Edge of Reality

by Andrei Livadny

  I nodded at Arbido and at Charon surrounded by the children. "That's my whole army."

  "I could pull in five more people," she spoke with a speck of hope. "Two are pilots. The other three are mercs. They're proven. They're good."

  "Not enough. There are about a hundred Dargians there."

  "We can call up a raid," she suggested.

  I shook my head. "We can't afford to leak the existence of the ship. You understand, don't you? Everybody is losing their grip. This kind of intel will get you killed by your own kind. Let's do it this way. You go and find five pilots and at least fifteen mercs. Leave the children here. Charon will look after them. We'll also need two craft: an assault module and a personnel carrier. I'll take care of that."

  I had to think fast. Lori cheered up a little. A new system message popped up in my view,

  Neurogram transmission resumed.

  Plot update alert! You've unblocked a unique plot line!

  You have the following alternatives:

  1. You can stay on board Argus. In case of your death, your safe logout is guaranteed.

  2. You can activate the alternative plot line. In that case, you will remain in game and your logout will remain frozen.

  Warning! Choosing option #2 will automatically qualify you as an Outlaw. The new pioneers arriving in the Darg system on board Eurasia will regard you as a criminal.

  My hand was still on fire. It looked like my mysterious artifact kept fighting against some attempt to block it.

  A multitude of thoughts flashed through my mind. This "alternative plot line" offer was evidently the consequence of the neurogram transmission failure. It hadn't taken the admins long to come up with a compromise. I was sure they were itching to study this new problem. Once again I'd become a valuable commodity to them. And still they were sure that without the functioning Logout button we didn't present a threat to their project. We'd either be dead or completely out of our minds before the New Colonial Fleet and Eurasia made it here. And even if we weren't, who would listen to a bunch of Outlaws?

  Charon was growling quietly. The kids weren't afraid of him one bit.

  In moments like these, decisions take split seconds. I don't need their "guaranteed logout".

  I was going to fight. For myself, for Liori, for the kids, for Charon and Arbido. I would know no mercy, fighting till the end whatever that may be.

  My eyes searched for the right button.

  Activate the alternative plot line.

  The heat in my hand subsided.

  * * *

  I had no time to think. We had to act fast. The station was falling apart at the seams slowly but surely.

  I took command. I hadn't told anyone about this "alternative plot line" yet.

  "Liori, you'll find us some pilots and mercs. Choose only those you can trust. Arbido," I turned to the goblin, "I want you to find out where we can find children's size gear. Quick, while the station network is still online. Charon, you stay here. Don't let anyone in in our absence."

  Charon nodded energetically. Gingerly he climbed to his feet and walked over to me, hope in his face. "Are we going to liberate my brothers?"

  "Absolutely," I said without a shadow of a doubt. I really liked the Haash. Besides, they were the only ones who knew how to fly the ancient ship.

  "We'll need some metabolites," he reminded me. "And food."

  That was something I hadn't even thought of. That put an extra strain to our route. We'd have to check the Market Deck and the exo section.

  "Got it. Ten sets of Dargian gear," Arbido had already scanned the shops' price lists. "The size is about right."

  That changed our priorities. "Liori, you think you could work from here? Via the network?"

  "Sure. I can use the mnemonic messaging."

  "Then you're staying with the kids. Schedule RV with mercs at Launch Bay 7. Don't let them in on any of the details. Just promise them a safe respawn point. Think that'll be enough to keep them interested?"

  "Quite. How about you?"

  "Charon and I are going to get some supplies. We need metabolites and also life support cartridges for our suits. I might also try to get us a personnel carrier and an assault module. I think I have an idea."

  She looked at me with respect. It was actually Charon who deserved praise. He'd been the one who'd suggested it. Imagine us leaving on a perilous journey through space without food or medication! We'd also need to stock up on batteries — and lots of other little things. A whole list of them, come to think of it.

  "Charon, I want you to inject all the metabolites you have left. You'll have to work as a mule, I'm afraid. I won't be able to carry much on my own."

  He obeyed without saying a word. The children stared at us with fearless interest. Unlike us, their young minds were still highly adaptable. Despite all the horrors of the last few hours, the only thing that upset them was that "uncle Charon" was leaving them on some business.

  I gave them an encouraging smile even though I wasn't sure of anything yet. We had too much to do, and the station was still falling apart.

  Liori's grateful gaze was full of unspoken anxiety. Once again she was a bundle of nerves, just like the first time we'd met.

  We had to be off, then.

  Charon and I walked out into the corridor, still sealed and breathable. Nevertheless, we clicked our helmets on, grabbed our guns and off we went on my preplanned route.

  As we advanced toward the Market Deck, I tried to contact Jurgen. He didn't answer; then all of a sudden he PM'd me.

  His combat chat was on.

  That set alarm bells ringing. "Problems?"

  They're here... to kill me... he couldn't control his ragged thoughts. Strange faces flashed amid his mnemonic images. His emotions were getting the better of him. Apparently, he knew his killers well.

  "Think you can hold the fort for five minutes?"

  If the airlock holds.

  "We're on our way."

