I didn’t reply. Instead, I tried to activate Friendly Contact in an attempt to control one of the harpies. It failed. Friendly Contact was supposed to have worked! But somehow it hadn’t.
“Zander, what the hell is going on?”
“The mobs have evolved! They’re blocking the control code I sent them!”
“I told you!” he snapped. “Harpies are based on an AI prototype!”
Sending them the control codes had been too careless of me. That’s exactly how the Outlaws had lost control of Avatroid. I should have thought about that!
Shooting back, the Reapers retreated toward the elevator. They were too calculating to fight to the last man!
The five harpies drew near them, forcing their way into a narrow gap between two massive concrete glass structures. Their heavy wings flapped, raising clouds of white dust. Threads of electric charges crackled between their claws. The rapid increase in nanites had led to their developing new abilities!
“Dominic, I want you to stand close to me.”
The world faded into a distance. My mind expander reached its peak processing speed.
I focused on nanite control, taking the creatures’ steely wings into my grid sights.
I attacked with several Disintegrations in a rapid sequence. A series of blinding flashes obscured the sun. The nearest structures cast sharp deep shadows. The figures of the Reapers burst into fountains of molten steel. With a thunderous roar, the top part of the elevator shaft collapsed on itself. A web of deep cracks ran across the concrete glass.
The towers shuddered with the shock wave, dropping fragments of their façades.
My Active Shield ability kicked in. Flames flowed around us without touching.
You have used 784,578 nanites.
Your actions have had a destructive effect on a habitable planet’s environment.
Your Colonizer status has been temporarily blocked.
Warning! The Colonizers Council may decide to lower your Mnemotechnics Skill 10 pt.
For your information. The Colonizers Council isn’t available. The investigation and judgment of your case is not possible.
Your status has been restored.
The smoke of hundreds of fires obscured the panorama of the technopark.
Dominic and I stood amid the ruins of the installation at the very center of a fire-ringed circle that marked the boundaries of the Active Shield that had saved our lives.
The part of the road leading to the gravity elevator was no more. The enormous airlock gate had been deformed. Its supports had crumbled into shapeless chunks of concrete glass.
For no apparent reason, Dominic felt his helmet with his hands. He cast me a glance and turned away. A gust of wind blew the plumes of smoke aside, revealing the jagged outline of dozens of towers sporting collapsed upper stories.
I knew he was thinking I’d failed to keep my skills under control. He wasn’t right though.
In outer space it had been different. Ditto for space stations. Even when I’d had to attack Phantom Raiders, I still hadn’t had to utilize the same quantities of nanites, throwing them into the furnace of Disintegration. There it had been enough to burn through a small area of the ship’s hull, end of story. The ship’s equipment would immediately begin to fail, completing the damage.
Another deafening roar sent clouds of white dust into the air.
The massive airlock gate finally parted from its deformed frame, thudding to the ground.
* * *
Gradually the dust had settled. A dull red light seeped from inside the bunker. I could hear the far-off rumble of a rockfall.
I could scan traces of cargonite everywhere. The bulk of the precious substance had been lost to us but we had to try and collect what we could still salvage.
I activated Self-Replication (the ability I’d received at the same time as Colonizer). Soon a vague haze of newborn nanites enveloped me. A new indicator appeared in my interface: a shimmering bar which kept growing, the digits next to it showing the increasing number of nanites under my control.
“Shall we go now?” Dominic shuffled his feet, casting occasional glances into the darkly crimson depths of the elevator.
“Wait a sec. If you have something to say to me, you’d better do it now.”
He cracked a nervous smile. “Zander, I understand we couldn’t have destroyed the harpies any other way. They were made of nanites, weren’t they? You couldn’t have done it any other way. But I’m afraid it might not work down in the bunker. Do you have anything less spectacular?”
“Against the Reapers? I don’t think so. They’re immune to both System Failure and Critical Damage. The best thing I can do is Plasma Blast.”
“Then we have problems. We can’t just scorch everything in sight down there. The place is packed with unique equipment. We need to save it.”
“Save it for whom?”
“How about those who’re stuck in the virtual world?”
“Okay. Let’s have a think. Are there any labs anywhere near that used to study nanite control codes?”
He gave a confident nod. “Yes.”
“Change of plans, then. We need to check them first.”
“What exactly do you expect to find? From what I heard, there’re lots of codes. The problem is, most of them are fragmented.”
“Then we need to see, don’t we?” I said. “Show me the way!”
* * *
Everything was bathed in a dull crimson light. We walked up and down some tunnels, wide and deserted. The walls on both sides of us were lined with dozens of closed armored doors that led to all sorts of science and research centers. Our advance was occasionally hindered by emergency bulkheads. Those we had to bypass using a cramped system of service tunnels.
“It’s here,” Dominic checked against a scheme and opened one of the hatches.
We climbed down a vertical well to the level below and secreted ourselves amid the bundles of cables, listening.
