You’ve received a new level!
Your Mnemotechnics skill has grown 1 pt.!
Your Alien Technologies skill has grown 3 pt.!
You have 2 new nanite activation codes available!
“Sorry, Jurgen, can it wait until I’m back? I’m a bit busy right now.”
“Very well. You do what you can.”
* * *
I opened my character’s characteristics.
The rapid developments of the last few hours had forced me to ignore system messages. My mind barely registered them, dismissing their contents.
Within that time, I’d destroyed the shipyard, smoked about a hundred drones, downed five Raiders and was constantly busy with nanites.
No wonder I’d grown 12 levels.
My Robot Technician skill which I’d received way back on Argus and which had grown 3 pt. during my memorable fight with Dargian pythons, had now risen another 50%.
The question remained, was this information worth anything anymore?
The ambiguity of the situation was quite unsettling. On one hand, once I’d learned the truth I’d stopped paying the same attention to the char’s characteristics as before. On the other, I was contradicting my own logic still putting my faith into the abilities I knew I had.
The truth had to lie somewhere in between. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover some real-life skills integrated into the game interface.
At the moment, all I was interested in were nanite activation codes. They were definitely real. I knew that from experience!
Mnemotechnics Skill
Current level: 25
Abilities available:
Replication, 15
Steel Mist, 5
Object Replication, 4
Piercing Vision, 3
Integration, 2
Breakdown, 5
Plasma Blast, 5
Differential Nanite Control, 3
Disintegration, 10
System Failure, 5
Advanced integration, 2
The Call, 1
Self-Sacrifice, 1
Plasma Lash, 2 (requires a generator built by Object Replication)
You have 2 new nanite activation codes!
You have 19 characteristic, skill and ability points available!
On Liori’s advice, I’d boosted Disintegration already during our battle with the Raiders. As a close-range weapon, it was truly lethal — but as it had turned out, using it required a powerful ship with excellent shields.
We couldn’t even fathom the true potential of these ancient alien technologies. Even at my current level of Disintegration, we could have deterred the Raiders’ attack had I been on board the Relic and had it had enough energy to power the shields. I was beginning to understand that Founders’ ships didn’t really need any cumbersome weapon systems which were a pain to operate. All they needed was a well-trained crew with advanced nanite control skills. The range of nanite application was so broad one couldn’t even imagine all the possibilities it offered.
In which case, who had equipped the Relic with all those coil guns, laser beams and plasma batteries? We had to examine the ship again and try to envision it the way it had been when it had first been conceived.
But I digress.
My mind was in turmoil. The sheer thought of all the mysteries contained within the Founders’ technosphere was overwhelming. As my combat with the Raiders had just shown, I could select a target by focusing on it and then decide whether I wanted to disable it or disintegrate it on the spot.
Let’s see what the activation codes would offer.
I entered them in a special box, one after another.
New ability available: Global Net. You can now receive status reports from devices located in other star systems. Requires 70 Mnemotechnics and a functioning hyperspace communications module.
New Ability available: Active Shield. From now on, the nanites you create will automatically react to any threat by forming a protective cover. Requires 30 Mnemotechnics, 20 Replication, 10 Differential Nanite Control and an implanted artificial neuronet module to recognize any potential threat and control nanite groups automatically.
The new abilities’ icons were gray. Blocked. What a shame.
The nanites busy exploring the asteroid fragments kept streaming data to two scanning devices which relayed it to my mind expander. I felt increasingly unwell. Once I received another level, my XP bar began to slow down.
Alien Technologies, 30. Finally! Now I’d be able to examine neurochips.
Actually, I already had two artificial neuronets available for study. One was the AI module implanted into my nervous system (yes, the one that used to belong to the monster who’d attempted to take control over me when our assault group had been about to land on Darg). Plus I had Liori’s identity matrix confined within the cybermodule that the hybrid had made for me.
I glanced at the sensors. The asteroid belt seemed calm. Still, I knew this was a lull before the storm. Avatroid was obliged to send drones to investigate the wreckage of the base which had been his birthplace.
Which meant I shouldn’t waste time. Let nanites keep collecting data. I had other things to do.
* * *
A slim plate bespangled with neurochips floated in mid-air in front of me.
I’d removed the silvery cover. A light cloud of nanites surrounded the object, awaiting my command.
I was taking my time. I had no margin for error. The neurochips were oxidized but not destroyed. The cover had taken the worst of the heat exposure. Restoring it wasn’t a problem.
I began scanning the neurochips, trying to locate the damage.
Gradually a 3D model began forming in my mental view. I watched the layers of artificial nervous tissue grow, immersing myself into this yet unfamiliar world of neurons and their complex interwoven structures which resembled three-dimensional cobwebs. Some of its threads were broken, unable to transmit electric impulses.
My breathing was fast and deep. I had to remain calm. I was to locate one undamaged neurochip, then copy its structure.
I didn’t notice the time fly. My tension was such that reality had faded.
