Edge of Reality

by Andrei Livadny

  "Liori, take away the children. Get them under cover."

  Although blind to the danger, she obeyed. Not having received any orders, Arbido froze, looking around.

  "Charon?"

  "I don't feel anything," he admitted.

  "Cover me."

  I moved up front. Both my mind expander and metabolic implant were in overdrive. My left hand began to tingle. I was already used to it so I simply made a mental note. The very activation of the Founders' AI neuronet was already bad news.

  You've received a new level!

  Why on earth? I missed a step, casting suspicious glances around. Nothing.

  Very well. I'd have to look into it later. There was nothing wrong with receiving a new level even though normally you had to earn it. It must have been some glitchy patch or other.

  I continued walking.

  The ravaged deck became narrower, curving. To my both sides, frayed optic cables shorted out, illuminating our way.

  I was already a good fifty paces in front of everyone. The scanning radius was clear. Not a single marker. It was probably time for me to stop and wait for Charon to catch up. Then we could investigate further.

  I swung round, realizing this was exactly what they wanted me to do. There was no one around here, but the moment I disappeared around the bend, a fine web of screened cables and the forest of upended beams left from the ancient disaster would block my sensors' signal.

  I crouched, pretending I was fixing some gear malfunction while focusing the scanners by narrowing their apertures. Got it. Three weak signatures above and behind me.

  My sniper sights promptly kicked in, zooming in on a fragment of the deck's broken ceiling. Now I could clearly see three Outlaws who lay in hiding by the edge of the deck. Their levels were rather low: ten to fifteen. Further on, the scan registered a weak thermal spike. Could this be a module with a shut-down reactor?

  It could and it was.

  I read their signatures: not an easy skill but when you're cornered, you learn fast.

  These Outlaws weren't as well equipped as my recent opponent. I didn't see the power imprints from their individual power shields. Then again, they might have switched them off in order not to attract attention.

  Their module was what interested me. Under any other circumstances I'd have tried to capture it, but now I was curious: who were they ambushing here? It couldn't be us. The only person who knew about our supposed route was Jurgen.

  Jurgen.

  How much did I actually know about him?

  The situation wasn't good. Our potential enemy was located two floors above. Climbing up there would take me some time. Should I take the risk and tell Liori to proceed while controlling the area from where I now was? And if the Outlaws opened fire, would I be able to take them out in time?

  Too risky.

  Suddenly I noticed two pale power imprints deep in our rear, above the demolished stump of the tunnel that we'd just cleared. Snipers. How could I have missed them?

  I PM'd Liori, Stay where you are.

  I forwarded my mental images to Charon, trying hard to visualize them clearly. He didn't let me down. Unhurriedly he headed toward me. Arbido alone stood exposed, looking around him without seeing anything. I understood his predicament. Without implants, his level 1 avatar was virtually blind.

  I sent him a message, ordering him to find cover and lie low.

  He was quietly panicking but the Outlaws didn't seem to be interested in him. They still seemed to be waiting for something or other.

  Charon caught up with me. We exchanged a few phrases and he disappeared uphill.

  I couldn't understand it. They weren't trying to attack us. And still they'd cut off our escape routes.

  My PM box blinked.

  "Zander, you're not taking me alive!" Liori's voice was shaking.

  Was she raving mad? Her words pierced me like a stab in the back, the hostility and contempt in her voice so tangible that I too simmered with rage. "Charon, hold on a bit."

  By then, he'd already disappeared out of the enemy's line of vision and begun his perilous ascent, planning to strike their rear on my command. He now froze, fading into the mangled background, awaiting further instructions.

  "What's your problem, Liori? Tell me," I struggled not to yell at her. I didn't even try to divine the reason for such a change in her attitude.

  "I trusted you!" her voice was a mixture of frustration, contempt and cornered courage.

