Black Sun (Phantom Server: Book #3)

by Andrei Livadny

  My clothes and my hands began to surge with bluish light. My mind expander sprang to life, then disconnected again. The surrounding air exploded in a multitude of object signatures which faded almost straight away.

  Foggs wheezed, stirring. “It hurts,” a groan escaped his chapped lips.

  I was shuddering. My left arm became transparent, flickered, then disappeared. My left sleeve hung empty. The elements of gear connected to it clattered onto the road.

  “Zander... your face!” Foggs’ eyes filled with fear.

  Three translucent figures materialized nearby, floating in the air. They resembled ghosts after being attacked by an apprentice wizard who’d failed to summon them properly.

  “Reapers!” Kimberly made a dash to help us but couldn’t move.

  I pulled Foggs to his feet. “Can you walk? Turn back, now!”

  “And you?” his insane stare searched for his weapons but found none. His unique swords were gone. His clothes and gear kept fading.

  The invisible line dividing the two realities seemed to be here somewhere. Yes, I know it sounds crazy but the Founders’ technologies could make cyberspace interact with the real world!

  This was my chance. The warped cyberspace of the testing grounds had offered us no exit into reality. We could travel them forever with zero results. But my Darg mission was living proof of our identity matrices being able to engage with the real world.

  All I had to do was overcome my fear. I had to try.

  “Zander, where’re you going?”

  “I just want to take a look what’s there. I’ll be right back.”

  “That’s crazy! You’re gonna die!”

  “Get back now!” I shouted.

  Mechanically, Foggs obeyed the order and staggered back. His outline rippled as if he’d crossed an invisible barrier.

  I did exactly the opposite and ran down the slope. The “ghosts” hovering nearby seemed to be very happy with my unwise behavior. They came for me.

  The descent became a struggle.

  If I’d been wrong, it would have been the end of me.

  My legs gave under me. I dropped, rolling to a halt down the slope. My body slackened. I couldn’t use a single muscle.

  Familiar icons glowed in my mental view. This was my interface coming back on! Jurgen had been right! The city wasn’t a setting. I had just crossed into the real world!

  The Founders’ navigator flared up and disintegrated, its particles forming the vague outline of my own body.

  You have left a cyberspace incompatible with your interface.

  Your identity matrix is stabilized.

  Your combat ability The Call has been activated.

  The Call worked like a dream, pulverizing the three ghostly figures into a shapeless cloud.

  You have received 70986 nanites.

  Your neuroimplant version is out of date. Conditions for new ability activation met.

  A mind expander malfunction has been detected. Now attempting to rectify the problem.

  Warning! You don’t have enough nanites to replicate your human form.

  New function activated: Interaction with Environment.

  You have arrived at the planet: [ ... ]

  Navigation error. No data received.

  Now scanning the area for available source material to commence replication. No source material found.

  New ability received: Pioneer.

  Level: 1

  In order to advance to Level 2, you need to visit a new yet unexplored planet.

  New ability received: Interaction.

  Your integration into the planet’s environment is currently minimal. In order to improve it, you need to increase the number of nanites.

  Reality — naked and at its ugliest — fell upon me like a ton of bricks.

  My hand felt the rough surface of cellular concrete. The jagged stump of a multi-level highway junction was listing, barely supported by two leaning trestles.

  The ruins of a building rose over the cliffs’ precipitous outline. Its façade had crumbled but the framework had survived. Indicator lights glowed within the darkness of some of the rooms: apparently, some of the equipment was still working.

  Charon, Kimberly, Arbido, Foggs and Jurgen — they were all gone. All I could see overhead were fat bundles of optic cables swaying in the wind.

  Here it was, the border between two realities! My friends had stayed in the virtual world — they were all still there, inside the fraying lengths of optic fiber. They had no nanites available which meant they couldn’t cross.

  Once again sickness overcame me. Reality blurred. Still, I knew this was only temporary. I’d have to reconsider lots of things. This glitch in my perception had nothing to do with any old ideas about health.

  What I felt was stunning. The nanites weren’t dense enough and I could literally sense the morning breeze blow right through me. Now I knew how Liori must have felt when she hadn’t had enough nanites for a complete materialization.

  My heart was pounding. These authenticity levels were way too high for me.

  Unable to help myself, I reached out to touch the cellular concrete of the parapet. It was rough — cold and damp. Touching it almost gave me an electric shock.

  I was back on Earth. The realism of my experience was mind-blowing.

  By then, the diagnostics of my mind expander was complete. The cyber modules of my mind worked at barely one-third of their potential. Until I laid my hands on more nanites, I’d have to make do with using the good old five senses.

  Gradually I stopped shivering.

  I took my bearings.

  What I’d taken for a “mountain range” was in fact a man-made skyline. The silhouette that I’d mistaken for jagged cliff ledges in the mist were pyramids of tiered skyscrapers.

  A holographic road sign blinked nearby, its 3D surface rippling and expiring, then turning back on. I struggled to make out the letters,

  Infosystems Corporation. Mont Blanc Service Facility

  The arrow was pointing down to the right.

