Treachery (The Terra Trials Book 1)

by Dan Thomas

  A message appeared on the glass panel.

  Off-world items detected. Category: Meager, Various. Charge: 68 Coins

  Max grimaced. Just to bring scrap through the portal was going to cost him over half of his low funds. He hit the accept button, a small notification appearing at the top of his vision telling him he had been charged.

  The stone ring began to glow faintly. The inside of the portal began to shimmer like a heat haze until he couldn’t see through it anymore, then with a whoosh, the distorted image behind the portal was replaced with a clear view into the star-lit world of Gyromeda.

  He stepped through, and seamlessly the world changed around him as if simply stepping into another room.

  The courtyard looked mostly similar, except that the stone walls were replaced by sleek black metal, with billboard-sized screens advertising various tech companies in and out of the game. The archaic stone rings of the portals were instead standing circles of thick cords of wire and metal infused with veins of quartz.

  The Hub was busy on this world as well, and as the portal closed behind him, Max began to make his way out of the courtyard as hastily as possible.

  The walkway again was like that of the prehistoric world, but with electric vehicles ferrying goods and people past or over the stream of those on foot. The guards here had black composite armors with various lights on and held big guns in their hands. Several robots were patrolling up and down as well. The few dinosaurs that were being led around looked incredibly out of place.

  “I’m here,” Max said over comms as he exited the open corridor, and out into the Hub proper.

  The sun was just setting on the technology-filled world of Gyromeda. The skyline, filled with tall buildings, was outlined by the warm orange, while the glow from the burning neon signs bathed the stone slab sidewalks and roads in colors from hot pink to cool blue. Max could see the long thin spires, or rods, atop many of the buildings, placed there to protect the Hub from the electrical storms that frequently broke out, at least from Max’s memory.

  There was a plaza here where people milled about, with a wide road that led directly from the heart of the Hub to the walkway leading to the interworld portals.

  Feeling out of place himself, Max moved away from the crowds, not bothering to stop and wait for transport at the glass shelters like so many others. Max didn’t have time to queue, he knew what he needed and just had to find a Hub map to figure out where exactly to get it.

  These Hubs all had similar amenities. Taverns, diners, and entertainment were often on the northside of town, closest to the portals. Apparently, some players liked to travel from world to world to sample the different cuisines, which was totally alien to Max. These were game worlds, the food was not real. But food vendors designed their food to appeal to these players. Primeva had its very own T. rex steaks while on Gyromeda the cuisine was tailored more toward exotic and novelty cocktails and drinks that fueled the never-ending nightlife. Not that Holic had ever really partaken in it.

  A map. Max crossed the street, leaping forward as he narrowly missed being hit by a hovercar. He could not wait to get back to Primeva. He liked the slower pace and the fact you were less likely to get killed by a moving object. He’d take his chances against the snapping jaws of a raptor any day.

  Pausing in front of the map, his forehead creased as he tried to read the damn thing. As he tilted his head to one side, another player came up beside him and tapped the screen. The screen immediately lit up and the player scrolled through a list before tapping one of the names.

  “Vertex? What even is that?” Max asked, not meaning for the words to actually leave his mouth.

  “The Vertex? It’s one of the best bars on Gyromeda. Don’t tell me you haven’t been there?” the white-haired guy asked.

  “No.” Max shook his head as the screen showed up the exact location of the establishment.

  “They serve the best Starlight Mixer. You should try it.” The guy walked off and Max immediately swiped the screen and ran his finger down the list of businesses in the Hub. Tech Traders. That’s the place he needed to get to. It was a couple of streets over on the west side of town. It would take him a few minutes to get there if he didn’t get mowed down by a hovercar first.

  Keeping to the edge of the street, he strode as fast as he could toward Tech Traders, moving around groups of people, avoiding the various robots and mechs patrolling the town. He eyed up those that functioned like walking vending machines, debating on spending some coin on food for his slowly starving character, but decided against it. There’d be time to eat later, and his money was more valuable than that.

