by R H Nolan
As he lay down beneath his thin blanket just inside the hut, Max couldn’t stop thinking about the Bug waiting for him underground. Now that he’d saved the settlement, now that he was safe, he had a serious debt to repay. He’d promised Zryk he’d come back to help the Qirinian repair his starship, and he didn’t see how he could possibly break that promise.
He didn’t even bother to remove his skates or the black armor Zryk had given him. Thinking about what he had to do in the morning, Max drifted off to sleep, trying not to dwell on the images of all the things he’d done to so many Bloodletters and Chaotix. It only briefly occurred to him that for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t have to force away the pangs of an empty stomach… or the normal fear and anxiety of barely surviving another day in the Wastelands.
11
The next morning, Max woke like he did every day—with the rising sun shining in his face and the black monolith of Neo Angeles jutting in stark contrast from the desert floor. It took him a few seconds to remember what he had to do, then he tossed the blanket aside and got quickly to his feet.
“Max?”
His mom stirred beneath the blankets and pushed herself up onto her elbows.
“I’m heading out,” he said softly, trying not to wake Kier. “See what I can find for us today.”
He couldn’t tell her about Zryk or the starship, and she hadn’t yet asked about how he’d been able to drive off the raiders when he’d returned to their shanty town. But she frowned at him and tilted her head.
“Please be careful,” she whispered.
“Always,” he said, then turned and stepped out of their hut into the Wastelands. “I’ll be back before it rains.”
He didn’t come across anyone else at all on his way back to the tunnel into Zryk’s ship. No Bloodletters, no Chaotix, no Sandwalkers. Everything was completely still but for the wind blowing layers of sand across the tops of the dunes and the spray his skates kicked up behind him.
That didn’t mean Max felt entirely at peace as he made his way swiftly across the desert. Sure, he’d managed a better night of sleep than he remembered having in a long time, but now that he had nothing to distract him as he moved, his mind flooded with the images of what he’d done the night before.
Disintegrating the Chaotik’s head beneath his hands, splitting bodies in two with his energy blasts, frying the Bloodletter who had attacked him—the memories played over and over, and he couldn’t get them to stop.
The worst part about it was knowing he couldn’t even run from those floating orbs of muted light that had lifted from every man he’d killed. Max had no choice in whether or not they entered him, and he still didn’t know what any of it meant. Hopefully, while he repaid his debt to Zryk and helped the alien get the parts for the starship, he’d find some explanation about how to keep that from happening. Maybe he’d even figure out how to improve his Accuracy scores, if he ever had to use these new powers again like he had last night.
Then he remembered Oryk’s face when he’d confronted the Bloodletter chief—not quite fear, but definitely confusion and an odd curiosity. If the man had been telling the truth about the Chaotix and Bloodletters having nothing to do with the vanished Peacewinds…
That brought another wave of anxiety on top of everything he was still dealing with from the raid. It also meant that even more of Max’s people would likely keep disappearing, because something had to be taking them.
It was still just as easy to find the opening to the tunnel, and the pod was waiting there for him. Inside the ship, Max barely had to think about which corridors to take on his way to the stasis chamber, which was where he’d just assumed Zryk would be waiting for him. He was right.
The Bug turned away from the central computer when Max entered and lifted a front hand in greeting. Max took a deep breath and walked toward him until a voice appeared from nowhere—
Inside his head.
“It is good to see you have returned, Max.”
His ears weren’t hearing the words.
They only existed inside his head, and nowhere else, he was sure of it.
Max staggered backward. “What—”
He shook his head and though maybe he was losing his mind.
For one, he’d never heard a voice inside his head before, except maybe his own, or memories. But those were echoes of a memory. This was an actual voice.
Not to mention he’d never heard the voice before. It was male, though a little high-pitched.
“This makes it so much easier, don’t you think?”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Max tried to focus on not doing what he immediately thought of doing, which was to turn around and run back out of this ship.
“Who’s in my head?” he shouted, though he didn’t know if he was talking to Zryk or the disembodied voice.
“No, no. Not the head. I have tapped into your implant, Max. It is only me.”
Max blinked and looked across the chamber. Zryk stepped toward him with both arms raised now in what looked like an attempt to be reassuring.
The voice was very different from the robotic one Zryk’s translator spoke in… but it still had an unusual cadence to it, like someone who had only recently learned the language.
“You got into my implant?” Max asked, astounded.
Zryk bobbed his head and waited.
It made sense, seeing as every human alive these days survived only with the Qirinian technology connecting them via every implant inserted under every person’s ear. That took a few seconds to sink in.
“Come, Max,” Zryk said and waved him forward. “I have performed a successful replication. Come look.”
With a deep breath, Max went to join the alien in the center of the chamber. He had no idea what this ‘replication’ was, but when he reached Zryk, it made perfect sense.
