but the assault group was unlikely to catch up with us. Our star pilgrim was way out of their league.

  I made out thick clusters of rocks up ahead. Beyond them lay the Universe — the untraveled void of outer space.

  I accelerated. The G-force absorbers kept the crew safe as the ship covered millions of miles within minutes. The sheer power of this mammoth was beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

  I carefully decelerated as the ship immers
ed into the asteroid belt — the domain of the Outlaws.

  It calculated its course while I maneuvered amid clumps of enormous boulders that closed back up behind me, shield-like.

  My temples were throbbing. There was no one pursuing us anymore.

  My strength was dwindling quickly. These past few minutes felt like a whole new life. I directed the ship toward a family of asteroids and synchronized my speed with their orbital parameters.

  I killed the engines. We were coasting through a thick mass of space boulders.

  My mind felt as if it had been re-fused. The ship's sensors focused my stare, searching for the barely discernible glint of the Founders' station.

  My caked lips whispered, "Liori, hold on. I'm coming."

  * * *

  Jurgen, Arbido and Charon were waiting for me next to the docking module.

  Jurgen tried to step in my way. "Where d'you think you're going?"

  I shoved him aside. "I'm taking a Condor. I'm going to get Liori."

  "You can't take it anywhere without the activation code!"

  I didn't answer. I opened the hatch. The Founders' neuronet modules in my body were sure to override any code.

  "Zander, wait! You can't do it!"

  Why did he need to interfere? Didn't he understand that every second was precious?

  I swung round, clenching my teeth. "You seem to have forgotten all about Gehenna."

  "No," he locked my eyes with his angry, determined stare. "Zander, please. Keep your hair on. Ralph has the code. It's his Condor. It'll only take seconds. In fact, I might go instead. I can do it just as well as you, trust me."

  "This is nothing to do with you. This is about me."

  "But Zander, what if you don't come back? Do you expect us to keep drifting? Waiting for the Outlaws to arrive? You're the only person who can fly this thing, don't forget!"

  His words barely reached me through a fog of raging emotion. My mind was still metamorphing. On one hand, I sensed myself being the nucleus of this enormous starship but on the other, this sensation faded under the pressure of all the reviving human emotions.