by Terina Adams
Holden paused in the entrance, allowing us all time to enter. Once everyone was inside, he said, “We’ll head upstairs.”
A lift door detached seamlessly from the wall in the corridor, shushing open to reveal a metallic-colored space like a large tin can. Our reflections warped off the surfaces, making us look like an army.
The lift doors open after a short few seconds to a vast room, centered with a long, imposing table surrounded by high-backed chairs. As with the front room downstairs, glass comprised the entirety of the face of the building overlooking the street.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes to strategize before we initiate our game plan.”
I glanced to my digital clock to see the countdown had not slowed in our favor.
“Do we have one?” The avatars blended into a mash of angular features and muscle, each man as warrior-like as the guy sitting next to him, each woman just as deadly. I recognized Reg and Malvo from our last game, but the rest were a bunch of fake faces. It would be so easy to pretend they were nothing more than bots. What had Jax said about the NPCs being marked?
Holden again fiddled with the sets of controls at his belt, the ones Jax had given him so he could coordinate Persal’s attack. A digital image appeared in the center of the table.
“The Veulta Plaza,” Holden said, leaning forward with his palms resting on the table.
The plaza reminded me of a wedge of cheese or a slice of cake, blade narrow at the street frontage, thickening as it receded back to the block behind. Tubular beams of metal formed the corners and a lattice of windows covered the face either side of the wedge.
“The senate will be located in Descaros, an exclusive restaurant located at the top level of the plaza. We can assume Aris will maintain a large contingency of warriors on the street and ground floor of the plaza, covering all entrances.”
“So how do we get in?” Another avatar face concealed the person underneath.
Holden narrowed in on the street, zooming the view of the digital image in close like a video camera until the people on the street became clear. Instead of exotically dressed warriors, the bots were dressed in black jumpsuits with heavy-duty boots and an assortment of gadgets hanging from the belt at their waist—the specialist tactical unit.
“Never seen them in a game before,” said someone else.
“Specialist tactical unit, nickname sweepers, highly skilled people.”
“Let me guess, personal bodyguards to the senate,” replied the same guy.
“They’re much more than that.”
“They’re swarming the place. How are we supposed to get past them?” a woman asked.
“We don’t. At least not from below.”
The image moved again, whizzing up the face of the Veulta until it hovered above, looking down on the plaza to reveal a row of large glass panels dissecting the roof. “We’re going in from above.”
The Veulta disappeared to be replaced by something resembling the skytrains, but smaller and sleeker with a few extra bits hanging off, looking like weaponry; I’m sure I didn’t want to know. “We hijack two STU utilities. Fly over the top and abseil down through these sun vents. The STU utilities are equipped with what we need to extract the senate from the air. Back home these utilities are used for a multitude of tasks, such as airlifting personnel out of dangerous situations. Once on board, I will give you all a harness. I, Sable, Reg, and”—Holden scanned the room—“you. What’s your name?” He pointed to a small brunette sitting two seats down from me.
“Marijane”
“The four of us will be responsible for the senate. All of us will get an extra silver disc. These are for the senate. It will disable them from the game while not removing them from it, enabling the four of us to extract them.
He directed his next comment to the three of us extracting the senate. “Before you jump, I will issue you a second harness. This must be placed on the senate member in order for us to pull them out. We’re taking them up the same way we go down. Sable, you take the Persal senator. I will take Aris. Reg, you can take Set, and Marijane, Negal. If one of us fails, the rest of you must take our place.”
“Two problems, who’s going to fly them, and who here knows how to abseil?” I said. Given no one in this room had seen the STU, I doubted any of them would know anything about their skycraft.
“Malvo, if you’re up for it, you and I will each pilot a utility. The real fight will take place within Descaros; therefore we take everyone with us once we secure our transport.”
“Slight snag,” Malvo said. “I have no idea how to fly one of those things.”
“You will,” Holden said. “We’ll separate into parties of four and approach from differing directions. There will be six in a party; the extra can come with me. Malvo, I want you, and Sable, stick with me. Reg, you too will be in my party.”
“I got no problem with that,” Reg said.
Holden pointed to the people sitting next to Reg, one guy and two girls. “You three will join my party. The rest of you form your parties now before we leave.”
“You haven’t answered my second question,” I said.
“It won’t take long to learn. You’ll have the equipment necessary when the time comes.”
With minimal talk, everyone decided who they would join and shuffled into their respective parties. Holden then went around each and allocated the direction they would approach the Veulta, any of the four compass points, moondine, sunder, zendua, and accetus.
“The rest of you will create a diversion allowing Malvo and me to access the skycraft. Once inside, we will be able to provide cover for everyone else to climb aboard. I want the diversional attacks to start in no less than half an hour. That should give all parties time to deal with any difficulties en route and to be in place at the right time.” Sweeping everyone into his gaze, he said, “Does anyone have questions?”
When no one replied, Holden’s attention turned to me. “Sable, you need another weapon.”
“Is that because I suck with my tri-blade?”
“Level seven you get a maximum of three weapons. I figure another wouldn’t hurt. Three may be pushing it.”