Part of the computer’s surface looked like it had reassembled itself into a Qirinian-style tray. On it were at least five times the amount of fruits and vegetables Max had taken from the Neo Angeles garden.
“The nourishment you allowed me to study,” Zryk said, spreading a huge hand over the tray. “These are genetically identical in every way. I do not have the same receptors for taste as a human. Will you test them to be sure I have performed this accurately?”
Max never needed to be told twice to eat anything. He grabbed one of the apple and bit in. It was just as deliciously sweet as those he’d eaten in the garden, as were all the other fruits. Before he knew it, he’d eaten almost a quarter of them.
Zryk waited patiently while Max filled his belly. Despite having been healed before the end of the raid, he hadn’t eaten anything since he’d snuck into the city the day before.
Wiping the juice from his lips and chin, he looked up at the Bug and chuckled. “Definitely a successful replication.”
Zryk hissed softly in Qirinian laughter, which he could hear with his ears. Then the voice spoke, which he knew was only inside his head.
“This is good. Thank you for your opinion.”
Then Max realized how incredibly quickly the Bug had managed to recreate so many fruits and vegetables in less than twenty-four hours.
“Hey, could you replicate even more of these? Like enough to feed a few hundred people?”
“Your people?”
That was exactly what Max was thinking. The Peacewinds would never find themselves in the clutches of desperate starvation again if he could bring them the replicated food Zryk apparently had no problem creating.
“Yeah. That would solve so many of our problems.”
“Perhaps. But we have more pressing matters to discuss first, Max. Do we not?”
Max shrugged, gazing at the fruit, then nodded. “I guess we do.”
“Before anything else, it is important that you receive all the necessary information about your evolved abilities.” Zryk turned away from him, but his head moved slightly in Max’s direction, as if he were eyeing him sideways, though it was impossible to te
ll where those black eyes focused. “I connected to your implant just before you reached your home.”
Max stared up at the Bug. “You mean yesterday?!”
“It is quite easy, if one understands the process. Your implant provides insight into the synapses of your ocular nerves. I watched you fight those attacking your home. It was impressive, Max, especially given your refusal to receive the necessary training before. You endangered yourself with such a rudimentary grasp of your abilities.”
It took Max a moment to realize Zryk was basically calling him a lucky idiot for taking off to barely save his people in time.
He took a step back and tilted his head at the Bug. “Uh, thanks.”
“Now that your urgency has lessened, we must begin with a much more comprehensive breakdown of your evolved abilities and what your implant will show you of your own capabilities. Knowledge always comes first, Max. Then action.”
How weird was this? Now the alien was starting to sound like Max’s dad.
“Okay. So let’s get started.”
He definitely had a few questions about what all this meant, specifically about what he’d experienced with the Levels and the flashing lights when he’d fought the raiders. But he’d give the Bug a chance to lay it all out there.
“As I am sure you are aware by now, your implant interprets each new ability you gain and presents it as information in your… augmented reality. I believe this is the term.”
Zryk meant his life stats. Max nodded.
“Your natural ability to evolve, which is one of the defining characteristics of all life on this planet, ensures that each of these powers you possess will continue to evolve with you as you gain experience in utilizing them. So far, I believe you have experienced what each of your current abilities can do.”
“Yeah,” Max said. “Just a little.”
“Each Level expressed by your implant denotes a firmer mastery over those abilities and will occasionally present you with new ones. I have examined the data and found your implant displays a Level 3 status.”
“Right.” Max scratched the back of his neck, trying not to think about the flashing glare of white light, the brief but unbearably intense pain, and his inability to move for a fraction of a second both times he reached those new Levels. “I still have no idea what that’s about. How I reach a new Level, if that’s what we’re calling it.”
“This is also simple,” Zryk replied, as if they were just talking about how to put on a shirt. “After your transformation in the energy chamber yesterday, you required two hundred Soul Points in order to advance to what your implant presented at Level 2.”
“Sure,” Max said. “You said something about Soul Points yesterday, but my stats aren’t showing anything like that.”
Zryk stared at him for a moment, then turned and focused his attention on the computer. His fingers moved through the light beams for a few seconds, and then he stepped away.
“There is no exact word in your language for this life energy, so to speak. What I called Soul Points. I have offered your implant a translation for this now. Do you see it?”
Max studied the blue stats in his vision.
Electrical Current
Intensity: 300 volts
Base Range: 2 feet
Accuracy: 50%
SOUL POINTS: 50
So that was what the odd symbols meant.
“Yeah, I see it now,” Max said.
“Good. Level 3 required four hundred Soul Points, which you attained as well. To advance to Level 4, the required number is eight hundred.”
“Okay. Can we back up just a minute?”
Zryk turned to face him fully.
“I still don’t understand what these Soul Points are.”
“They are fragments of animating energy contained within all living things.”
That didn’t really clear things up.
…or did it?
“Were those the little grey lights I saw when somebody died?”
