GAME SPACE - Full Novel

by Peter Jay Black

  “His stasis was interrupted,” Eve said. “That can cause permanent brain damage. You remember the training and the warnings they gave us.”

  “We all woke up abruptly,” Skylar said, not budging from my personal space. “We’re okay. None of us have forgotten who we are.”

  “That’s not true actually, sis,” Mason said. “We weren’t woken abruptly. Kelvin activated the stasis bed procedures for us.” He flapped an arm at me. “Leo’s bed slammed into the wall. Probably messed it up.”

  I let out a relieved sigh, as that was a far better excuse than I could ever come up with.

  “Look,” I said to Skylar in a soothing tone, “I totally don’t blame you for not trusting me. I’d be the same. But all I know is that I must find Grandma Alice.” I let out a breath. “Please. I’m begging you. I can’t do it alone. Will you help me?”

  "Of course.” Mason laid a hand on Skylar’s shoulder. “We’ll help each other.” He leaned in toward his sister. “We can’t save the Leviathan without him. He’s done nothing to hurt us. Only help.”

  “What about this?” Skylar held up the grav module. “You still haven’t explained where you got it.”

  “The CodeX," I said, and left it at that.

  After a few seconds scrutinising me, Skylar visibly relaxed and stepped back.

  Mason grinned and took the grav module from her.

  “Will it work?” I asked.

  Mason walked to the displays and placed the grav module in front of them. The floorboards parted, swallowing it whole, and snapped shut again.

  Mason studied a screen. “Full shields are being restored.” He turned to me. “Should be around twenty minutes to integrate into the ship.”

  Eve sat at another display and waved Skylar to the chair next to her. “It will take all of us to make sure it comes online safely and in a controlled manner. The AI is distracted with life support and internal repairs. We need to manage this ourselves.”

  Skylar nodded and sat down.

  “I’ll help,” Mason said, doing the same.

  “Shall I get Kelvin?” I felt like a spare wheel. “Where is he?”

  “In his room,” Mason said. “Three decks down.”

  I shivered.

  “It’s okay,” Eve said. “The elevator’s fixed now.”

  I frowned. “You’d better be right.”

  “His apartment is eight-eight-one-nine,” she said.

  I gaped. “You guys have your own apartments?”

  “I’ll follow you down once the worst of this is over.” Eve faced her screen and worked the controls with her phase-band, sending pulses of energy into the display.

  My stomach tensed as I walked from the bridge, across the gallery, and waited by the elevator.

  Sure enough, its doors opened, and it looked to be intact and working. I still hesitated, but I wanted to get through the remainder of the game as quickly as possible. Trying to push my anxiety aside, I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct level.

  I held my breath as the doors closed, but I needn’t have worried—under a minute later, I walked into a hallway.

  Doors lined the walls, along with oil paintings depicting various scenes. A group of monks gathered around a table, gazing at a chunk of Bluestone; a man with a dark beard and olive skin, wearing a long grey coat; and lastly, a stone village in a valley under a red sky.

  A golden dot pulsated ahead of me on the game map, and I headed in that direction, reading the glowing numbers etched into the woodwork above the doors.

  I found apartment eight-eight-one-nine and double-checked that the golden dot on my map was behind it. To the side of the door was a button I could only assume was a buzzer. I pressed it, and a voice called, “Come in.”

  I stepped through, and at first my brain couldn’t work out what my eyes were showing me.

  Apparently, this was Kelvin’s apartment. Although it was less like an apartment and more like a bomb had exploded at a jumble sale.

  Mounds of clothes littered the floor, and machinery and electronics covered every surface. Under all the junk, I could make out the outline of a bed in the corner.

  Kelvin hunched over a table cluttered with more junk, half-built contraptions, and gadgets, working on something wrapped in wires and tubes. When he spotted me, his eyes bulged from their sockets. “I can’t believe it. You’re alive.”

  I smiled. “And kicking.”

  “Oh, thank the Monolith. I thought I’d killed you.” Kelvin checked me out. “Are you all right? What happened? Eve scanned you and—”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Brought you a present.”