The weaponry screen appeared in front of me. Rather than a selection of all the categories of weapons available, the daggers hung in the air before me.
“A dagger would be best, I think. Small and light, it won’t get in your way. Anything else is too difficult to wield.”
“Fine. I’ll have the one with the jade-looking handle and the curved blade.” For no other reason than it looked nice.
All the other blades faded, leaving my choice hovering in front of me. I plucked it out of the air, understanding the rules of Dominus enough to know what I saw was what I felt. The blade fit into the leather pouch strapped to my belt, which appeared the moment I touched its hilt. Weapons on my left hip, tags on my right, I was ready to fight—at least in theory.
“Malvo, if you’re ready, I’ll load you up with the information necessary to pilot one of those craft.”
“Hey, what? You can do that?”
But Holden was focused on his controls and didn’t bother looking up or answering. I glanced between Holden and Malvo, catching the sudden rigidity in Malvo’s avatar. His arms straightened by his sides, his head jerked. Being an avatar, his face hid any secrets to what he saw or felt.
“Wow, this is freaky stuff. Amazing,” he said.
His body relaxed, head bowed, followed by a deep inhale. “All right. That was awesome.”
“Last time for questions.” Holden scanned the length of the table. “Good. Let’s begin.”
I wasn’t ready to leave Persal HQ. The place felt like a sanctuary. No one could attack us here, but hanging around meant Aris would win. And I didn’t want to leave the game shy of my kill quota and suffer whatever consequence Jax did not make clear.
The digital clock informed me we’d killed twenty minutes since entering the game, which left us with one hour, forty minutes to win. Let�
�s hope Aris failed to put up a good fight. Call me pessimistic, but I doubted that would be the case.
Before exiting onto the street, Holden turned back to his party. “Large parties trigger the computer to attack, even if we are from the same faction, so we move in lots of three through the streets, but keep your parties together. The two of you who are Phonus, you best stick together behind your party. We want to minimize the amount we have to engage before we reach the plaza. It’s level seven, so expect the worst. It’s likely coming for you.” With that soothing comment, Holden left HQ.
Behind, the parties moved in different directions, breaking down to smaller groups of three and disappearing down side streets or heading back down the road.
“One hour, thirty-five minutes, guys. We’re losing ground with each second we stand here.”
A yellow line ran down the center of the paving. I looked down to see it end at my feet. “What is this?”
Holden took off at a jog, forcing me to quicken my stride to stay alongside him. “I took the liberty of adding it in so we all knew where we were going. Since I’m the only one who knows the exact location of the Veulta, I added a guide for the rest of you. That means the other parties won’t waste time finding their way.”
“What did you do to Malvo back there?”
“Loaded him with a flight manual for the skycraft.”
“If you can do that so easily, why not load me up with every martial art skill there is?”
“Remember the reason for Dominus. You learn nothing if you fail to truly inhabit the skill.”
“Neither you or Malvo knew how to fly until now.”
“Both Jax and Tyren are skilled pilots. Carter has every contingency covered for when the time comes.”
“Let’s hope it never comes, right?”
Holden glanced down at me as he jogged along. “It won’t.” His avatar face was not enough for me to see the conviction on his face.
As we continued jogging, my eyes wouldn’t stop wandering to the digital clock, noting each minute passing, which did nothing for the adrenaline boiling acid up my throat. Beside me, both Holden and Malvo cast sweeping glances around them as they ran. Of course, stay alert. Any of the bots appearing before us could turn nasty. And now I understood what Aris meant by marked. A digital reading appeared above each bot, naming their faction, but on us, the PCs, there was nothing.
With the first cry, I drew my tri-blade as I spun to see the four behind us pulling their own weapons and engaging the bots. Holden and Malvo jumped forward, wasting no time to eliminate the threat. Thirty kills needed, I couldn’t afford to waste this opportunity.
But I needn’t have worried, as a large male warrior with a spiked collar and wrist cuffs separated from a group of approaching bots, targeting me. Before he reached me, he ripped his spiked club through the air with an audible whoosh, rippling the disturbed wind toward me. It washed across my exposed skin, hot, like a blast from a furnace. His factional symbol danced above his head. I couldn’t remember whose factional symbol his was, but it had to do with fire.
I was about to glance at the digital list of factions and their symbols squeezed along the top of my vision when he attacked in earnest and I was forced to defend, dodging each swing of his club. My skills status bar remained low because I wasn’t engaging, just dancing around his club. But just as I was about to release my tri-blade, a sword sliced the air in front of my nose, millimeters from its mark. The club gone, he swung the sword again. I dodged to the side, then released a kick, aiming for his knee. His hand came out and swiped my leg aside, sending me to the paving. The jar ran through my hip, spine, and up into my head and ignited the tethers on my factional nature. With the heat in my head, it felt like the binds holding it in were burning. My power status bar rushed up to over halfway. But my skills status bar dipped as did my health status bar thanks to the pain in my hip.
I rolled away as the sword came down with a chink onto the paving. I rolled farther to counter the next swing of his sword when a roar sounding like a violent wind rose up around me. I shielded my eyes from the intense heat, as the blaze encircled the two of us. Now I no longer needed to look at the digital display to know Negal ruled pestilence and fire.