“Yes.”
“Are they real, or am I just imagining them?”
“They are real, but you can only see them because your implant is attuned to them.”
“And each one gives me Soul Points?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, right now they’re at fifty. How do I get to eight hundred and Level 4?”
The Bug tipped his head side to side and clicked a few times. “An additional fifteen human deaths.”
“Wait, what?!” Max stepped quickly backward, feeling sick. “I have to kill people just to get better at this?!”
“That is what this life energy does, Max. In addition to the improved experience numbers and mastery of your abilities, it powers the evolutionary increase of your powers from Level to Level.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Your insistence on leaving quickly did not allow me the time to accurately inform you.”
Those glowing, muted orbs of light lifting from every Scavenger Max had dropped during the raid—those were the Soul Points. He knew he’d been absorbing some kind of energy, whether he wanted to or not. He just had no idea what they were or why he couldn’t reject them.
The realization now made him sick. If he’d known that going in, he would never have used his abilities to kill anyone. He’d been absorbing … well, yeah, the energy of their souls seemed like the best way to put it.
Then again, if he hadn’t killed the men who’d attacked him and the other Peacewinds, they would most likely all be dead themselves. Including Max.
He knew his success had been mostly blind luck, if he was being honest with himself. His aim was awful, and he’d had to constantly disintegrate and fire energy blasts with extremely low accuracy. If the attackers hadn’t all been taken by surprise, they might have killed him.
Max looked up at Zryk and grimaced. “Look, I know my people wouldn’t have survived if I hadn’t used the energy chamber. If I couldn’t do… everything I did yesterday. But I don’t want any of this power if the only way to get better at it is by murdering people.”
Zryk clicked softly and stepped toward him.
“You were acting in self-defense, Max,” he said. The high-pitched voice in Max’s head sounded surprisingly empathetic. “You cannot fault yourself for that.”
“I know,” Max muttered. “But if I go out looking for people to attack me, just so I can kill them… that’s not self-defense. That’s murder.”
“I agree,” Zryk replied slowly. “That would not qualify as the same thing. However, humans are not the only lifeforms on Earth that provide Soul Points when they die.”
Max frowned up at the Bug. “What else is there?”
“The… mutated humanoids living in the wreckages throughout the desert.”
“The Sandwalkers?”
Max was pretty sure those things didn’t have anything remotely close to a soul. They were too far gone.
“One moment.” Zryk turned back to the computer, entered a few commands, and a soft blue light illuminated on a surface panel of the console. The light stretched out into a holographic display of what was definitely the shuffling, bulging-eyed, inhuman things. “These are what you call Sandwalkers?”
“Yeah.”
“Then Sandwalkers also provide Soul Points. I have found the numbers range between five and twenty each. It would not be self-defense either, but do you have any compunctions over killing these?”
Remembering how close the drooling, mindless mutant had gotten to biting his face off before he fell through the engine chamber of the Earth starship, Max shuddered.
“Definitely not.”
“Then we are in agreement. You shall use your powers on Sandwalkers to practice. I trust you are aware that the Accuracy portrayed by your implant is particularly low.”
Max frowned. “Yeah, that was pretty frustrating.”
“The Sandwalkers may provide an opportunity for you to increase that Accuracy. As with any skill, evolutionarily enhanced or othe
rwise, improvement comes with repetition. The more you practice, the more accurate your attacks will become.
“The range of your powers—in other words, how far you can shoot—will increase with every level you attain. Your current Base Range for Energy Blast is 40 feet, and your Accuracy is 25%. Are you aware of what a Base Range is and how it affects Accuracy?”
“No,” Max admitted.
“At the Base Range of 40 feet, you will hit 25% of all your shots. So for any use of Energy Blast below 40 feet, you are assured a higher success rate.”
Max frowned and thought back to the previous day. “But I was missing shot after shot!”
“Because your initial Base Range was 20 feet and your Accuracy was only 20%, meaning you would only hit one out of every five targets at exactly 20 feet. Only if the targets were within ten feet would you have an above-average chance of hitting them. Anything within five feet would have been point-blank range, with 100% Accuracy.”
Max could have slapped his forehead, it was so obvious. “Ohhhh… that’s what you meant about learning important stuff if I’d stuck around to listen to you…”
“Yes, it would have been helpful,” the Bug said gently, then continued. “That is why practicing Accuracy is so important. If you raise your Accuracy to 50% at 40 feet, you will hit half of your targets at that Base Range. In effect, you will increase your overall range, and insure that you have a 100% chance of hitting any targets within 10 to 20 feet.
“However, I must warn you of something. Your Accuracy percentages will decrease slightly with every new Level you attain. It makes sense—as your abilities become much more powerful, it will be harder to control them, so your Accuracy will necessarily suffer a bit. So you will have to continue to practice in order to increase your Accuracy and make up any losses incurred in moving from Level to Level.”