  Kelvin’s eyebrows lifted. “What?”

  “A grav module. The others are getting it up and running.”

  Kelvin punched the air. “Yes. Brilliant, Leo, utterly brilliant. I knew the CodeX would work.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Kelvin turned his attention back to the contraption he was working on. “I’ve got to get this finished for us to stand a chance.”

  I glanced around the devastated room. “This place looks as though it took a direct hit in the attack.”

  Kelvin looked puzzled. “What do you mean? This is normal.”

  A chair sat by the far wall. I made my way toward it, feeling like a rock climber—all I needed was a harness and ropes, some flares, and a radio to call mountain rescue in case I got lost. By some miracle I reached the chair and picked up a box of tools.

  “Careful,” Kelvin said. “They’re expensive.”

  I cleared a space on the floor with my foot and set the tools down. Once sure I was out of immediate danger, I took a seat.

  The far wall of Kelvin’s apartment was made entirely of glass, with a spectacular view—a perfect panorama of the cosmos stretching the entire width of the room. To the right was the ice planet, and to the left was the bulk of the debris field.

  Kelvin frowned. “Where did I put it?”

  “Put what?”

  “Transmitter coil assembly.” Kelvin gestured at the contraption. “With this scanner I’m hoping we can track down the source of the signal blocker.” He scratched his head and surveyed the apartment. “Pretty sure the coil was here a couple of days ago.” He lifted a heavy textbook from the table and peered underneath, revealing a half-eaten, crushed chocolate brownie covered in mold. “Hmm, maybe not.”

  Kelvin set the book down, covering the brownie—no doubt before it sprouted legs and walked off somewhere—then perused the room again.

  “What does it look like?” Even with an exact description, finding it among the clutter would be near-impossible.

  Movement flickered in the corner of my eye as something scurried over the piles of clothes. My first thought was a rat, but it was too big.

  Way too big.

  A sudden, horrifying snapshot of the animal dome on Discovery flashed into my head.

  Had we accidentally brought one of the murderous lunatics back with us?

  Thirty-Five

  I leapt from the chair as the creature snaked through a gap in the floor and made for me. It skidded to a halt, allowing me to get a closer look.

  The animal had white fur with black patches, four stubby legs, a fluffy tail, and large eyes now staring at my toes, a mere fraction of an inch away.

  “He likes feet.” Kelvin smirked. “Be grateful you’ve got boots on.”

  I dared not take my eyes off the creature as it sat down, its hind legs in front of its body. The animal’s front legs were more like arms, and it had tiny silvery hands. It also had bat-like ears covered in fine white fur, and a small nose and mouth similar to a cat’s.

  I’d seen nothing like it before.

  The fluffy creature stood and stretched its arms up to me. It was only a foot or so tall.

  “Chooke,” it said in a high-pitched squeak.

  The furball can talk?

  “That’s his name.” Kelvin rummaged through a pile of jeans and t-shirts, hunting for the co
il assembly.

  Chooke stretched his arms higher and rocked from side to side, impatient. “Up. Up. Chooke. Up.”

  “He won’t bite you,” Kelvin said, checking pockets.

  Chooke had a small mouth, so if he did bite, it probably wouldn’t hurt.

  Much.

  I’d still keep a close eye on my health meter.

  I lifted Chooke to head height, holding the animal at arm’s length. His legs swung back and forth, and his ears jerked with excitement.

  “Anden?” he squeaked.

  “Huh?”

  “He wants to know your name,” Kelvin said.

  “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Leo.”

  Chooke cocked his head to one side. “Lee-ooh?”

  “No. Lee-oh.”

  “Leeoo.” Chooke’s ears twitched and he whistled. “Leeoo.”

  “Ah, close enough,” I said.

  Kelvin huffed and threw the last pair of jeans into the corner of the room. “You’re wondering what he is, aren’t you?”

  I nodded.

  No other creatures could talk. Well, apart from parrots.

  “So, what is he?”

