by Cosimo Yap
They were sitting in a conference room, hidden deep in the underground labyrinth that was the Black Rose base. Aurora was updating squad leaders with information Alan already knew: Haxlard fleets were now within striking distance of the Empire and Khersath, and there was no word from the Council. The standing orders from up high were as follows: hold to your current positions, patrol the base, and fire on any intruder.
There was one more day until the deadline the Empire had been given was up. If an attack against the Abyss Labyrinth was coming, it would happen soon.
“Sidestep, Alan, I’d like to speak with the two of you privately,” Aurora said after she finished her debriefing.
Officers filed out of closed terminal connections, returning to guard duty. When the final person had left, Aurora sealed the room. No signals would get in or out, and large metal walls closed over the exit.
“If you wanted to spend some quality time with me, you only had to ask,” Sidestep said.
“Quiet,” Aurora said. “I’m in charge of this mess, and having the two of you second-guess my every move while whispering like schoolchildren is the last thing I need.”
“Me? What have I done?” Alan said.
Never ask that question, Lambda sent.
“You’ve shot down every plan I’ve proposed to Thrag,” Aurora said. “You’re just an adviser, in charge of maintenance and surveillance. I still don’t know what it is you and Phantom do, but I am the one that was put in charge of the base while the Council is defending the Abyss Labyrinth. You need to give me the respect that this position deserves.”
Alan sat up a bit straighter in his seat.
Do you want to take a stab at this, or do you want my help? Lambda sent.
I think I’m okay, Alan sent.
“I’m sorry if my comments seemed disrespectful,” Alan said. “I’m just bored, but I’ll try to bring up future criticism in private. Your plan, however, of a tentative alliance with our neighbors and defending each other if any one of us attacked, is flawed.
“We’re weak right now, and our strongest players aren’t here. We’re left with a few hundred bodies to defend the base, and a single capital ship with an admiral best known for running from fights. Perhaps humanoids have developed a stronger sense of morality, and none of the other guilds will take this opportunity to backstab us, but I doubt that’s the case.”
To make his point Alan brought up recent images of rioters and looters on Khersath. “The strong prey on the weak, gangs are running rampant, and martial law has been declared. It won’t be long before other guilds start making moves, too, and any alliance we try to make will have the other party wondering why you’re the one proposing the entreaty, not Elissandra.”
“Alan’s right and you know it,” Sidestep said. “Look, I’m upset as anyone else about being stuck here without knowing what’s going on, and maybe I’m making a few too many snide remarks. Sorry. But this guild wasn’t made with direct, large-scale operations in mind.”
“In the future, perhaps we could go over any plans that you might propose beforehand. I’m more than willing to help iron out any details and assist in planning overall strategy,” Alan said.
Aurora glared at Alan, then ran a hand through her hair. She stepped forward, invading Alan’s personal space and looking down on him. The temperature in the room fell as Sidestep blinked backward.
Maybe I need your help, Alan sent.
Stand your ground, Lambda sent. You aren’t in any real trouble…yet.
“The Mercenary Bloc has survived as an entity because the guilds not only support each other but also mutually own small percentages of each other through the faction. This mitigates both risk and reward, and decreases the likelihood they’ll make a move on us,” Aurora said.
“Destroying us and taking control of our vaults and base would more than make up for that loss,” Alan said.
“When it comes down to it, I can handle disrespect,” Aurora continued. “Mutiny I won’t.”
“Mutiny? Where’s that coming from?” Alan silently checked that the two thermal grenades he’d grabbed from Phantom’s arsenal were active. He could detonate the grenades with a thought, sending an explosive signal that might melt his arm off, but would free him from any ice. They were primed and ready, along with a small repair kit, a week’s worth of food, a med-kit, and two high-energy emerald power crystals.
Alan began to rise from his chair, but Aurora froze him to his seat.
“There it is,” Aurora said. “There’s the look I don’t like. Something has changed—it’s like you’re constantly calculating how you’d kill the whole room.”
Probably because you are, Lambda sent. Looks like I underestimated Aurora. Stay silent, let’s see where she goes with this.
Aurora placed a finger on Alan’s helmet, slowly pacing until she was standing behind him, out of his line of sight. “Our task is to guard this base and protect the central vault at all costs. But how can I be expected to do that when I cannot trust my eyes and ears: a player who seems to want us cut off from reinforcements?”
“I’m not the one who designed the lockdown procedures, Phantom did that,” Alan said. “No messages in or out.”
“Then why have you been sending messages in and out of the base?” Aurora asked. Sidestep moved his hand over to his swords, now also staring at Alan.
Damn, how’d she figure out we’ve been in contact with the Haxlards? Alan sent.
I don’t know, maybe Elissandra has a backdoor in Phantom’s system that Aurora has access to, or there are layers of defenses we’re unaware of. The message was encrypted, so she shouldn’t know the contents or recipient. Make up a good lie, Lambda sent.
A lie? She just read me like an open book, Alan sent.
The best lies contain a grain of truth. Start talking about Eve’s betrayal, you’ve already been silent too long, Lambda sent.