  Max made sure to keep a tight hold on the sail that still held the stuff he’d gotten from Indigo’s. He hoped to sell some of it so he could trade for the components Jag had requested.

  The sounds and smells of the Hub reminded him of a dirt track he’d visited as a kid with his dad. All oil and crunching gears over the top of electrical buzzing, offset by the various parties that seemed to be going on. A strange mix of sci-fi and low-fi. Give him the clear clean air of Primeva any day.

  “Hey! Watch it!” A large taxicab, its cog-like wheels firmly on the ground, rolled past him and nearly ran him over him as it cut across the sidewalk and down into a side street.

  “Man, you gotta work on those reflexes,” Chopsticks said.

  Max couldn’t think of a witty retort, and so ignored the comment as he moved on, wary of the constant crowd of people that moved around, filing in and out of the different buildings, some laughing and drinking, others looking a little more sinister in dark spiked clothes.

  The world of Gyromeda was darker, grittier than he was used to. But he needed to get this done, and so he plowed on, keeping his head down in an attempt to avoid eye contact. He was easy pickings for anyone who wanted an easy kill for a few coins’ worth of crap.

  Yep, no matter what world he was in, Murf was a noob. And noobs attracted trouble.

  Max skipped across the street, and jogged down a quiet side alley, keeping his senses alert for an ambush.

  “Relax,” Sam said quietly in his earpiece. “Nothing says fresh meat like a player with his head down. Come on, we’ve all seen them. Calm down, head up.”

  Sam was right. He might as well be wearing a name tag that said kill me. Then kill me again.

  Max slowed his pace, keeping his head on a swivel for danger while forcing himself to look at ease. Shoulders back, eye on the target. The trader was only two streets away.

  An alarm sounded off in the distance and the voices of the other visitors to Cerribue-Tech rose in excitement. Max looked up as a big cruiser flew overhead. It took all his nerve not to duck as it skimmed the tops of the buildings, nearly taking out one of the rods.

  “What was that?” Chopsticks asked.

  “It’s been a while since we’ve been here. I guess the world evolved a little since then.” Max took advantage of the distraction and jogged along the street. He stopped, checked that no vehicles were coming, either with wheels on the ground or hovering above it, then jogged the last fifty feet to the traders, the sail bouncing uncomfortably on his back.

  He had no trouble finding the right place. There was a green neon sign hung above the door flashing the words alternately in a steady rhythm.

  Tech.

  Traders.

  As Max approached, he put his hands out to open the door, but it slid open on its own with a slight hiss. Max ended up stumbling forward a couple of steps.

  Heads turned as he fell into the quiet room. He stuck out already.

  Although basic, his rough plant cord clothes would be fit for casual wear in dino-land, but here among the black leather, latex, and powered body armor, he looked like a caveman.

  “All you need is a club slung over your shoulder and to walk on your knuckles.” Chopsticks laughed, clearly thinking the same thing.

  “Funny. Real funny. You know if I don’t sell this stuff and get out of here alive, this plan of
ours is as dead as your dreams of taming a dodo. Everyone in here, player or not, is going to be wondering what a complete novice from another world is doing in a tech shop with a suspicious bag over his shoulder.” Max glanced around the store, looking for any immediate threat, but most of the people in the store were Tech Nuts, more interested in obsessing over the latest gizmo than a stranger, and quickly turned their attention away.

  Max coughed from the dusty air as he made his way to the counter, where he joined a disorderly line of people perusing the more valuable stuff which Tech Traders kept inside a glass counter. They were drooling over the tech in the same way Chopsticks drooled over a rare dinosaur egg. Max eyed them dubiously, actually, they might have even been just a bit more obsessive. He remembered reading that some groups of the more deranged Nuts went through a period of causing a lot of trouble in Gyromeda.

  “Can I help?” A middle-aged man, dressed in coveralls with the name, Tech Traders, sewn over the left pocket, fixed Max with a bored stare.

