Cold War Rune: A Virtual Reality novel (Rune Universe Book 2)

by Hugo Huesca

  “I heard something,” Irene said. “In-game. Drones are moving…”

  And then I was back into darkness. Whatever Rylena had heard was too far away to get my attention. But I almost screamed in surprise when my barrel suddenly shifted. I fell against my neck and chest with my legs sprawled on top of me, and then my body was suddenly weightless and my back bounced against the walls of the opposite side. Then back again. And again.

  I was being rolled in zero-g and for the life of me I had no idea what was going on outside. It wasn’t like in the movies or books where a perceptive character can figure out where they’re taking him by analyzing and remembering the movement. For all I knew, I was currently drifting through open space.

  Hell, if I’d caught saboteurs in my ship, that’s what I’d have done. It would have been fun.

  So that’s what they mean about a guilty conscience, I thought as I drifted aimlessly.

  The confusing feeling didn’t last long, though. The barrel stopped moving and I eventually managed to stop myself from bouncing around by pressing my arms and legs firmly against the barrel’s walls.

  I opened communications again with my team and caught up to an ongoing discussion:

  “—almost rolled out, a very close call—”

  “—if gravity’s back again, we’ll—”

  The ship’s jump was doubly unpleasant this time around. It was one of those long jumps that seemed to last forever—while someone grabs your stomach and shakes it.

  “Ugh, I think I’m gonna puke,” said Beard after reality returned to normal.

  “You can’t puke,” said Walpurgis. “Nordic didn’t bother with programming bodily functions, for obvious reasons, you chicken. Irene? When can we get out of these tuna cans?”

  “That depends,” Rylena said. “One more jump to reach the battleship, a couple minutes so it gets into position, then docking. By the way, here we go again…”

  Reality shifted once more and the sound of the antimatter engines roaring to life was drowned by our collective groan.

  “Now, if they scan the items too closely then we’re boned,” Rylena went on with a dryer voice. “But if they’re new to the game I doubt they even know about players pulling a Kipp.”

  “A Kipp?” asked Anders.

  “It’s the name of the move,” said Beard. “There’s still replays on the web. It grew popular back in the day, to the point players started gassing their cargo just to be safe.”

  “I think I remember it,” Mai chimed in. “’Wannabe pirate queen finds out her fortress is gone and loses her shit.’ It had a lot of cursing. Now that I think of it, Rylena looks—”

  “We’re docking, can you hear it?” Rylena cut in quickly. “Everyone go radio silent now, we can’t risk getting found out by some low-tech scanner.”

  Convenient. It was hard to remember this wasn’t a normal side-quest like the hundred we’d done in the past. We hadn’t run into any players yet, only dealt with basic security protocols. I knew it would change soon enough, but I was enjoying it while it lasted.

  Like Rylena predicted, the ship docked not long after. The feeling of sideways movement was unmistakable, and the machine-like precision was a dead giveaway. If this freighter had been the Teddy, gravity would’ve returned now, but since this supply ship was full of sensitive material it was safer to let zero-g continue unimpeded.

  This time I heard the voices of the freighter’s crew as they walked to the airlock and got ready to disembark. Players.

  Unlike with NPCs, we couldn’t simply shoot them quietly if they found us. They’d respawn and sound the alarm.

  Our only chance was to remain hidden until we were ready to raise hell with the explosives.

  The airlock opened and closed several times with pneumatic sighs. Then we heard the distinct electrical buzzing of a lot of drones being dropped inside.

  “I think I can get their software to ignore us,” Irene told me in the real world. “But I’d need Francis to go toe-to-toe with the battleship computer if we’re detected.”

  “Then lets not get found out.”

  She nodded and after a bit, said:

  “Done. We can head out now.”

  We told the others over the comms.

  “Can’t we wait until we’re inside?” asked Anders as we came out of the barrels. “We could sidestep half their defenses.”

  “No way to know if they scan the cargo at some point,” Rylena said. “We’d just be waiting around defenseless.”