  Oh, great. She'd chosen excellent timing to clear the air. Naturally, I was mad at her. We were surrounded, for crissakes! We had to think and act fast, not-

  Wait up. A bad premonition arose in me. What had I gotten that new level for?

  I opened my char's stats.

  Zander. Outlaw. Level 17. Pilot.

  Now it all began to click into place. Both the enemy's indecision and Liori's behavior had found their explanation. Had she thought I'd lured the group into a trap? Then again, what else could she have thought? With snipers behind her and armed enemies in front lying in wait next to a camouflaged module? And a freshly-minted Outlaw blocking her way to freedom?

  I scanned the logs, looking for the system message in question — the one informing me about the alternative plot line activation and what consequences it could have for me. I'd actually expected it to happen later — only after Eurasia's arrival — but apparently, it wasn't supposed to happen that way. By becoming the leader of the group, I must have crossed the invisible line, probably triggering some switch of no return.

  I forwarded her the logs.

  I didn't expect her to reply straight away. After all, it was my fault. I should have told them. But who could have known that my status change would be so unexpected?

  I contacted the Outlaws. "Who's in charge?" I asked uncivilly, addressing no one in particular. My gear had to sufficiently impress them — or at least so I hoped. My current level, too, was slightly higher than theirs.

  "Riedok," they replied.

  "Hold your snipers, will ya?"

  "Who the fuck are you?"

  "These are Jyrd's prisoners," Jyrd was the name of the elite Outlaw that I'd put on my KOS list. "Why, you wanna talk to him?"

  "He's out of range."

  "I bet he is. And so is his respawn point," I ad libbed while estimating the distance from the station to the asteroid belt as millions of miles — way too far for instant communications.

  Chars like this Jyrd would play it safe, for sure. His respawn point must have been set up in some cozy little bunker deep in the depths of one of those space boulders.

  "Zander, do I know you?" Riedok kept doubting.

  "You should. So are you letting us through or do you want me to send you back to your respawn too to improve your memory?"

  He paused. "Very well. You can go now. I'll ask Jyrd about you."

  "Please do. He knows me well," this time I didn't lie. It would take him some time to forget his inglorious death at the station.

  I PM'd Liori.

  Without replying, she walked out into the open, playing the part of a prison guard. Her status as a mercenary fitted the role well enough not to raise any suspicions. The children grew quiet, scrambling along in silence. The emotional atmosphere was depressing. Arbido joined the group: yet another frail and harmless little figure.

  We disappeared uphill but it was too early to relax. From their prominent position, the Outlaws could see us well. I PM'd Liori again, telling her to contact the others and instruct them to move to the RV via tunnels without hovering around in the open.

  I could already see that the mercs would be a problem. They weren't going to appreciate my inopportunely timed clan affiliation.

  Charon joined us. For him, I was always a Friend of the Haash, whatever my status.

  We walked quickly. Liori didn't speak. I didn't force her to.

  The admins' predictions seemed to be coming true. The two Founders' frigates highjacked by the Pilots suddenly gunned their engines,
approached the station and opened fire.

  Once again the station shuddered with explosions. My field of vision flickered with tiny bright dots that swirled around like an enormous swarm of lightning bugs. Bigger dots started joining them. I opened the combat chat and checked the predictable information.

  The station was under attack from the Dargians, Wearongs and the Kamresh. They weren't exactly allies, the chat flashing with messages about clashes between them. Still, their feuds weren't going to change the developers' new scenario.

  Our two fighters — Liori's and mine — had already left their docking pads and were heading for the RV on autopilot. This had been a risky decision but we didn't have much choice. We couldn't go back to fetch them across the collapsing station: far too dangerous and way too time-consuming.

  The space battle was gaining a new fierce momentum. But this wasn't our war anymore.

  Had the Pilots clan had some clever unhesitant leaders, they could have united the surviving players. But judging by the messages in the combat chat, the centralized control of the station was now gone. The Corporations were busy defending their sectors. The Technologists had been pulverized by the Outlaws. Both the Mechanics and the Engineers were nowhere to be seen. The network rumors claimed that they had retreated to their well-prepared shelters in the station's inaccessible depths.