“As I said before, I’ve needed to make a few changes,” Alan said. “My intention isn’t to destroy the guild—it’s to make sure I don’t get screwed over by my AI’s betrayal. She had access to all of my in-game information, so you should understand I have problems I need to deal with, including the possible leakage of Black Rose guild files.”
Aurora said, “Impossible, the rules of the Game–“
“The rules of the Game don’t seem to apply to the forces I’ve been dealing with. Ask Sidestep, he should know about the Archivists,” Alan said.
“Who? Never heard of them,” Sidestep said.
“Repeat that,” Aurora said.
“I’ve never heard of the Archivists,” Sidestep said.
“You know better than to try to get a lie past me,” Aurora said.
Sidestep looked away.
“So this is Revenant business, then,” Aurora said. Sidestep blinked in surprise.
“Yes,” Alan said slowly. “I’m trying to deal with some fallout.”
“And what is that?” Aurora said.
No more information, say she could get banned if you tell her anything else, which is the truth, Lambda sent.
“I can’t say unless you want to risk getting banned from the Game,” Alan said.
There was a pause. Alan wondered how long it would take Aurora to kill him. A flash freeze of psionic energy and then he’d be completely frozen. He’d need to react in the split second she began her attack, a task more difficult because of Eve’s absence, but not impossible. Maybe it was time to go lone wolf, take whatever he could and run for it.
No, wait, Lambda sent.
Aurora walked back around, and sat facing Alan and Sidestep.
“There’s a question of loyalty and strength, then,” she said. “You’ve spent too long with hackers. Know that it will never be profitable to betray the guild. To betray me.”
Alan stared at Aurora, trying to figure out what she was getting at. He decided to throw out a piece of bait—there was only one major power that made any sense, and it made sense based upon what he knew of Aurora
’s past.
“Is the Alliance backing this guild, then? Can we depend on them if we’re attacked, or do we have some obligation to them that I should know about?” Alan asked.
“Straight to the point, as always,” Aurora said. “Yes and no. There are no...direct ties, but we do store items for certain member states.”
“Is there—”
An electric wave raced through Alan’s Machine Lord implant, causing it to skip a beat. There was a ripple in the air, so slight that Alan might have imagined it. A message appeared as alarms began sounding:
Extinction Event: The Haxlard Crusade
Tired of the infidelity and treachery practiced by the Empire, Alliance, and others, the Three have declared that all except the Administrators must convert or face death. The Haxlards will not stop until every player has surrendered or fallen.
The Administrators regret to inform players that no zone is safe. Lost items, decreased levels, and other death penalties will have their full effect in all zones.
Any survivor of the Haxlard Crusade (a player not killed or converted) will receive Major Player status, an immediate 1000-level boost, access to unique abilities, and fifty million platinum marks.
Kills, time survived, and general contribution to defense against the Haxlards will reward Survival Contribution Points. Local, global, and universal leaderboards will display player’s rankings. A separate leaderboard will be added for those that choose to convert. (Note: Conversion to a follower of the Three is permanent and will not be reverted at the end of the event.)
No players will resurrect in-game until the Extinction Event has concluded. Players at the bottom 10% of the event leaderboard will be deleted and removed from the Game unless redeemed by others with Survival Contribution Points. (Note: Players still under new-player protection are not at risk for deletion, but must still participate in the event. No exemptions.)
At the conclusion of the Extinction Event, Survival Contribution Points will be able to be redeemed for marks or any item within the Administrator’s Vault, rates to be determined. In-game areas may be restored to their original status before the Haxlard Crusade, based upon Administrator discretion.
And so it begins, Lambda sent. A new window appeared in Alan’s vision, a miniature counter for his survival points that sat at 0. Everyone would gain one point per day, and as the event went on longer people would gain points at a faster rate.
Holy shit, so Extinction Events are basically like a zombie outbreak or worldwide nuclear fallout—an event that is every survivalist's wet dream. Survive as long as possible, fight against whatever you're up against, Alan sent.
In a nutshell, Lambda replied.
What if we just sped away in a spaceship to the edge of known space and went outwards? Couldn’t we survive that way? Alan asked.
The Game would likely spawn or transport Haxlard threats ahead of you. This is a test, though past Extinction Events have taken decades to conclude, Lambda sent. This one probably won’t take nearly as long. We should figure out what’s happening, though.
“Damn it all, why begin now,” Aurora said. She sent out a message to the guild to prepare their defenses and notify her if anything entered Black Rose territory. “We will not weather this onslaught if we do not have full faith in each other. I need to know that I can trust you, Alan.”
“I will work hard to defend this base, as it’s currently our best bet for survival. I’m still a member of this guild, and don’t plan on becoming enslaved to the Three any time soon,” Alan said.
Sidestep blinked over to a console connected to a holographic projector and accessed the globalnet. Several video feeds of current events popped up, covering the walls. Aurora and Alan watched the screens. All across the universe, Haxlardian forces were at war, invading planets at the edge of Haxlard space or defending against proactive players attacking their worlds. Alan focused on a few live streams that covered Khersath.