  The drones passed around me at knee height, buzzing happily with fake vitality. I resisted the urge to kick them away.

  “I’ve little patience for Sneaking nowadays. Let’s hurry on to the blowing stuff up part,” said Walpurgis. “The cargo doors are still closed, how are we going to get out?”

  “Easy,” I told her. “We capture some drones and a couple of us wear them as helmets. They pretend they captured the rest and we go rescue the princess.”

  No one laughed. Perhaps Beard smiled a little, but it was mostly in pity. “Jeez. Tough crowd.”

  We quickly fished our weaponry out of the remaining barrels while the drones took inventory of the cargo. The thin red-laser curtains that passed very closely to us made everyone nervous. Technically, we were invisible to them. But you never knew you failed a skill-check until it was too late.

  “Through the airlock,” said Rylena. “Quick, before the cargo doors open and we’re exposed to anyone outside.”

  We cluttered around the metal hatch while Mai used her scouting build to search out any human being standing outside. To speed up the process, Rylena activated her own personal drone, a flying ball named 401. The drone buzzed with energy and smacked lightly against my shoulder as a greeting, then went on to scan the airlock with its radar.

  We didn’t need to wait long. A pair of faint, metallic shadows appeared in my visor. Human-shapes, a dozen feet to the right of the airlock.

  “Two players,” Mai said. “They’re just standing there with nothing to do. Perhaps they’re the freighter’s crew, or Sleipnir is wasteful enough to use players as guards.”

  Players are terrible minions. They’ll go to the bathroom, get bored, turn on some porn, go make a sandwich, walk their dogs, whatever. Unlike NPCs, there was just no way they took their own lives as seriously when they could simply respawn. Even if Sleipnir was paying or threatening them, attention had its limits. Most Alliances preferred to use androids and drones and a couple Battleminds blanket-covering their ships against intrusion.

  “Got it,” said Rylena. She scratched her metal-clad chin. “OK. Cole, we need them to get out of here. With your IFG, you’re our best bet—”

  “I’m your best bet with that thing,” said Mai.

  “Let the woman speak, you,” said Walpurgis.

  “Mai, we need you to scout ahead of us or we’ll end up running into some asshole,” Rylena went on with a grateful nod to Walpurgis. “Cole will go in another direction, distract them while invisible, and return to us.”

  Mai looked at me doubtfully. “There’s security measures that can detect you while invisible.”

  “It’s not my first rodeo,” I told her while grasping the IFG I had installed in my suit’s belt. “The other day I strolled in and out of the PDF secret ice base without any trouble.”

  Mai rolled her eyes. “Sure, Cole, sure. If we’re done with the jokes, I propose we get moving. No telling when the rest of the crew will come back.”

  I’ll let that one pass for now. Mai had a point. We had to move on.

  “He’ll take 401, it’ll help him avoid any threat.”

  I was left standing in front of the airlock while everyone else went back to hiding inside the placid darkness of the cargo hold. I stood in front of the hatch, waiting for Rylena’s signal.

  401 magnetized itself against my forehead like some bizarre miner’s lamp. This way, it could share the invisibility field, though its radar would be useless.

  One of the freighter’
s drones wheeled itself towards us calmly. It was the signal. I waited until it reached the airlock and then I switched on the IFG.

  My vision blurred a bit, kind of like watching water running through glass. My arms and legs were almost completely invisible, but there was a faint outline.

  If someone had a high Perception, they’d be able to see the outline. If his Perception was too low, he’d see nothing and would have to rely on sound or other tricks to find me out.

  The airlock opened as my shield’s bar lost 1% from its meter and the drone propelled its magnetized tracks forward.

  I had to be very precise now. The gravity was off, but I couldn’t use my jetpack or my oxygen streams. Those weren’t invisible and would be a dead giveaway. Instead, I de-magnetized my boots as soon as the airlock opened and floated up.

  I passed the drone as it left the ship, one second before the airlock closed behind us. I timed it perfectly, so the automatic process didn’t last any longer than usual for a single drone exiting.