An intense hum kept growing stronger, then weakening again as if someone in the room below was playing with a switch of a giant electric transformer.
I cast Dominic a quizzical glance. He shrugged. “No idea,” he mouthed.
Warily he opened the hatch a crack. A narrow strip of light cut through the gloom of the utility lines.
I touched his shoulder. “Wait.”
Earlier, we’d agreed only to use nanites as a last option. Dominic had warned me that most research equipment was fitted with sensors which raised the alarm whenever they detected any stray nanites. Such precautions were perfectly understandable, considering the kinds of technologies they had studied here.
I read the equipment’s signatures, trying to locate the alarm.
I found it. It was disabled: by the Reapers apparently, which was only logical.
So what was that hum down there?
The room was large, separated into several work zones by translucent floor-to-ceiling screens. Processor columns crowded its center. The room’s perimeter was lined with the square chassis of neurocomputers.
Directly below us in the room the floor was raised, forming a pulpit-like platform. It was connected to a multitude of cables and pipelines that ran under the flooring.
I continued scanning, engaging some nanites to help me with the data harvesting.
“The Reapers,” Dominic mouthed.
“Quiet. I can see them.”
Ten security guards in full military space uniforms paced the equipment-free area holding the already-familiar pulse submachine guns. I focused on their matrices. Those were Reapers, no doubt about it.
My mind expander outlined their weapons in red as factory-made. The rest of them were nanites, armor suits included.
Here too the odds weren’t in our favor.
I selected them as targets, allowing my mind expander to monitor them.
The enormous screens were filled with first-person views of various virtual worlds. Each picture contained additional information: the
place’s coordinates, its correlation with location maps, and the distance to certain objects marked with unknown symbols.
“Dominic? What are those signs?”
“These are our bases in the Crystal Sphere,” he replied. “They’d been created before we started testing neuroimplants.”
And I’d thought I knew the Crystal Sphere inside out! “Are they still holding?”
“Destroyed. But not all of them are marked down here. There’s still hope they failed to locate a few.”
The hum returned. More monitors lit up. The configuration of indicator lights on both the processor columns and the neurocomp boxes changed.
“Attention all personnel for an incoming arrival,” said a cybernetic voice.
The power consumption soared. Data flooded the channels.
“Coordinates confirmed. Now commencing hyperspace jump.”
The dome of a power shield unfolded over the platform at the center. The familiar dull green mist filled its interior, forming a human outline.
Invisible vents ejected a cloud of nanites which mixed with the mist.
The hum died away, replaced by the hiss of compressed air.
“Materialization successful,” the cybernetic voice reported. “Reverse in ten seconds. Dematerialization. Aborted. Security protocol failure. Multiple identity matrices transportation impossible. The experiment cannot be continued.”
None of the guards seemed to be interested in what was happening. They paid no heed to the system messages. The power shield collapsed, leaving behind a perfectly normal-looking man made entirely of nanites.
His clothes surged with interference, then stabilized. The stranger turned and headed for the exit.
The servodrives of an airlock thudded, unsealing the hatch. Its armored shutters parted, letting the newly-arrived Reaper out into the corridor.
* * *
“I had no knowledge of these experiments, I swear,” Dominic managed.
The machinery kicked back in, reopening the hatch. Two Reapers rolled in a trolley equipped with a built-in antigrav. The trolley was loaded with a neat pile of broken armor and pieces of equipment.
Cargonite.
A deep bay opened in the floor. Two Reapers began to unload the platform, placing the pieces of the alien ship into the converter.
The doors of an elevator slid open with a melodious jingle. A warrior walked out, clad in top-level armor. I used to know the artisan who made it; actually, I used to wear a very similar set of gear once, famous for its excellent characteristic-boosting stats.
“Wait up,” his dull voice ordered.
I couldn’t see his face behind the richly decorated helmet. The scanning results brought more bad news. This one too was made of nanites.
He touched a few sensors, entering a command sequence, then stepped onto the platform. The power shield activated again.
“Attention all personnel. The object is about to be dematerialized,” the level cybernetic voice said. “Reception of neuromatrix transfer coordinates acknowledged.”
“Watch the screen,” Dominic whispered.
One of the 3D monitors blinked but showed nothing.
A flash consumed the insides of the shield dome. Wisps of the dull green mist shot up, then dissolved into the air.
150,000 active nanites detected.
The Reaper disappeared. The remaining nanites were sucked into the same microscopic vents. The green monitor screen rippled with interference. The picture of a carved stone arch filled the screen. I recognized its chiseled patterns. Behind it, a crooked pole fence listed to one side. I could make out the corner of a log cabin complete with a cat sleeping on the porch.
This was one of the Crystal Sphere’s standard-issue respawn points. There were hundreds of them over there.
“Have you been to these labs before?” I asked.
“Absolutely not,” Dominic seemed to be equally shaken by what we’d just seen. “I’ve got nothing to do with this place whatsoever. But I did hear something about Sector 14 experimenting with nanite codes,” he tried to explain his choice of itinerary.