  The only positive person among us who didn't seem to be concerned with future unpredictability was Charon. He looked driven and determined. He had put his full trust in me which I wished I could say about the others. Basically, we were a bunch of strangers drawn together by some overwhelming circumstances.

  I took the lead. Honestly, I just didn’t want to speak to anyone. I continually scanned both hemispheres, searching the rampant edge of the station in front. The area was deserted, free from both mobs and humans, the weak radioactivity level being our only intrusive companion. Apparently, we were being spared for some future tribulations.

  The deck was listing to one side. I could discern the outline of the third hangar in front, the one which had never been restored. My fighter ship contacted us. Liori sent me a quick message: apparently, her ship too had safely reached the RV.

  Tension grew with every step we took. We were about to face thirty mercs. I was pretty sure that they'd had dealings with the Outlaws in the past so the change in my status wouldn't be that much of a problem — but I still had to check that out. Jurgen too would demand an explanation.

  But this wasn't what I was worried about. Mercenaries were loners by definition. They rarely acted in large groups. In outer space, two were a team. Naturally, large raids to other stations and planets must have taught them cooperation, but as far as I'd heard, this kind of unity dissipated the moment a battle was over. Especially if the loot was good.

  I looked back, checking on the kids. They were tired, slowing us down considerably. What was going to happen to them if the adults began fighting over their trophy, refusing to come to an agreement on using the Founders' ship?

  Do you think I was trying to skin a tiger before it was dead? In a situation like this, you had to think several moves ahead. One other thing worried me: I didn't think the mercs would accept the Haash. The local humans despised xenomorphs, period. I didn't know yet how I was going to get around this, but one thing I did know: over the last few days, I'd suffered a serious mindset shift.

  * * *

  The lopsided deck ended in an abrupt jagged drop. I raised a warning hand and stopped by the edge, peering down until I noticed tiny human figures below. "Jurgen?"

  The few seconds of anxious waiting were akin to eternity.

  "Zander, we've made it. But you owe me an explanation. Didn't I warn you about the Outlaws?"

  "You might need to ask Liori about that. I don't think you'll believe me. Just don't forget I'm the only person who knows on which of the ten stations the Founders' ship is docked," I added a large-caliber argument.

  It had only been three hours and I was already exhausted. This exo stuff was by no means a solution. My ribs were aching; I struggled to breathe. I hadn't felt it at first but now all the exertion began to manifest itself.

  I had to suffer in silence. Alien stimulants weren't a safe option. I just hoped my body would be able to recuperate during the two-hour flight to the station.

  While Liori and Jurgen set about exchanging messages, I removed Charon's and Arbido's — yes, his too — slave collars. The situation was unpredictable. You never know, we might end up having to survive on our own.

  "Zander," Jurgen finally contacted me. "Forgive me if I'm wrong but I still don't understand why your status changed like this."

  "Clans have been dissolved," I answered curtly. "You'll just have to trust me that I don't mean any harm. Time will tell, anyway."

  "Right. I'll trust you in the meantime. Now listen-"

  "Jurgen," I interrupted him without ceremony, "you need to understand. This raid could be lethal. Our entire future depends upon it. So it can only have one leader."

  "Who is-?"

  "Me."

  "Sorry, Zander. Don't you think you're still too-"

  "I am the raid leader. That's non-negotiable."

  "Check out the mercs' levels," he suggested grimly. "Do you think they'll accept you?"

  "Leave that to me."

  "Whatever. In a minute, Frieda will take the children aboard with those two, Charon and Arbido."

  "Charon's staying with me."

  "You can't! The mercs will rip him to shreds."

  "That's my business." I wasn't in the mood to argue with him. I'd given my situation enough thought on the way to the RV. I'd also remembered a thing or two I knew about virtual gameplay.