  The freighter was docking to the battleship broadside through a portable cylinder big enough to move a fighter through. It was made of several plasteel plaques and when it wasn’t in use it was stored in the armor of the battleship. It extended itself for several hundred feet to avoid any accidental collisions between ships. A metallic bridge extended below us to give the drones and players a floor they could magnetize to, but I wasn’t going to use it.

  The players were at the end of the docking platform and took a curious look at the drone. They wore ballistic armor similar to Derry’s avatar, and I knew I was completely invisible to them. My hands reached the roof of the docking platform and I let my elbows bend slowly to avoid bouncing against the plasteel. To make sure I could control my movements without making noise, I magnetized my fingertips.

  I was now upside-down on the ceiling, glued to it by my fingers. Like that holo-vid superhero Hollywood was rebooting again.

  As the drone advanced I left it behind using the lack of gravity to sort of swim forwards keeping my fingers close to the curved ceiling at all times. The platform came to an abrupt end not long afterward and I reached the metallic ceiling of the battleship—the Firebrand—with a soft kick to propel me upwards.

  The players were standing on each side of the battleship’s own airlock (non-functional), perfectly still like a holographic image. A chill spread down my spine. In my entire time as a player, not even the PDF’s soldiers needed that kind of discipline.

  The one to the right was the first to react to the drone.

  “What’s wrong with this one?” his voice came through on my visor with perfect clarity. They were talking on an open channel—which would be a giant no-no with any veteran, but wasn’t uncommon in new players.

  Guard number two shook his head. “No idea. It’s empty-handed, though.”

  “I think we have to check its log thing. You remember how?” They spoke like normal people, not like static guards. And yet, so had Lisa while she dragged me towards Keles.

  “Yes, that’s right. Let’s see…” Guard 2 held a finger in front of the drone. “It says it needs maintenance. That’s not our problem.”

  “Good.”

  The drone continued its path towards who-knew-where and took a left, in the direction Rylena and the others were supposed to go after my distraction.

  I floated over the guards feeling at the same time like a ghost and a ninja. With another soft push I swam down the bare-boned corridor toward the nearest corner. I had to be very precise with the amount of force I used; anything more and I’d either lose valuable time adjusting my path or make some noise avoiding a collision.

  401 and I reached the corner and the guards were out of sight. No one else was nearby. Jenkins’ data assured us that most of their defenses were by the entrails of the battleship. The spot where they worked on the alien software.

  I turned my IFG off for a couple seconds to let my shields recharge after verifying the lack of cameras in the corridor.

  Okay, let’s make some noise. I pushed against the ceiling and smacked my fist hard against the floor. I realized I was an idiot when no sound was registered.

  Of course. No gravity. No internal atmosphere.

  Firebrand was down to the very basics: A huge amount of guns welded to a metal frame with a science facility stashed inside.

  “Don’t tell Rylena about this, 401,” I whispered to the drone through our comm-link.

  No sound to distract them. Well then, next best option was to break something. I ran a quick check to the metal sheets that covered the walls. One of them had a hand-sized ridge for a technician’s hand, so I ripped it apart with a servo-assisted pull. The metal bent and twisted in total silence and a bunch of tiny screws broke out and banged against the walls and floor like mute bullets. A river of cables and important-looking pipes and mechanisms was revealed running through the wall.

  “Beard,” I opened a link to my engineer friend. “Turns out there’s still no sound in space. Anything I can break here that will get their attention without triggering a sabotage alarm?”

  I showed a video-feed of the cables and pipes.

  “The pipes are from internal atmosphere controls, so they’re turned down,” said Beard. “Wait, the tiny one is for coolant. Space coolant is very corrosive, it can explode if not installed right. And it requires immediate attention.”

  “Done.” Neon green droplets of a viscous substance splatted out of the broken pipe like a surreal depiction of a hemorrhage. The coolant had a lot of pressure so it erupted like a mountain at first. Then the internal mechanisms detected the leak and closed the valves.