  Kelvin grinned. “Chooke’s a robot. I made him.”

  “A robot?”

  But the animal was so real.

  “Chooke,” Kelvin said. “Open.”

  Chooke clutched the fur at his chest with both hands and peeled back two flaps, revealing his inner workings. Shocked, I almost dropped him.

  “Told you he was a robot,” Kelvin said.

  Inside, Chooke was a cavity filled with whirring, spinning cogs and gears, along with all manner of electronics. In the middle of Chooke’s body, a shard of Bluestone glowed, held in place by a metal clasp, radiating warmth that flowed into my hands and up my arms.

  “He’s incredible.” I shook my head. “This is amazing work.”

  Chooke seemed so lifelike.

  “Thanks. Now,” Kelvin searched through the nearest shelf, “where’s the coil?” A chirping sound came from the door, and Kelvin’s head snapped toward it. “No way.”

  Chooke closed his chest and wriggled. I lowered him to the floor, and he scampered off.

  I straightened. “Who is it?”

  Kelvin rushed around his apartment, grabbing handfuls of clothes and slinging them onto his bed. “I told them I’d be back on the bridge when I was done.” He slid a mound of objects under the table with his foot and scooped up an armful of clutter, turning on the spot, looking for somewhere to offload it.

  The door chirped again. Kelvin groaned, dropped the items on the table, and took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

  “Kelvin?”

  “Hey, Eve.”

  “You’ve been gone ages,” she said. “Are you going to let me in?”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  Kelvin glanced around the room and shuddered. “I mean, sure, come in.”

  The door opened. Eve stepped through and surveyed the mess. “Is this where clothes come to die?” She turned her gaze on Kelvin. “Now I know why you never invite anyone in here.”

  Kelvin’s already pink face turned cherry red.

  Eve continued to scan the apartment. “Oh, there you are,” she said to me. “I didn’t see you.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I muttered.

  Eve faced Kelvin. “I’m guessing you haven’t finished the scanner yet.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing?” Kelvin picked up a box of electronic parts and rifled through them.

  “He’s lost some kind of coil,” I said in reply to Eve’s puzzled expression.

  “I know I’ve put it somewhere safe.” Kelvin dropped the box and rummaged through another. “No idea where that is, though.”

  “You and me both,” I murmured.

  Eve bounded across the room, jumping over the clothes and detritus with the sure-footedness of a mountain goat. There was a squeak, and she leapt back.

  Chooke stood on his hind legs. “Eve.”

  Eve’s eyes lit up. “Chookey.” She scooped him into her arms. “I haven’t seen you for ages.” She scowled at Kelvin. “The nasty boy doesn’t bring you to the academy anymore.”

  Kelvin dropped the second box with a disgruntled huff. “We’re supposed to be working.”

  Eve stroked the fur between Chooke’s ears. “I’ve missed you.” She set him down and searched through a mound of clutter crammed onto the nearest shelf. “Where did you last have it? What does it look like?” Eve extracted a metal box and made to open it.

  Kelvin snatched it from her. “Do you mind?”

  Eve pouted. “You know there’s a much quicker way to find it, don’t you?”

  Kelvin replaced the box on the shelf. “Like how?”

  Eve pointed at Chooke, who sat on the floor, inspecting a discarded sweet wrapper.

  Kelvin stared a moment, then realisation swept across his face. “Of course. Hey, Chooke?”

  Chooke tossed the wrapper over his shoulder and peered up at Kelvin with innocent, saucer-like eyes.

  Kelvin grabbed a notepad and pen, sketched what he was looking for, and held the drawing out for Chooke to see. “Spotted one of these recently?”

  Chooke blinked a few times, scurried off to Kelvin’s bed, and disappeared underneath. There was a rustling sound, followed by something snapping, and a moment later Chooke reappeared with the coil.

  Kelvin took it from him. “Thanks.”

  “Can we go now, please?” Eve said as Chooke dove head-first into a mound of socks. I had to agree; I was eager to find this damn Kraython signal blocker.