  Dawn was breaking, a new day justifying its presence. The skyscrapers were enveloped in sheets of fog which drifted past, avoiding the recreation zone to my left below: it must have had some artificial climate device installed. I could use this location as a reference point. Jurgen had recognized it, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he said that his and Frieda’s in-modes were somewhere nearby?

  The road spiraled smoothly downward. My bare face was exposed to a light drizzle. I had no weapons. Every little sound made me jump.

  My nerves were not good. I bent down and picked up a piece of construction steel. The nanites reacted by regrouping to reinforce my hand. Strangely enough, the sheer weight of this useless piece of steel added a touch of confidence. I know it sounds stupid but that’s the way it was.

  The spiraling road joined an elevated highway. The roofs of the skyscrapers served as parking lots, connected to the road by short exits guarded by security checkpoints.

  I gulped chestfuls of mountain air, cold and slightly rarefied, emission-free. All my danger indicators sat snugly in the green.

  The sun was rising over the Corporation’s domain. Diffused by the buildings, its light illuminated the fine web of multi-level highways below. Not a stir anywhere. The world froze in a crystal-clear silence.

  The crimson disk of the sun sported dark diamond-shaped spots.

  I didn’t think much of it. I gathered it must have been some of the technopark installations obstructing the view.

  The mist began to fade. The nearest parking lot was crowded with the latest models of luxury flybots. The digital disaster must have struck at the height of the working day.

  Further on, I could see a cluster of gravity elevators. They were exactly what I needed.

  My plan was simple: I wanted to penetrate the building and find the lab where they’d experimented with nanites. In order to replicate them, I needed suitable source material.

  I scrambled past row after row o
f parked cars. The wind screeched over a loose sheet of steel. The taut cables supporting some sort of latticework tower were vibrating, emitting a low-frequency hum. Not a soul in sight.

  Just when I thought about it, I noticed a group of dark specks in the sky, quickly approaching from the west: winged creatures looking suspiciously like harpies.

  Where the hell had they come from?

  You can’t surprise a player of my experience with a mythical beast, and still my blood ran cold. Realities had merged completely! Our skies were circled by monsters we’d built using alien technologies!

  One of the harpies noticed me and banked, coming for me. I’d barely had time to dive under a car when the monster’s claws screeched against its bodywork, tearing it apart.

  Squawking indignantly, the harpy soared upward, preparing to strike at me again. I’d dropped my piece of steel. A film of cold sweat clung to my body. Who was I afraid of? These were ordinary mobs! And — they were an excellent source of nanites. I was pretty sure the Call should work against them.

  A burst of a submachine gun rattled nearby. I heard the sound of something heavy plopping to the ground.

  I crawled from under the car and darted for the nearest cover. The flock of harpies was panicking, trying to escape. One of them lay dead about fifty feet from me. Its body rippled with interference, its claws still scraping on the concrete. Its sprawled wings were rapidly dematerializing.

  The mist was fading away, dissipating into the finest haze. The visibility had improved dramatically. I could now see seven people stealing past the rows of cars. They were armed with stub-barreled pulse guns. I didn’t recognize the make. The combat visors of their battle helmets concealed their faces. Their clothes were threadbare, their gear tired and covered in dark brown spots which looked suspiciously like caked blood.

  Survivors?

  37,549 nanites detected. Status: deactivated, inoperative. For immediate re-use, enter reload code.

  By then, the silhouette of the downed harpy had faded into nothing, leaving behind a small puddle of gray liquid on the damp roof. I lingered, wary of activating the Call for fear of attracting attention. I had no reason to trust Corporate staff.

  I watched them.

  The strangers acted in calm confidence. They didn’t look like researchers. Security, probably. How on earth had they managed to shoot down a nanite-generated harpy with a regular pulse gun?

  “Keep looking!” a voice said nearby. “Keep looking.”

  One of the men stopped by the puddle of gray liquid and doused it with a spray can. The liquid foamed. The man unclasped a small cylindrical container from his belt and began collecting the foam into it, then screwed the lid tightly back on.

  He'd taken the remaining nanites. What a shame.

  “Sector scanning completed. No targets detected,” the fear and confusion in his voice were palpable.

  “Same here,” another voice reported calmly, as if the speaker was past caring.

  Another burst of gunfire rattled through the air.

  “Don’t waste your ammo!” the group leader snapped at the man for firing blindly.

  I didn’t like their aggressive attitude. The men were apparently busy mopping up the area. They would shoot anyone on sight. I might not even get the chance to explain myself to them.

  Nanites were my flesh and blood, and right at the moment, I simply didn’t have enough. My combat and defense ability icons were colored gray. In order to negotiate with them on equal terms, I needed more nanites.

  A single shot rang out in the silence.

  The bullet hit one of the men in the head, striking sparks from his combat helmet. If that wasn’t enough, his gear began to blur and fade, rapidly covering with interference. The man’s body began to melt into thin air.

  “Neeeeuuuro!” the already familiar blood-curdling shriek echoed from the surrounding walls. A shadow strobed behind the windows of a nearby building, followed by more bursts of automatic fire.