  I was covered in the stuff. I realized I had only a few seconds left before the guards came to check the leak and walked in to a human-shaped green streak floating in the middle of the corridor.

  With a hurried push I launched myself towards the other end of the corridor while paying close attention to the open channel.

  “You see that?” one of the guards asked. “What the hell is that shit—”

  “No idea, but I’m sure as hell not letting Keles think it was our fault. Let’s take a look.”

  “Like, how do you start recording in this brainjack thing? To show them it just started spewing out—”

  “Those lazy maintenance assholes—”

  “There’s so many buttons…”

  “What’re you doing? Don’t log out!”

  “… Sorry. Wrong button.”

  And so on. I reached the end of the corridor without any trouble, confirmed it was empty, and then used 401 to look around the corner we had just come from.

  “All clear,” I said on my team channel. “They’re off to your right.”

  “Copy.” I followed my team’s advance on Mai’s screen. She advanced at a fair pace, stopping every corner to listen and scan the area.

  I can’t return the same way, I thought. I saw them walk through bare-boned cabins that would someday become a barracks and an armory. Every hundred steps or so, Rylena stopped to place shaped charges at key points on the battleship’s surface.

  Normally, you couldn’t breach the thick armor alloy of any ship bigger than a starfighter using conventional explosives. But this one wasn’t fully built yet. There were weak points in the armor. And a structural breach caused much more damage than just blowing up a bunch of respawning soldiers so that was where our attack would be focused.

  With coolant splashing everywhere, I ceiling-crawled through a small maintenance passageway, avoiding the clutter of tools, antennas, radiation counters, and exo-suits laying around in different states of disrepair. Sleipnir may be rich in the real world, but they weren’t against buying second-hand items.

  I rendezvoused with my team five minutes later, catching up with them as they placed a set of explosives in a vacuum-exposed part of the ship. Thanks to Mai, avoiding the patrols was almost an easy feat.

  So far, we hadn’t run into or come close to any high-leveled player, only a lot of new
bies and a couple mid-geared men and women decked in plasma-resistant plasteel. The team was discussing this right as I caught up.

  “They don’t seem to be very well-trained,” said Walpurgis. “Bet we can take them all.”

  “Too many of them,” said Anders. “It worries me they have so many people. Are they on a payroll or something?”

  “If they were, the FBI would’ve realized it a long time ago,” Rylena pointed out. “Something weird is going on with their recruitment, but frankly that’s not our problem right now.”

  “Correct,” said Mai. “Our problem is that Cole looks like the low-budget version of The Blob.”

  I had lost much of the coolant in the way, but I was still a flying smear of green mucus.

  “I’ll stay at the back,” I said.

  “That’s not the problem,” she said. “You’re leaving a trail. Anyone could follow it.”

  “Better reason to hurry,” said Rylena. “We’ll have to start swinging at some point.”

  “Just make sure it’s on our terms.”

  We pushed on with an added sense of urgency. The more we worked our way into the ship’s interior, the more our surroundings became high-tech and better secured.

  Our speed was much lower, too. Patrols weren’t as common, but other players were walking hurriedly everywhere, now. Scientists, software developers, managers, chiefs of whatever, high-end executives. Mai caught sight of an end-game guy around our closest route and we had to backtrack just to avoid testing the player’s Perception.

  Also, we had to stop periodically to let Rylena hack us into updated security protocols. Automatic doors and operational turrets became more and more common. Cameras, too, and those took even more time to trick.

  Mai was right. We were running out of time.

  In the end, it wasn’t the turrets, or cameras, or power-armored players that discovered us.

  We were floating our way down a corroded maintenance shaft under the floor, when a bunch of clutter and trash spewed out of the life-support machines in the ceiling to reveal a humanoid shape. It was an engineer clad in an exo-suit, fighting with a mechanism big enough to be your mother. He stopped, paralyzed with surprise when he saw us standing in front of him carrying enough weapons to take over a small country.