It seemed like things were going well. The Haxlard Embassy had been immediately bombed out of existence, a smoking crater left where the building once stood. The only problem was there had been collateral damage—an adjacent block was now also rubble, with many desperate rescue attempts underway. Laser fire and smoke soon covered the screen.
Alan confirmed with Lambda that no matter how you died during an Extinction Event it still counted. Even if you were taken out by friendly forces, it would solidify your rank in the leaderboards and force you to wait out the remainder of the time in Cyberspace, hoping that your friends or allies earned enough points to bail you out. Alan checked the guild charter—the Black Rose guild promised to buy members back from deletion first and foremost.
Another feed showed the Haxlard fleets that had gathered near Khersath. They were being chased away by an assortment of various military factions, individual players, and Khersath’s own military fleet funded by player taxes.
Then what appeared to be a wormhole opened up in the sky, and the Weaver emerged.
Chapter 17
Aurora activated a communication device, connecting to Thrag, who was maintaining his position overhead. “Are you watching this?”
“The moon-sized beauty that’s about to tear through those fleets like a destroyer? You bet I am. Shall I prepare the ship for a mass evacuation?” Thrag asked.
“No,” Aurora said.
The Weaver fired off massive ion cannons at the approaching fleets. Each shot reminded Alan of the Death Star’s laser, except instead of causing a planet to explode, the pale white beams went through and disabled a third of the massive capital ships.
A swarm of destroyer-class drones the size of skyscrapers emerged from the Weaver, which was distorting the camera recording the battle so that its surface remained shrouded in grey static. It looked like a blurry moon on the feed. The drones were backed up by the Haxlardian fleet, and together they charged forward.
The remains of the fleet that had been valiantly ready to defend Khersath only moments earlier scattered in every direction possible, turning weapons on friends and foes alike. It was a giant clusterfuck, trillions of credits disappearing before Alan’s eyes.
Why are they firing on the ships without power? Alan sent.
Ships are settling old grudges, trying to make sure they aren’t the last ones out—or they’re making sure the scraps the Weaver recovers don’t allow for more powerful drones to be made, Lambda sent.
“Aurora, I know you don’t want to leave your mother behind, but there’s no way we’re surviving whatever the hell that is,” Thrag said. “Khersath is a single planet. Retreat is the best option possible.”
“No area, no faction will be safe. If anything, it may prove most prudent to retreat into the Abyss Labyrinth rather than open space,” Aurora replied. She pointed to two other screens, showing the Empire and Alliance each dealing with one of the Three as well, which were bolstered by Haxlardian forces.
The Shepherd, a master of deadly viruses and a massive army of biological, mutant hounds, was reported to have attacked the Alliance. Waves of planets were reporting billions of sick and infected, wildlife gone insane.
The Smith, a legendary craftsman backed up by legions of Ultihaxlards named the Black Guard, was making short work of the Empire’s defenses. It only took a handful of the Black Guard, wearing the strongest power armor in existence and wielding weapons that were said to rival soulsteel, to take over any major fortification.
Meanwhile the Weaver moved closer, its drone fleet absorbing carcasses of the ships as new drones appeared, chasing down retreating ships that made a desperate escape. Streams of ships were abandoning Khersath, heading in the direction opposite the Weaver’s approach.
The stream ended, the source either destroyed or deciding the broadcast was not worth the risk.
“Girl, I’m not going to let Thrasha become the Weaver’s afternoon snack,” Thrag said. “You were left in charge of the base, but I have command of the fleet, and I’m getting out of here with or without you.”
Aurora paused, and then said, “Leave. You won’t be of much help anyways. Try to stay in a nearby system if possible. We might need you to bail us out.”
Thrag grunted. “The Haxlards will be sure to set up a blockade once they gain control of the airspace, but I’ll see what I can do. Good luck and good hunting.”
Tell him to leave Khersath perpendicular to the Weaver’s approach, not directly opposite like the rest of the fools, Lambda sent.
Alan relayed Lambda’s advice.
“Why?” Thrag asked.
Alan thought for a moment, and then realized the answer for himself. “We see the Weaver, its drones, and the Haxlardian fleet. But where are the Weaver’s autonomous ships? Its capital-class fleet?”
“You’re right; they’re likely lying in ambush in space. This will be trickier than I thought, but if I wasn’t good at getting away they wouldn’t call me—”
“Leave,” Aurora said. She shut off the connection.
Alan maintained awareness of the Black Rose base’s sensors, and detected Thrag’s ship, Thrasha, departing Khersath.
“At the current rate of progress, when do you suppose the Weaver will reach us, Alan?” Sidestep asked.
Eve? Alan began to ask. But no, Eve was gone. In her place was the hollow, empty shell of an AI that was no more than a calculator. Alan struggled through the calculations himself, making haphazard guesses and assumptions. Between three hours and two days? Does that sound right, Lambda?
Sure, somewhere around there, Lambda replied. He was focused on the feeds displaying battles across the Game. Many were being cut off, one by one.
“Maybe a few hours, maybe a few days,” Alan said.
“That’s the best you can do? I could have told you that,” Sidestep said.