  So much for survivors! These were Reapers!

  “I found another one!”

  I barely had time to duck, shattered glass showering me from windowpanes above. They were firing at me now!

  You’ve lost 13,000 nanites.

  You’ve received a fragment of an unidentified control code.

  The lone sniper’s bullet rang out again, cutting the burst of automatic fire short. The fake “Corporation worker” waved his hands in the air before collapsing to his knees. A large round hole gaped in his chest, its fire-polished edges glowing red with heat. An incandescent haze slithered around it.

  The Call: activated

  It didn’t work! I darted off, weaving between the cars. Bullets chased me, thudding through the metal. The mysterious control code kept popping up with every near miss. I kept losing nanites and I couldn’t do anything about it!

  Now I knew exactly how the Reapers had shot the harpy down. Well, they weren’t stupid, that’s for sure. Their bullets must have had built-in transmitters.

  As a last resource, I activated Steel Mist. The number of the nanites stabilizing my neuromatrix dropped to critical. But at least the Reapers’ scanners couldn’t penetrate its fine veil.

  It looked like I’d lost them.

  I stopped to catch my breath. Mechanically I leaned my hand against a taut cable. My fingers went right through it. My hand smarted with a burning pain.

  Your perception levels cannot be decreased

  This system message definitely had something to do with that Pioneer ability. I had to look into it. Still, it would have to wait a little.

  The Reapers seemed to have given up on me. The firing stopped. There were five of them left. No idea what had happened to the mysterious lone sniper.

  * * *

  A wary, deceitful silence hung over the parking lot.

  I watched the enemy, trying to second-guess any future scenarios.

  The harpies circled the sky at a safe distance. None of them had ventured to approach the arena of the recent combat. How on earth had they escaped into the real world at all?

  In the meantime, the Reapers had split. Three of them stayed with the dead bodies. They were busy talking — apparently, not afraid of the mysterious sniper anymore. They must have believed him dead too. Two more headed towards the service vaults at the east side of the parking lot.

  They were back almost straight away, carrying a plasma torch.

  Now what would they need that for? I crept closer. I could just about make out the two misshapen human outlines of the defunct “Corporate workers” lying amid the deformed cars. Their gear had already melted and solidified in fancy patterns of purple-tinged metal.

  This was cargonite!

  No idea what kind of weapon the sniper had been using but it must have had something to do with alien technologies. No bullet in the world could provide the energy required to completely disintegrate nanites.

  None of the Reapers seemed to possess the Mnemotechnics skill. Good. I wasn’t going to risk losing my chance.

  “Can’t you cut any faster?” the leader’s voice rang with irritation. “I want all of it, every single crumb. Move it!”

  No one answered. His men were working hard, struggling to cut through the high-resistance metal, but they were too inexperienced and clumsy.

  Who were they? I kept thinking of them as Reapers but these couldn’t have been NPCs.

  What if these were some of the dead Corporation workers, their minds and their appearance preserved in nanites? Come to think of it, I had no idea of how the disaster had unfolded in the real world.

  They seemed to behave like human beings but this didn’t count anymore. They must have inherited their hosts’ identities together with their neurograms. The leader was confident — arrogant even. He was also quite careless, standing there in full view with his rifle slung behind his back. One of his men, however, kept casting wary glances around, constantly on his guard. The remaining three weren’t exactly all there. They didn’t seem
to know what they were doing, freezing deep in thought, then continuing to hack through the cargonite carelessly, at the risk of taking off their own fingers.

  My heart clenched with a momentary sympathy. Then I asked myself a legitimate question: where were the devices supporting their identity matrices?

  At the risk of exposing myself, I restructured the Steel Mist, thinning it out, and sent a small group of nanites to investigate.

  Five neuronet connections detected.

  The source of data is located outside the effective scanning range.

  Immediately the group leader sensed something. “Neeuuro?”

  There was nothing human left in his dull voice: it breathed cold and dread. These creatures were neither NPCs nor humans: they were of a third gender, a new life form that had sprouted out of the marriage of human and alien technologies. We really shouldn’t make a mistake in their respect.

  I attacked them with Replication. This nanite-making ability had saved my backside quite a few times in the past. Now too it lived up to its name.

  The air exploded in flashes of blinding light which rose in roaring pillars of fire. The plasma torches’ power units blew up. The blast overturned the nearest cars, some of them crashing down into the abyss separating the buildings. Others went up in flames. The newborn nanites streamed toward me, pouring into my fading body, activating the skills and breathing life into me.

  The Reapers may have survived the crushing blow but their weapons hadn’t. Not a single shot sounded in response to my attack.

  Dropping flakes of oxidized steel, four of them came for me, furious. Their appearance was awe-inspiring; their expressions made your blood run cold in your veins.

  I met one with a Plasma Blast. Then things didn’t go according to plan. My attackers recoiled, their bodies dissipating in a fine veil of nanites that enveloped their leader.

  His gaze was cold and emotionless, as if he was studying an insect. This wasn’t a common nanite hunter anymore. It seemed as if I’d just invited the attention of someone much bigger than this group leader.