The object’s matrix has been created and downloaded to your mind expander
Finally, the data processing stopped. I channeled all available resources into copying a simple neuronet module built by the hybrid. They were the building blocks of every AI. If I managed to build it, then-
That was irrelevant. The nanites were ready.
The replication matrix accepted.
The mental image recognized.
Warning! The object cannot be replicated. Creating it requires 100 Mnemotechnics.
Dammit!
Trying not to disrupt my concentration, I pulled the Founders’ glove out of my inventory and slipped it on.
You have activated an item: Modulator.
Class: rare, indestructible.
Permanent effect:
+1 to Intellect
+1 to Learning Skills
+2 to Alien Technologies
+1 to Mnemotechnics
Let’s do it again.
Object replication. Come on, now!
The object cannot be replicated. Your skill level is too low.
Dark circles swirled before my eyes. I was shaking with tension. As I tried to catch my breath and concentrate, the Founders’ glove blurred, enveloped by an aura. Threadlike charges of energy reached out for the broken cybermodule, touching its chips and branching off as if exploring them.
Not enough data to commence automatic repairs. Please connect specialized databases to continue.
The system message brought me back to reality. Did that mean that by the Founders’ standards, an artificial neuronet was a rather ordinary device?
I checked my interface again. Apparently, this glove — part of an ancient gear kit I’d come across back on Argus — had a number of built-in functions. Until now, their controls had been disabled but now that I’d gone up through the levels, I d
iscovered a new entry in the Repairs tab:
Damaged Equipment Repairs
Requires: a Founders’ glove (a Modulator gear version), 30 Alien Technologies and 30 Mnemotechnics.
I could do that!
I selected the freshly-scanned model of the functioning neurochip and uploaded it to the Modulator.
The replication matrix accepted. Please select the object requiring repairs.
I focused on the cybermodule’s damaged elements, selecting them one by one.
Task accepted. Now attempting to restore the neuronet units using the sample provided.
I watched closely as the threadlike charges of energy enveloped the damaged plate. Nanites obediently joined in as the Modulator used them as raw materials. A separate bar appeared in my interface to report on the repairs’ status.
An emergency signal entered my mind, disrupting my thoughts. Several weak notches appeared just within the scanners’ range. Avatroid’s fleet!
I called off the nanites still busy studying the asteroid’s destroyed laboratories. They’d failed to locate neither the artifact itself nor its fragments. Still, there was nothing I could do about it. We had to make ourselves scarce.
Both The Call and Object Replication worked like a dream. The recalled nanites formed two strong cables, towing Liori’s ship safely in my Condor’s wake.
I headed toward Argus. Considering my engines’ feeble output, it would probably take me six hours to get there, give or take.
I checked the auto pilot. It worked fine. I double-checked the repairs bar. It was barely moving even though the nanobots kept toiling away.
I could barely keep my eyes open. I hadn’t slept for over twenty-four hours. I needed some rest. Or rather, my mortal body needed it, left on far-off Earth.
Trying to fight off fatigue wasn’t a good idea. I was beyond exhaustion.
* * *
I awoke to a quaint long-forgotten feeling, warm and peaceful. The way I used to wake up when I’d been very, very young.
I opened my eyes. Was this the same old cockpit? Dozens of holographic tablets exuded a soft light, scrolling data interspersed with schemes of strange devices. The dead fire-damaged control consoles towered further away. Overhead, breach holes leaked darkness.
The cockpit was at the mercy of the infinite vacuum. Half-turned toward me, Liori sat cross-legged, leaning comfortably in a seat formed by nanites.
She wasn’t wearing a pressure suit. Still, the resemblance was striking. Sensing my stare, she turned round.
What was technology doing to us?
Our minds touched, then merged in an acute, desperate bout of gentleness.
The cold melted away. The darkness shrank back. Warm sunrays lit up our faces. A breeze ruffled my hair. The gray outlines of sea cliffs acquired shape and depth. The roots of squat pine trees clung to the cracked rock. Flat waves shimmied along the pebble beach.
An uncontrollable surge of emotion surged through us, burning our minds, distorting reality and wiping away the panorama of deep space. We failed to keep our balance on the edge.
Darkness embraced us.
Connection error. The external neuronet is not connected to your mind expander. Direct contact is not possible.
“Zander? Can we ever be together?” Liori’s voice brought me back into the Condor’s savaged cockpit.
The dull glow of screens assaulted my eyes. Once again the veil of nanites formed her image. This was enough to drive anyone crazy. Still, I resisted insanity.
“We’ll manage,” I answered with a quiet confidence. “There must be a solution.”
Liori returned to her seat and zoomed in the repairs status bar.
99%
“You’ve repaired me. Repaired. Do you understand? I’m a machine now. A cyber system that can be fixed or rebooted. And what if we don’t find a solution? Does that mean I’ll stay here all alone?”
Cruel but true.