  Another change of plan. I just hoped Jurgen could hang on until our arrival. He was a good guy. And now I really counted on his help. I couldn't even tell what was more important for us: his connections, his phenomenal willpower or that incredible spirit of his.

  We were about to storm the Dargian station and fight to the death with at least a hundred Dargians. I tried not to even think about the Guides. We had no idea what they were, so we had to exterminate them on sight. We really needed support from some heavy guns if we wanted to take them on. We needed at least one combat module fully equipped with drones.

  I hadn't even dreamt of getting Jurgen on my team but today it looked as if chance ruled the day.

  The Technologists clan's section was completely decompressed, its massive armored doors smashed by powerful blasts. That's humanity for you. The moment their habitual world order had started creaking at the seams, it had all resurfaced: looting, robbing and violence. Some were busy stuffing their pockets while others hurried to take it out on their fellow clansmen, doing things they would never have dared to do under any other circumstances.

  So basically, the station was in chaos. It was every man for himself.

  Charon and I ran along the endless corridor, disregarding the open doors of the looted warehouses, labs and test hangars.

  The placemark pinpointing Jurgen's room was growing near. The Technologists' living quarters lay after the next tunnel intersection. I could see bursts of flashes: there, a battle was in full swing.

  I held Charon back, motioning him to freeze.

  The combination of the mind expander and the Founders' AI neuronet allowed me to connect to certain subsystems directly. I'd only discovered this ability of mine the day before, at the moment of the highest mental strain when I'd finally docked the ship and tried to assess the scale of damage done to the station by the Phantom Raiders' attack.

  I had ended up with a headache from hell. But now the information was worth it. I connected my mind to the surveillance cameras that the Technologists had stuck o
n every corner.

  The living tunnels were wide: the Technologists had completely overhauled this area of ancient communications. Every fifty feet the corridor widened into small neat landings with flower beds and doors leading to the clan members' personal modules. Now, of course, the plants were all dead. In fact, apart from the artificial gravity, all other life support systems in the sector were down.

  Two electric cars blocked the tunnel next to Jurgen's room. Four mercs took cover behind this improvised barricade — ordinary soldiers, judging by their gear. Levels 15 to 20. I counted nine more standing by the room's outer hatch: one was cutting through the locks with a plasma torch while the rest stood with guns at the ready, casting wary glances around.

  One of them wore some unusual gear, similar to what I'd seen on the Dargians. Its black cargonite surface too surged with flashes of energy, pointing at an activated personal power field.

  I studied his marker. It's not that easy without direct visual contact. You had to really concentrate to see it through the camera. My strength was dwindling quickly. I was still new to this sort of mental exercise. The feeling was unpleasant — it felt as if your very nerves were burning out.

  Jyrd. Level 50. Outlaw Elite.

  He was bad news, I could feel it.

  Yesterday I'd noticed a large group of enemy ships try to circumvent the station. I probably shouldn't have blamed it on regular players.

  The Outlaws must have landed in the deserted sectors and used the commotion to penetrate unnoticed onto the inhabited decks. I wouldn't be surprised if they had instigated all the looting and rioting.

  I really didn't like it. The power balance was definitely not in our favor. Still, we had to help Jurgen out.

  Our position wasn't good, either. Unlike the enemy taking cover behind their cars, we were exposed. If we ran to attack them, they'd take us out in their own sweet time.

  My gaze followed the tunnel's ceiling. The decompression had ripped the casing off, exposing the ribbed framework underneath. I could see the deep service niches housing cables and pipes. Everything was as it should be. I glanced at the beams: they were thick enough to hold my weight. Without switching the communication system on, I signed to Charon, trying to explain what I was about to do. He nodded tensely.

  He seemed to have understood my plan. Now, the weapons. I changed the clip in my pulse gun and maxed out the rate of fire slider, setting it to boosted power. The sniper sights in my helmet were always on.

  I activated the movement coordinator and decided on my route and firing position between the reinforcement ribs.

  Go!

  I'd never had to run on top of the wall before. I guess I wasn't very good at it — but still fast enough. I very nearly tumbled down halfway through but my metabolic corrector brought my panic under control in no time. My ears hummed. I anchored myself to the ceiling with the help of my gear's molecular suction pads and hung upside down in a discreet service niche.

  I peeked out of my makeshift shelter.

  Everything looked upside down. I aimed at the Outlaw. My mind expander was a great help. This was a weird firing position. Still, my body adjusted to it quickly thanks to all the practice flights. In outer space, the idea of "up" and "down" soon loses its meaning.

  It was no harder than shooting down a drone while in a spin.

  Charon kept glancing at me, awaiting my signal.

  I nodded.

  He darted forward and loosed off a few rounds, immediately ducking into the nearest tunnel and pulling sharply to one side.

  His shots caused cascades of sparks to fly off one of the cars. One of the assassins went flying back. A huge hole gaped in his visor: Charon had managed to take one out.

  I fired several brief bursts. My position was excellent. The field of fire was perfect. Besides, our enemies were still pretty clueless, focusing their attention on Charon's lanky figure. They couldn't see me!