“Okay. Give me another couple of minutes,” I continued studying the mysterious lab.
Now I could understand how Reapers had crossed over into the real world. But what was their business in the military space bunker? Why did they keep sneaking in and out of cyberspace?
As I pondered over this, my mind expander had created a detailed scanning file.
I honestly expected both my Technologist and Alien Technologies levels to soar. No such luck. I’d received a bare minimum of XP.
Did that mean I’d already come across this device in the past?
I ran a search of all my databases and promptly received my answer. The respawn points at the Founders’ stations had almost identical signatures.
In the meantime, the Reapers had unloaded the cargonite they’d brought in and set off to get the next load.
Dominic touched my shoulder, attracting my attention.
“Yes?”
“We need to go,” he said. “There’s nothing for us here.”
“Then what do you want us to do? Keep wandering about all these service corridors?”
“We can’t take on ten of the enemy,” he wisely assessed our situation.
“You really think that the communications station or the in-mode room are less protected?”
“I suggest we try the Alien Technologies sector,” he said. “I have a funny feeling that’s where they used to make the special-purpose ammo,” he cut himself short as the power shield sprang back to life.
“Attention all personnel for an incoming arrival,” the calm cybernetic voice sent inexplicable shivers down my spine.
This time not one but two Reapers appeared under the dome shield. How could I forget their armor — or the battle by the frozen lake.
In an eruption of green mist, lights began to flicker because of the peak power consumption.
Nanite control code intercepted: Object Replication, level 20.
In a hiss of compressed air, the two Reapers began to materialize slowly and laboriously. Apparently this time the process didn’t go as smoothly. I focused on them, reading their fading name tags, then activated penetrative scanning at the risk of exposing myself. Luckily, they didn’t seem to be in possession of Mnemotechnics. Good.
In which case, who or what had activated Object Replication and for what purpose?
The green mist filling the power shield began to disperse. The two Reapers were carrying some semblance of a two-handed trunk similar to neurocomp modules. Building it had taken over 300,000 nanites which had formed permanent links and couldn’t be reused.
What was inside it, then?
My implants-enhanced vision struggled to pierce the protective covering.
Neurograms!
A few scraps of other people’s mental images singed my mind, even though the memories themselves weren’t traumatic. Judging by the plethora of complex machinery inhibiting them, I was looking at the inside of research labs.
That was the extent of it.
I just couldn’t get it. What was the point? Who were those people and why were the fragments of their identities so important? Why were they brought back to the real world, wasting precious and hopefully non-renewable resources?
“Connect it over there,” a stifled voice said.
Two guards picked up the box and placed it on top of a stack of identical ones.
“Testing.”
The Reapers didn’t waste time. Indicator lights glowed behind the box’s dark housing. New monitors lit up, showing some schemes and diagrams.
“Not enough,” the other arrival said. “He won’t make the next skill level.”
“Shame. We’ll have to go back and search for more.”
* * *
Help... me...
Filled with inhuman suffering, the barely audible whisper cut me to the quick.
Help...
“What’s going on?” Do
minic cast anxious glances around.
He kept refusing to use mnemonic communications on the pretext that the Reapers could tap into the unique frequencies. Well, well. He definitely had something to hide. His neuroimplant only worked in reception mode: all transmission was blocked.
“Did you hear it too?”
He nodded. “This is the emergency mnemonic frequency.”
“Were any of the military space personnel in possession of Mnemotechnics?”
“A few, yeah. But their advance was negligible. Level 2 or 3 at the most.”
“Did they work in the virtual testing grounds? Were they involved in the Hybrid project? Did they have anything to do with the Oasis update?”
He gave a reluctant nod. “We’re not going anywhere, are we?” he peered into my eyes.
“Not yet. I need to understand what’s going on. If you have something to tell me, now is the best time to do it.”
“Zander, I didn’t work here! I’ve no idea where this voice in my head has come from! It might be a mind expander glitch! You’d better tell me what these creatures want. I thought they were just some dumb NPCs with a craving for neurograms. But it’s much worse than that, isn’t it? Are they trying to build another hybrid?”
“They’re trying to finish what you started!” I snapped. “They’re building a special-purpose computer. They want to make a machine with mnemotechnical abilities.”
“A machine cannot control nanites!”
“Oh yes it can!” I remembered the alien shipyard and the drones busy restoring the ship’s hull using Object Replication.
“There must be somebody controlling them! They’re only NPCs! They can’t have evolved so rapidly!”
“Some of them could have done. The neurograms they’ve consumed are not only emotions. They’re also knowledge,” I repeated what Jurgen had told me. “The problem is, the Reapers weren't the first. Do you know what this is?” I highlighted a section of equipment.
“No idea! This has nothing to do with my job description!”
“This is a respawn point! And it’s identical to those on the Founders’ stations. The funny thing is, it has some neurocomps connected to it. Now I wonder what could be inside them?”
Black Sun (Phantom Server: Book #3) Page 19
