by Tao Wong
“Har…”
Recollection of four years of my life—fighting, struggling, and surviving in a Forbidden World—comes rushing back. My Master Class Quest, forced upon me by the Erethrans, had a nasty, nasty pre-condition. One that I would never have tried to meet if I had been given a real choice.
You see, on Forbidden Worlds, most monsters gained resistances to almost all forms of attacks, making even low-level creatures a pain to kill. Along with the lower level creatures are massive, bloated monstrosities that rampage through the world, soaking in Mana at ever-expanding amounts. They keep doing so, growing and eating till they can no longer move and become prey for smaller, lighter creatures. Before they too grew, completing the insane circle of life.
“The question has always been, what’s the System, right?” I raise a hand, making it flood with Mana and calling forth a simple flame. I let it burn me, face barely twitching as I watch damage counters float up from the hand as Ali reminds me how dumb I’m being. But even as fast as the damage accumulates, my body heals it. “It functions everywhere there is enough Mana—but breaks down when there’s too much of it. It doesn’t break down in a straight line either—certain functions give way at the edges of Forbidden Zones while others—like Skills—function even to the farthest depths. Safe Zones, zone levels, Forts, and Settlements. They are all artificial constructions of the System itself and none last in a Forbidden Zone.”
“Zone levels aren’t all gone,” Ali rebuts. “I recall us hiding in lower Level areas. A lot.”
“Yeah, but that’s from the lay of the Mana lines, which the System uses in construction of the zones.” I bring up an image of a familiar blue ball. “See Mana lines on Earth, showing how the zones are mostly built along their flow? Except when they aren’t. Like these national parks. Or when a settlement ends up on a Mana line and they enforce the low Mana zone around the city, siphoning environmental Mana into the city while pushing it away at the same time.”
“Fine. The System makes zones and cities. So what?” Ali says.
“Well, the question is if the System is making a choice when it does that. Is the System breaking down non-core functions that don’t involve individuals first by choice? Or is it a design issue? We know it’s a given fact that that breakdown happens all the time, so it’s one of the few ‘facts’ we have about the way the System works.”
“Well, of course it’s a fact. The research is all there. No one’s going to deny the facts staring you in the face.”
“Remind me to tell you about flat-earthers some time.” I push aside the thought, focusing on the point I’m trying to make. “So knowing that the System attempts to preserve individual abilities and Classes the longest, the question is what’s next? Well, some Questors decided to see what happens when you remove Classes in a Forbidden Zone, if new research results may be found. Perhaps a new Class, perhaps an interaction with the System that is not visible otherwise. All this”—I wave my hand around, encompassing the screens—“is done for research.”
“Twisted and broken research.” Ali stares at one particular image of a youngster in a cage, sitting sullen and defeated. By this point of the recording, all the crying, begging, and pleading has been done. He’s resigned to his fate, his death.
“Yeah.”
There’s an ethical question there, one that I’m not entirely sure I want to touch. I’m not torturing the kid. In fact, that actual research was completed over a century ago. Much like how a lot of medicine in the twentieth century had grown from research conducted by the Japanese and Germans, the research I’m studying now comes from entirely unethical actions. People—sentient creatures—and animals were tortured, put through tests without their consent. Frankly, I’d kill the people involved in this research. But here I am, soaking in the data. Using it to expand on my own System Quest, my own research. Trying to find an answer.
And all the while feeling dirty and unclean, but still watching. Still learning.
I’m not sure what that says about me—but whatever it is, it’s not nice. That darkness, that need to know, is probably part of the reason why Lana stopped waiting. There are places I’ll go, things that I’m willing to do, to get this answer. Rightly or wrongly, I need to know.
“Either way, what they’ve learnt is that the System isn’t just an external thing—once it changes you, it changes you. The Classes, the Skills, they’re not external add-ons. The overlay we see, the notifications, those can disappear. But like our experience, our Levels, the Skills still stick around,” I say, letting the flame disappear. “Our control of Mana in our body just becomes more intuitive.
“It’s also why some of these researchers believe that experience is actually the System’s way of categorizing our understanding of Mana. Why, when we’re in a combat situation, it’s the people facing the greatest danger who get the most experience. Because they’re learning the most, they’re the most able to grasp how to manipulate Mana better. The very act of using Mana, expanding it, makes them better Mana filters.”
“Except you didn’t get any experience at all in the Forbidden World,” Ali counters. “You only Leveled once you left the Forbidden World. Since then, your stored experience has been part of the reason for your explosive growth. If they were right, you’d have jumped in power in the Forbidden Zone itself.”
“I did get more powerful though.” I conjure my sword, turning it sideways, showing Ali the plain steel—well, I call it steel, even though it’s unlike any metal I know of these days—edge. “Even my sword improved while we were in the Zone.”
“But not to the extent you should have.”