  Three of them went down. A few more scrambled back, apparently wounded, looking for somewhere to take cover. I put two bursts into the Outlaw. He only momentarily staggered in his massive armor that allowed him to stand steady on his feet. His powerful personal power shield had no problem absorbing the impacts, transforming my bullets into red-hot droplets of metal.

  Charon had shrunk into the shadows, merging with the wall. Excellent. He was doing it by the book. I pressed my body to the ceiling as a burst of response fire ripped through the cables, slicing off sections of pipework. The whole structure vibrated. Chemicals gushed out of the damaged pipes, forming bubbling pools of acid on the floor and filling the air with toxic fumes.

  Charon and I sprang into action on cue, the caustic haze our only ally. The bursts of the assassins' pulse guns were still hitting the ceiling when I dropped down and sprinted toward their impromptu barricade. Charon outran me, lithe and lethal, sliding along the wall instead of just charging blindly forward, covering the zone of fire in huge leaps. There was no way I could catch up with him. I stopped and opened fire, shooting at random simply to distract the enemy.

  My belt's power shield could still take a punch but my battery charge plummeted into the red. I couldn't see jack shit. I moved in bounds, heading for the opposite wall and catching a few more rounds which pierced the shield and ricocheted off my armor, striking sparks and leaving deep dents in the metal.

  I ran, giving it my all. The haze suddenly lifted, revealing the outline of the wrecked car. I flung myself over the hood and stumbled over a dead body. The time gap between a character's virtual death and his respawning serves to collect the loot from fallen enemies.

  I ducked. A new burst of fire whizzed overhead. A black figure loomed out of the haze. The Outlaw charged at me like a tank, his pockmarked armor glowing weakly. His confident precise movements made it clear his gear had been mechanically enhanced.

  I ducked to one side, sending a new burst of fire into his helmet. I breached his power shield but not the cargonite. The Outlaw staggered momentarily, then went for me, sweeping me off my feet in one powerful blow. The difference in our levels and gear was impressive. I tried to jump back to my feet but he punched me again with all the might of his mechanical enhancers, forcing my inadequate breastplate into my ribs. The agony was such that I couldn't breathe. He must have broken a few ribs for sure. My suit's split seams began to froth with the sealing foam. I think I passed out.

  This had to be another respawn. I could neither focus nor think straight. The Outlaw must have thought this was the end of me. He turned away and picked up the plasma torch. No idea what Charon was doing.

  I struggled to breathe, feeling the bloody froth bubble on my lips. The metabolic implant went into overdrive, burning my own body resources, but it made me feel better. An unnatural, feverish surge of energy flooded over me barely thinning out the crimson haze before my eyes — but it was enough to allow me to breathe and move.

  Charon burst into view. He and the Outlaw must have been almost equal... but I spoke too soon. A shattering blow sent the Haash flying across the floor.

  Why was Jurgen still inside? Groaning, I scrambled to one knee. I'd dropped the gun but it was useless anyway against this custom-made armored suit.

  The toxic haze was thinning out. The massive hatch of Jurgen's room was red-hot. The Outlaw was in a decisive mood. He didn't care about me anymore.

  I want armor like his. And a new level in exchange for my broken ribs, my mind switched over to gaming mode, instinctively trying to block out the hopelessness of the situation.

  I whipped out the sniper rifle from my inventory and aimed it at his head even as I realized this was nothing but a vain attempt to appease my ego. There was just no way I could bring him down.

  My hands were shaking. My left hand pulsated under the glove, the Founders' neuronet reminding me of itself. But what was the point?

  The gun sights kicked in, outlining the massive power unit of the plasma torch in red.

  This was suicide. That thing would explode with a vengeance.


  I limped back to the relative safety of the mangled car and took aim.

  A shot. A flash.

  You've received a new level!

  You've received a new level!

  Everything went dark.

  * * *

  My awakening was slow and painful. It hurt me to breathe. A strange room floated before my eyes. A massive figure bent over me.

  The Outlaw?

  "Calm down, you," Jurgen's voice came through as a weak far-off echo. "Hold still. You're safe."

  I heard the socket covers snap open on my wrist. The air reeked with something utterly foul.

  "More!" Jurgen addressed someone out of my field of vision. "Pass me the exo #15. These things are useless."

  I croaked, struggling to find my voice. I needed none of their exo shit!

  But they didn't seem interested in my opinion.

  "Now, Zander. It's gonna hurt. But you'll feel a whole lot better afterwards. There's no other way we can do it. You've got a punctured lung from your broken ribs. So brace yourself."

  I screamed.

  It felt as if they were pouring molten metal down my veins.

  I passed out.

  Darkness lasted but a moment, relieving and absolute. Then I came to again, readying myself for a new agony. But all I felt was an incredible lightness in my entire body as if I'd just been born again. I was alert and full of energy.

  Two people leaned over me. Their gear was just as good as the one the Outlaw had had, albeit not black. Cargonite has this particular bluish sheen. I could see their faces behind their visors: Jurgen and a strange woman I'd never seen before.

  "Charon," I still couldn't believe I wasn't hurting. My mouth was dry. It tasted foul.

  "Who, the Haash?" Jurgen asked. "He's all right. His gear took a bit of flak so he has trouble moving."