  “Yes. Thanks.” Max shuffled along the long counter until he stood in front of the guy. He grabbed hold of the sail in two hands and set it down on a small space on the counter in between the bits of electrical paraphernalia scattered over the rest of the smooth surface. “I need a couple of things.”

  “You need to be specific.” The guy blinked slowly as he talked.

  “I need a couple of component kits.” Max untied the sail but held the corners up to keep the contents hidden from the others in the store. “I have some stuff to trade.”

  “Again, you need to be more specific. Component kits are not cheap.” The guy’s eyes skimmed the faces of the other people in the store. “What do you have in there that we might want?”

  Max wasn’t exactly sure. So, he shoved the sail toward the guy, hoping the guy wasn’t going to take advantage of his inexperience. The guy frowned and began to pick through the stuff Max had taken from Indigo’s.

  “Okay, some of this stuff is junk. Some of it has value. But only for spares.” The guy glanced up at Max with a new interest. “But before we trade, I want to know where you got the electronics from. I don’t trade in anything that is stolen or was brought here under concealment. It’s Tech Trader’s priority to ensure the authenticity of all parts, tools, items, or components that pass through the store, it’s our responsibility to ensure...”

  The guy droned on as if he were reading off a card. It was like listening to the terms and conditions before you signed your life away on a loan. Max’s eyes began to glaze over, and he stopped listening, taking the time to look at the other people in the store.

  “I’m actually impressed,” Chopsticks said in Max’s ear. “I couldn’t even remember the two lines I was given for that school play, how is this dude not missing a breath? I’m actually dying here.”

  “Tell me about it,” Max replied, his eyes resting on a young woman with red hair, matching her crimson dress and leather coat, who had just walked in through the door. The other patrons inside parted as she headed toward the back of the store, disappearing through another doorway leading farther into the building.

  “Who is that?” Chopsticks asked, but Max’s attention was dragged back to the Tech Trader who had finally finished telling Max this stuff had better not be stolen.

  “So, is this all your own property?” the clerk asked.

  “Yeah.” Max figured things would go a whole lot faster if the workers at Tech Trader used that as their opening line. “All mine, all paid for. None of it smuggled.”

  Which was true.

  The guy in overalls narrowed his eyes at him, then pulled out a device with a screen on it from his belt.

  Once Max had answered he was a good boy, the Tech Trader processed the transaction and before Max knew it, he had given up the scraps he didn’t want and was back outside on the street, his sail bag a little lighter. The case of component kits was held in one hand, the few items he kept still wrapped in the sail in the other.

  With a mental command, Max switched his earpiece to his Jabber line with Jaguwar. “Jag, you there?”

  “Coming in now,” Jag answered. “Meet me by the landing pads. To the south of the portals.”

  “Gotcha.” Keeping his body language relaxed, he forced himself to look confident despite sticking out like a campfire in a dark wood. It was totally normal to cross worlds early in the game, right? Try one out, not get on and hop ship.

  Max made his way down the streets once again, trying not to walk too fast. He didn’t want anyone thinking he had anything valuable on him.

  He hoped to meet up with Jag before someone decided to take a swing at him. Or shoot him with a laser. Or run him down with a hoverboard.

  Who would have guessed a futuristic world was as deadly as a planet filled with dinosaurs with big teeth?

  Chapter Ten

  “Jag!” Max ignored Chopsticks laughing in his earpiece about greeting a long-lost lover or some such stuff.

  “Holic?” Jag asked from the back of a large hoverbike as Max walked up the metal grate steps and onto the raised platform of the landing pad.

  “The one and only. Except I’m Murf right now.” Max raised his arm and did a twirl. “What do you think? The account is finally coming in useful. Though I forgot how out of place I felt here.”

  Jag swung his leg over and jumped down from the bike, his long black coat swirled around him as he landed on heavy studded boots. As he stood up, Max got a full look at the dark leather gear. Max expected that he had armor hidden underneath the coat and leathers. Very cool. Very Jag.