I shrug, gesturing at the screens. “It’s not as though what we’re discussing is a complete theory. There are gaps, but it’s clear that experience is, to some extent, based off ‘real’ world changes. Our Levels alter based off what we learn, as do our Class Skills. If anything, the System might be both a crutch and an aid—we’re forced down a specific road while we gain Levels, but at the same time, when you achieve a new Class tier, you get the download and the changes that make it possible to use a new Class.”
“That’s why you read up about new Classes forming?” Ali gestures to a set of still screens. “Based off the data the Manifesters were looking at?”
“Exactly.” I frown. “Remind me to let Lana and the others know of them, will you? It’s amazing that an entire group of Questors have managed to hide their presence across Earth.”
“Not going to make any friends that way,” Ali warns.
“Meh.” I shrug. Not as if I care what a group of Galactic busybodies think. But the knowledge that even an intermediate Questor has at his fingertips about the System will be important for Earth. “If they want to keep watch, they’ll agree to it.”
Until a new world joins the System, Earth will be the hotbed for these Galactic busybodies. The Order of Benevolent Class Manifestation Watchers are all about exploring the System as it manifests a new Skill or Class. Classes are preferred, because with the right kind of Skill, you can watch as the System attempts to form or otherwise adjust to these new Classes. In fact, from what little I gather, there were literally thousands of these bastards hanging around Earth when we joined the System, hiding their presence as they watched the addition of a new world to the System. Not that they lifted a damn finger to help us. They’ve got a code—mostly due to a concern about imprinting us poor barbarians with their Classes and Skills.
But now that Earth is part of the System, the number of new Classes being created rather than drawn from the giant database of the System will decrease. Already the number of Manifesters on Earth has dropped considerably. It doesn’t mean they won’t continue to keep an eye on us, but as we Level, hiding will get more difficult. I’m sure many of these Manifesters are hiding in plain sight, but their need to watch, to understand means that a closer and more intimate relationship is optimal. Which is where Lana and Rob might have their leverage.
“I’ll just add them to the
list of people who want to kill us then,” Ali says. I snort, but the little Spirit continues, waving his hand to make the Class notifications disappear. “Sounds like you’re leaning toward the Systemers’ belief that the System is beneficent and Classes are a symptom.”
“Nice word choice. Not at all prejudiced, are we?” I smirk. I’ve yet to get Ali’s backstory in any detail, just that he’s somehow beholden to the System. But the way he speaks of it and those he’s served, it’s clear, at least to me, that he’s pretty bitter. “Maybe it is, but if it’s beneficial, the System isn’t very good at that.”
“The Umil Branch of the Systemers would agree,” the librarian answers, making me jump.
I’ve got a sword pointed at him before I realize that he’s not a threat to anything but my pants and dignity. “Don’t do that.”
“You were informed of my arrival,” the librarian intoned.
“I was not—you son of a bitch.” I glare at Ali, who’s clutching his side as he snickers. “What if I Blade Striked him!”
“Then I would have banned you from the library. After giving you a proper chastisement.”
I glare at the still-snickering Ali and the librarian before throwing up my hands. “Whatever. Why are you here?”
“There is a rather noisy Dragon Lord asking for your presence. If you wish, I can send him on his way.”
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
I grunt, shaking my head, and look back at the video recordings. There’s so much more to learn… as the multiple System Quest updates have shown me. There’s still a day left till the auction happens, so I can cram a little more. And a Cleanse spell will fix any odorous issues.
As I turn back toward the screens, the librarian adds one last sentence. “If I were to guess, it probably has to do with the invasion fleet.”
My neck snaps around so fast, I’d give myself whiplash if not for my high Constitution.
Chapter 13
The solar system floats in the war room in the fourth ring, a holographic projection of the area around the station and the nearest planets. I watch the loosely connected station platforms, the floating spherical rings, and the larger station pieces spin in slow-moving orbit around the giant mass of the core station. All of the pieces are broken up by lightly glimmering force shields. The flares of engine thrusters are like fireflies in the night, reminding me of the numerous ships that make Spaks their station of choice, coming in for repairs and refueling. Scattered throughout the model system are specks, some larger than others, of the asteroids that surround the station.
The peaceful serenity of the image is broken by the appearance of two dozen spaceships. They drop into space, some missing asteroids by centimeters on the projection. The moment they appear, they open fire, destroying and pulverizing multiple asteroids. Only a single ship misses it’s jump, exploding in a fireball as translating matter meets asteroid.
Even as automated alarms ring throughout the station and mines dart toward the invaders, another half dozen whale-like ships appear in the now-cleared zones. The ships drop into space with no warning, outside of the sphere of control of Spaks station’s dimensional locks. Each ship is situated at the cardinal points of the compass in 3D with the core station as the main focal point. Six Dimensional Smoothers, so that no matter how you rotated the view, there are two overlapping spheres of control at any time.
Each whale ship is as large as a second ring station—nearly one and a half times the kilometer-long station we’re situated in—and is painted in the most garish, eye-searing colors you can imagine. Bright pink, seafoam aqua, and luminescent green is the least offensive mixture. As for the battleships, they’re a hodgepodge mixture of styles and types, ranging from sleek, silverfish long vessels to a swirling mass of air and plasma, gaseous smoke given form around a hidden core.