It’s only in your mind. I repeated the mantra as I climbed to my feet, but it didn’t lessen the heat of the fire. Confronting a factional nature made my own reply with a savage need to break free. Jax said I had to let it go. I had to become what I truly was in order to escape Dominus for good, but not here, not now. I’d not gained adequate control. The area of effect was such that I would kill my party.
I released my tri-blade, but with shocking speed, the warrior danced to the side, avoiding the blow. The tri-blade disappeared into the flames, leaving me with my dagger and factional nature; I was not about to include my fighting skills. The miss caused my skills status bar to drop, but my power status bar moved up to an early tinge of red. Fear and panic drove it forward. Mind control—Holden was right, Jax too. I felt scattered, my mind unable to stay on one logical plan, and I had yet to master moving instinctually as I fought.
The warrior roared, bunching his muscles up to his neck. Another sword appeared in the other hand, which he wielded through the air, slicing each in sync with the other as he advanced on me.
I glanced at my small blade. This against his two swords. Then my gaze moved to the backs of my hands. A black mark formed along the veins, spreading out like roots fast taking hold. It crept up my arm, snaking along a winding path, forking, then forking again until the dark mark looked like a spider web, all the while progressing ever forward up my arm.
Negal. Of course. Pestilence and fire, that’s what Negal controlled. This was nothing but a mind game. Not real. Not real. I scrunched my eyes closed, but when I looked again, the webbing had progressed to above my elbow. That’s when the burn started. My health status bar filled rapidly, moving through the colors, stopping at the start of red.
It’s not real. Not real. Dammit, I needed to concentrate. The hairs on my arms singed. The smell of them burning reached my nose. My skills status bar sunk, my immobility not doing me any favors.
A wind picked up, flaring the flames of the fire toward me. I shielded my face with an arm that felt like it was already on fire. My power status bar shifted into the red, deep red. My factional nature was there, right there, wanting out. If I didn’t release it, my mind would be cooked. If I did release it, I might also cook my mind.
I had to do it. Had to do it. Face it. Become it.
The restraint was unbearable, as I gritted my teeth, attempting to withhold the bulk of what was inside of me. A white light flashed across my vision. It felt like a tunnel was gouged through my head. And then it was gone. The fire, the burning, the black veining mark. The others were there. The fight won, the bots disappeared.
“We’ve lost time,” Holden barked as he jogged off down the street.
Ten minutes according to my digital display. Only ten minutes. It felt like hours. All my levels had stabled. I’d won. No casualties beyond the Negal warrior. My kill quota was down to twenty-nine.
We’d not made it far when our next attack came. I reached for my dagger only to find my tri-blade hooked in place on my belt. Defeating the warrior must have earned me my weapon again. This time I would not hang back, waste time in fear.
I released my tri-blade and caught a warrior through the side. A lethal blow if the spurting blood was anything to go by. She fell to her knees, releasing the tri-blade. It clattered to the paving the moment she disappeared. I dived for it, while swiping my dagger up and around, catching another warrior, engaged with one of my own party, in the side of the neck. God, I was getting good. I shouldn’t feel happy. Competency felt great. I couldn’t help but swell with pride. Until a boot met me in the middle and sent me backward onto my back. The wind oomphed out of my lungs as the pain radiated through my joints.
The warrior loomed over me. My blade and tri-blade were gone. My punishment for gett
ing so cocky. My factional nature lashed out, swiping my mind with a hard flick. I shouted my shock, anger, frustration and released it along the squint of my eyesight. The warrior detonated before my eyes.
Holden peered down at me, hand out to haul me up. “Stay on your feet,” he said as he turned and continued the mad dash for the plaza. With my jubilation resized from the boot to the stomach, I limped along behind everyone else. One quick look at my belt showed my tri-blade and dagger had returned. All status bars good. Number of kills four. No doubt everyone else already had thirty.
At the end of the street, Holden signaled our stop. With a hard sweep of his arm, we formed a group behind him as he edged his head around the building we sheltered behind. After a quick survey, he signaled both Malvo and me forward.
“This is what we’re after.”
Malvo and I edged our heads around as Holden dropped back to give us space. The entrance to the plaza swarmed with STU, an impossible entrance point. I saw only bots with their factions digitally displayed above their heads, which had to mean Jax kept all his team at the top, expecting the showdown to take place within the restaurant. Three STU skycraft waited on the street to the left of the plaza.
I pulled back and turned to Holden. “How did you know the skycraft would be here?”
“It’s protocol back home. These utilities are loaded weapons. Explaining all their capabilities will take us the next hour. And we only have one hour ten minutes left.”
I flicked a look to my digital counter. Damn, he was right. “Let’s hope within the hour we can fight our way to the skycraft without too many attacks slowing us, get to the top without being shot out of the sky, abseil down into Descaros without incident, something I have no idea how to do, fight our way through Jax’s party, all of which have to be in the restaurant, and haul the senate out. I might add none of us knows how to use this equipment you say will get the senate out.” I hated that I sounded pessimistic. We had to complete the task. We had no choice, so adding the sarcasm didn’t help.