Liori cut herself short, as if regretting her hasty outburst. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
Both of us were crushed by this spontaneous mind contact which had ended as abruptly as it had started.
How did I want to bring it back! Then again, why not? The module containing Liori’s identity was within my reach. Problem was, I couldn’t unseal my helmet in the surrounding vacuum.
Still, this was something I could solve.
I activated Nanite Replication. Starboard echoed with a dull thumping sound as I sacrificed a few of the ship’s armor plates. I had no other source of cargonite available.
Liori cast me a quizzical look. “Are you increasing the Steel Mist? Why?”
“Just in case.”
The nanites had already commenced emergency sealing procedures. They might need several minutes to repair all the numerous points of damage to the ship’s hull. In the meantime, I motioned to the screens, trying to assuage her anxiety, “What have you been doing?”
“Just fooling around. I tried to look into the game’s interface and see which of our abilities were part of the Founders’ technosphere and which were just figments of game developers’ fantasy. Here, take a look.”
Four holographic tablets moved closer to me.
Each one revealed a first-person view.
My interface was the one on the right. I immediately recognized its translucent ability icons crowding the quick access slots — and below them, Life and Physical Energy bars. Danger sensors of all kinds waited drowsily in their gray boxes. The fine inconspicuous lines of the scanning grid covered my entire field of vision. The gravitech and life support power levels glowed green; the outlines of life support cartridges that might need changing were highlighted in yellow. A flat micro nuclear battery unit was hatched in red.
The second screenshot was definitely Charon’s. It showed a fragment of the Market Desk back on Argus. The Haash’ eyesight is different from ours in that they can see the objects at the periphery of their eyesight, as well as objects’ thermal imprints. For that reason, the three-dimensional image on the screen looked unusual as every object was outlined in greens of every shade and degree of intensity.
“Take a look at the icons’ design and positioning,” Liori said softly.
I took a second look — and was astounded. You’d think that a Haash interface would be utterly alien to the point of being unidentifiable. Still, his interface was a carbon copy of mine!
I turned to the third tablet. This was the screenshot I’d received from the Disciples’ leader back on Darg. When we’d been battling our way through the ancient biological laboratories, Roakhmar had forwarded me this snapshot in an attempt to help me focus on the target. A hydra-like monster was careening at us head-on through a long succession of rooms. Its abominable shape was overlain with elements of the Dargian interface. The resemblance was striking: the picture was virtually identical to mine!
The fourth screen showed my ship’s cockpit in real time, streamed by Liori.
“As you can see, my interface is identical to the other three,” she said. “Even though it in fact belongs to an ancient AI.”
This revelation was mind-blowing. The only difference in the four layouts created by four unrelated space civilizations was in their languages: the tongues of the Haash, the Dargians and humans respectively. All the rest, down to the relative positioning of the development branches and their effects was identical!
“Does that mean that the interface was built by the Founders?” after having seen it with my own eyes, this was the logical conclusion.
“Absolutely. The way I see it, the military back on Earth discovered some artifact — a neuroimplant, most likely. They must have studied it and used it as a prototype to build more of them. Then they used us to test them. I’m pretty sure the Haash and the Dargians followed the same route. Plus dozens of other civilizations we know yet nothing about,” Liori turned to me, hope in her gaze. “Do you understand? None of our abilities are made-up! The Founders built this interface to use it themselves in or
der to travel through the Universe. Even if I’m the only one who survives,” tears glistened in her eyes, “I’ll level up Mnemotechnics and bring you all back to life, I promise! I’ll piece your identities together neurogram by neurogram and byte by byte!”
By then, the nanites were done sealing the ship. I sent a mental command, assigning part of the ship’s power to atmosphere regeneration. Then I removed my helmet, unbuckled and rose, reaching out my hand.
“Zander? What do you think you’re doing?”
The thin plate covered with neurochips clicked shut in its dedicated mind expander slot.
External neuronet connected.
+5 to your Mnemotechnics skill.
Direct neurosensory contact established.
The gloom of deep space faded away.
Sunrays began to fall on our faces. A breeze tousled Liori’s hair.
“Zander,” she returned my kiss, nestling up to me.
Red sand crunched underfoot. A purple surf broke over the boundless coastline awash with orange light. No idea where my subconscious had unearthed these images from. For Liori and myself, they’d forever remain the epitome of happiness.
Chapter Three
The Darg System
The Relic’s dark outline was barely discernible against the backdrop of the gutted station.
The frigate lay low, safely concealed by the veil of her force shields.
I began closing in, Liori’s fighter following in my wake. The area around was littered with pieces of mauled framework and other debris left from the battle for Argus.
“Docking pod 10 activated,” Jurgen reported. “I’m sending you a plotted course.”
Having received it, I steered my Condor into a narrow crevice between two of the station’s hull structures. Soon I was tucked away safely within the Relic’s shields.
Black Sun (Phantom Server: Book #3) Page 5