  “You look rough.” Jaguwar leaned forward and sniffed. “You smell bad, too. I’d forgotten what it was like on those primitive worlds.”

  “What do you mean, forgotten? You only jumped worlds a couple of months ago.” Max approached the hoverbike that stood on the ground on four little legs, the glowing hover element underneath held off the platform. He ran his finger over the chrome and steel chassis. “You prefer this to Primeva?”

  “I do. Come on, let’s get out of here. You’re attracting attention.” Jag scanned the landing pads and Max swung around to see what attention he was attracting. His brow creased. This area was a little away from all the buildings, with plenty of large hexagonal platforms spaced away from each other. On the pad next to them was a glossy black vehicle. With its wide flat build and rounded front, Max would hazard a guess at it being a land cruising vehicle. A group of six people stood talking beside it, casting looks over at them.

  Jag was the one attracting attention, if Max wasn’t mistaken.

  “Are those Tech Nuts?” Max asked quietly, bringing his attention back to his friend.

  Jag cast a look over at the other group. “Looks like. Toss your stuff in the cargo and let’s ride.”

  As if on command, a small compartment opened on the back side of the bike, just behind the passenger seat. “Are you into something I don’t want to know about?” Max asked as he placed his sail sack and case in the storage, which then promptly slid closed.

  “It depends on how curious you’re feeling.” Jag took a couple of quick steps, placed a hand on the bike and vaulted onto it, landing on the driver’s seat, set behind a slanted windshield. “Hop on.”

  “So how do you ride this thing?” Max asked as he slung his leg over the seat behind Jag. The firm padding of the seat seemed to mold to his shape, and he felt almost stuck to the material.

  “The same as you ride any other decent bike,” Jag answered. “Fast.”

  Jag flipped a button, and the machine began to hum, the legs retracted off the platform, but the bike stayed stationary. Jaguwar then grabbed hold of a joystick and yanked it left. The bike slanted violently sideways, skating across the pad, only a few inches off the metal.

  Max yelped in surprise, scrambling to find a handhold to cling on to as they rushed toward the edge.

  “Christ, Jag!” Max felt his stomach churn as they slipped off the edge. As they accelerated toward the streets b
elow, Jag turned the bike around into a nosedive. The air roared past Max’s ears as they plummeted toward the ground.

  Jag then leaned back, grabbing the handlebars and pulling them upward, the bike tilting up in response. Their descent slowed a little, but they were still falling too fast.

  Just when Max’s faith in Jag’s driving began to fail, his friend slapped his hand down on a button, and with a shriek of hot air, they shot forward and upward into the sky. In seconds, they were once again higher than the buildings of the Hub, moving like a comet toward the outer walls.

  Clinging to a ridge in the bike, Max twisted to look over his shoulder. Past the burning red streak trailing behind the rear thrusters, he saw the black cruiser taking off in their direction, staying low over the buildings.

  “Those guys are on the move!” Max called out, his voice taken by the wind.

  “Thought as much,” Jag said, his tone lighter as he leveled the bike out.

  Max chanced a glance down. They had just cleared the Hub wall and were now hurtling over the wastelands outside of the city. Max couldn’t make out much in the dimming light, but it looked as though there was a lot of machine debris and not a whole lot else.

  He looked back up over Jag’s shoulder and could see lights on the ground in the distance.

  “That’s a player settlement, isn’t it? Is that where you live?” Max asked, squinting at the colorful pinpoints of lights.

  “Not quite. I live out in the wilds. But a city is a great place to lose yourself, and I wouldn’t risk upsetting the authorities at a Hub. They’re not partial to movie scene chases and upsetting the people spending money on drinks.”

  “Won’t the player city have turrets or something that are going to shoot us down?” Max asked, realizing that they must look like a missile headed straight for the city.

  Jag glanced over his shoulder at Max. “Sure they do, but I know people there, their defensive protocols will recognize the bike and won’t attack.”