  Kelvin fitted the coil assembly to his contraption and lifted it from the table. “Done.”

  As we hurried to the bridge, I only hoped we had enough time before the Leviathan arrived.

  * * *

  Kelvin installed his scanner in a display console and turned to face me. “We’re halfway there. Now we need to see how well your CodeX implant is working.” Kelvin nodded at me and stepped back. “Do it.”

  I glanced at the others, unsure what he meant. They stared back, waiting.

  “Is it on?” Mason asked.

  “It’s on,” Eve said.

  “Are you looking inside my head again?” I said.

  She nodded.

  I winced. “Can you not do that, please?” What a disgusting habit.

  Skylar gave a dubious look. “You’re positive it’s working?”

  “Definitely,” Eve said.

  “Ask the CodeX to explain what gravity is.” Kelvin watched me as if I were a specimen to study. “That’ll be a good starting point,” he continued.

  I muttered, “CodeX? What’s gravity?”

  Nothing happened.

  I shrugged.

  Skylar rolled her eyes. “Oolak.”

  In this instance, I agreed with her—I was an oolak, and I had to try harder. If I could make myself useful, perhaps she’d accept me into their group more willingly.

  “You need to relax,” Eve said in a soft voice. “Bonding to an artifact takes seconds, controlling it can take years.”

  Well, that would partly explain why the CodeX had been such an awkward dick up to that point.

  “Close your eyes,” Eve said. “Deep breaths.”

  I did as she asked, pulling in a big gulp of air, and another.

  “Relax your muscles,” Mason said, and then muttered, “What little ones you have, that is.”

  Skylar sniggered.

  “Shut up,” Eve hissed.

  I continued taking breaths, chest rising and falling, and once I felt as relaxed as I was going to get, I opened my eyes. “CodeX, what’s gravity?”

  A burst of stars flooded my mind, almost knocking me off balance. “Woah.” I blinked.

  “Again,” Kelvin urged. “Try again.”

  I steadied myself and let out another slow breath. “CodeX,” I repeated. “What’s gravity?”

  Then the weirdest thing happened—the CodeX explained.

>   Information rushed into my brain in the form of three-dimensional images only I could see.

  “The Azurean Theory of Gravity,” a disembodied voice declared, and I recognised Ayesha’s dulcet tone, “postulates gravity is the strongest force in the known universe.”

  With Kelvin, Mason, Eve and Skylar motionless, like four waxworks, an uneven bubble appeared between us, filled with billions of points of light.

  “The universe.”

  The bubble expanded, filling the bridge, and the view rotated, showing the underside of the outer skin.

  “Azurean scientists discovered gravitational waves are generated due to an energy difference from outside the universe, an inward pressure on every atom within.”

  Marked in green, waves rippled from the surface of the bubble, heading inward, and I rode along with them, like an intergalactic surfer, flying through strings of galaxies, rushing past countless stars, bending around black holes, and zooming ever inward, until a blue planet appeared, majestic, rotating in the void.

  At first, it looked like Earth, but the islands were far too small, the oceans vast—another blue jewel among the stars.

  Gravity waves hit the planet from every angle and they weakened as they passed on through the mass, some of their energy absorbed by the matter within, so they were less powerful once they popped out the other side, while the waves from above remained strong.

  “Gravity waves hold objects to the planet,” Ayesha said. “The larger the planet, the more the waves are filtered from below, absorbed, and the apparent force from above increases.”

  The view zoomed out, showing an astronaut with gravity waves hitting them from every angle and passing through their body, mostly unaffected, causing them to be weightless, balanced by an equal force.

  The image swung around, the astronaut disappeared, and clusters of galaxies moved back into view.

  “The entire universe derives its energy from gravitational waves,” Ayesha said. “Light’s momentum, strong and weak nuclear forces, magnetism, heat, even the ticking hand of time, all—”

  ‘Stop,’ I said in my mind.

  It was cool and everything—the game world explaining its internal mechanics, how it ticked, but I found it overwhelming, and impossible to control. I bent over as the images stuttered and then vanished.