  So you want an alternative plot line? I looked up, staring into the fathomless void of outer space. I'll give it to you, I promised, addressing the invisible but omnipresent force.

  Two cargo modules silently hove into view above the station's ragged edge. Jesus. This was even more primitive than I'd expected: a couple of cargo containers with a jury-rigged propulsion system and something that vaguely resembled a vitrified cockpit.

  This was a disaster. Would these things even make it to the station? Having said that, they should. You could fly a soapbox in outer space if necessary, provided you didn't have to enter an atmosphere. The containers were crude and comfortless: just some seats welded to the floor. Better that than nothing, I suppose.

  Cautiously the children clambered inside and took their places. Liori buckled them in while instructing Arbido who was to fly with the kids.

  Charon and I took our places in the other "spacecraft".

  * * *

  Our brief flight brought no surprises. Jurgen controlled it well. In the absence of G-force absorbers, maneuvering this rust bucket took a lot of skill. I had to review our schedule. Our journey to the station would take at least six or seven hours.

  Actually, I wasn't yet sure the raid would transpire after all.

  I sensed a gentle deceleration. We'd arrived. The container's unpressurized door shuddered open.

  Liori, Charon and myself stepped out, finding ourselves inside an enormous hangar.

  Thirty-two mercenaries and three pilots were already there, casting curious looks at us.

  I joined the group's local network. Reality faded as human faces filled my mental view.

  I didn't study their expressions. They all looked grim and disinterested. I met a few stares that held nothing but a disdainful promise: just wait till you take us there, and then you're toast.

  I wasn't at all happy with their attitude. I wasn't going to watch my back for the rest of my life. "Which of you arrived with the First Colonial Fleet?"

  Not a muscle twitched on their gloomy faces. Some lips curled in a smirk. The mercs were strong. They'd been in the game for at least three or four years and not a single one of them had bought into Phantom Server's authenticity.

  I PM'd each of them personally, quoting the Wiki update and adding my own thought
s on the significance of neuroimplants and our own role as guinea pigs.

  It didn't look as if I'd told them something new as far as AI neuronet modules were concerned. But the Wiki update was a shock for everyone. Yeah right, they were too experienced to bother to check such newb sources.

  I didn't have to explain what it meant to all of us. Their expressions changed, cold confidence giving way to reserved curiosity as they eyed me with the unasked question, So what do we do next?

  They realized that whoever stayed on Argus was doomed. What they didn't yet realize was that our escape to the neighboring station wouldn't save us from the total purge.

  I forwarded them the logs of the admins' offer and my response to them.

  Not all of them grasped it at once. Some eyes glazed over as if the mercs were busy checking Argus' agonizing network for confirmation of what they'd just learned.

  Predictably, they found none.

  Again all eyes were on me.

  "I can prove it," I said. "I can do it now. One thing, though. You need to make up your minds, now. I want no hassles in the future — no grudges, no backpedaling. Agreed?"

  My words still seemed to fall on deaf ears.

  "I was the one who activated the alternative plot line. Whoever wants to join me, be my guest," I pointed at an old paint marker still visible on the hangar floor. "If you're with me, step over it. That will mean you accept me as your raid leader. If our mission is a success, I will take command of the ship. This is the only invitation you'll get. Conditions are non-negotiable. That applies to everyone!"

  Jurgen and Frieda looked pretty lost. My arguments meant nothing to them: stripped of their real-life memory, the two couldn't even fathom their actual meaning.

  Liori, however, seemed to grasp everything perfectly well.

  She'd been left with no choice. She must have thought I was putting her under pressure. But still, she was the first to cross the painted line and stand next to me.

  A surprised murmur ran through this disorganized bunch of seasoned warriors. Their faces dropped.

  Jurgen gave me the evil eye. Suddenly he stepped forward and stood next to me, apparently wishing to call my bluff.