The low rumble of station control conversations that played in the background has risen to a feverish pitch as station masters, pirate captains, and flight controllers panic at the invasion. Beside me, in the corners of the holographic playback, notification windows open, dozens of conversations transcribed and scrolling faster than the unaided human eye can read. And those are just the important ones, the traffic that the AI has highlighted for review. More of what is said is left unrecorded.
The third ring reacts first, the force shield that blocks movement between each ring snapping to full force. The fifth ring takes a fraction of a second more to react, then the rest of the rings are all on alert. The semi-transparent globes are fully opaque now, with a few ships en route crashing into the fully enforced barriers. Flares of venting oxygen and other combustible gasses appear and die away, forgotten tragedies as the interlopers take action.
Even through the projection, I can feel the hum and bone-shaking thrum as the six massive ships trigger their Dimensional Locks. The wave of blue that spreads from each of the ships is a computer-generated representation, but I feel the effects of the lock as I stand here. Each of the six gargantuan ships are Dimensional Smoothers. A single ship could lock down the station, but to stop us from escaping, they sent six of them.
As the ships lock us down, the battleships are firing on the mines and blocking attacks from hidden beam turrets. There’s a short and intense battle between the automated defenses and the guardian ships, one that sees the destruction of all the automated defenses and two of the battleships. The remainder of the ships trail atmosphere, most having taken some damage. But for all their vaunted defenses, Spaks fails.
Once the situation stabilizes, the holographic projection freezes, leaving me to stare at the now-overlapping spheres of dimensional stability. No matter where the station boosts to, where it runs, at least two of the smoothers will be in play. Right now, all six spheres of influence overlap us, keeping the station and its residents unable to transition to a more secure location.
“Not much more to show after that,” Bolo says, striding out from the corner where he has been watching the entire proceedings. As he walks, the image turns back on, speeding up multiple times, and I watch the fireflies dart away, skipping through the gaps between the ships. None of the battleships leave their Dimensional Smoother to chase down the fleeing pirates, allowing those who were caught outside the chance to escape. “The cowards have run, leaving the rest of us here.”
“I’m assuming those ships are the ones placing the Dimensional Locks on us?” I say, frowning and turning my hand sideways to look at the QSM attached to my wrist. It flickers, showing on the screen that slipping sideways is a possibility still. Interesting. It must be long-range teleportation that they’re blocking, which is easier to block than short-term teleportation. “Which bands are they blocking?”
“All of them,” Bolo answers curtly.
“Burrowing?”
“Walls have been thickened.”
“Folding?”
“Stabilized.”
“Gates?” I say, reaching for half-forgotten studies.
“Disrupted.”
“Divine circles?”
“Stopped, blocked, or otherwise hampered.” When I open my mouth to continue, Bolo shakes his head. “Nothing works. Every single type of long-range teleportation form is blocked. Even the Shop’s teleportation options are severely limited. Someone’s willing to bid up the prices such that no one but the richest is getting out.”
“Damn.” Dimensional smoothing isn’t necessarily as easy as buying a single type of Skill and locking out an area. While yes, most Skills will block most forms of teleportation, with the myriad forms of Skills out there, some types are more efficient at blocking the shift of molecules than others. As an example, divine intervention can often transport people through most dimensional locks, since the vast majority of the time, it’s just a spirit being moving you really, really fast. It’s not actual teleportation like Blink Step but physical movement. “How’d they manage to get so many of those ships in play? Can’t be cheap.”
“They aren’t,” Harry confi
rms, looking up from behind me, where he’s manipulating multiple windows at a time, news feeds in each window while he reads news reports in another. “I’m doing a story on it now—mostly for the locals though. Seems like the major players have been given the inside scoop. But this is just the opening move of a much larger campaign. The name battered around is Operation Sketch Pad.”
Ah, yes. In the tradition of giving operations the most random names possible, we get Operation Sketch Pad. Though I guess wiping us off the face of the galaxy is a good artistic endeavor. Or something.
Fine. I’m stretching here, as I try to figure out what the hell to do about the fact that we’re trapped on a sinking ship. Or well…
“This isn’t the first time it’s been tried, right?” I say. I vaguely recall that conversation…
“Nope. Multiple navies and individuals have tried to destroy Spaks. This is, like, the twenty-third major rebel nexus since the start of the System,” Ali says. “Spaks herself has survived nine major attempts.”
“So. They can handle this?”
“If everyone pulls together, certainly,” Oi says as the doors slide open. I frown at the Captain as he gestures at the screen. “That’s why we asked Bolo to retrieve you. Now that you understand the situation, you should understand the wider one.” At his words, the images fade away to be replaced by a fleet of ships that take up the entire room. Even my enhanced brain can’t count them all at a glance, but it’s well above two hundred battleships, never mind the smaller cruisers. “This is the fleet that is on its way to us.”
I frown, tilting my head. “Why aren’t they here already?”
“Because they’re still gathering.”
