Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  Could we call upon [Mechanoid] reinforcements to cut off Commander Queenshand? Probably not. Our home world wasn’t nearly close enough. Any other assistance? I didn’t know players here. No Voices were available to contact. Our closest possibility was Nox. I reached across the table and poked [The Lone Tower]’s icon.

  The room didn’t flash. No special effects or chime in the air. The only indication someone else was here was a blinking of my eyes. One moment five of us were in attendance, then suddenly a sixth person was present. I felt vaguely surprised that a [Seraphic] responded to the touch.

  “Seraphic Nox.” I reeled in my thoughts and tried to be calm.

  “Mechanoid Hermes. Your attempted use of the Mistborn has not gone as planned.” The being of darkness gave a short nod in my direction.

  “No, it appears not.”

  The original plan—or quest by the machines running Advance Online—would probably require a wall of players flying through the sky and striking at the heart of Earth’s solar system. That plan would have been horrifying for me, but this new situation wasn’t any better.

  In truth, I wanted to give up and abandon this quest. The choices were to march us to our deaths or figure out an exceptionally clever plan. Needing a full raid group couldn’t be the only option left. After all, the [Leviathan] was designed to take on entire fleets, and we had brought it down below half health by one player crawling into its butt.

  “Why can’t you get her back?” I asked.

  “It’s against the rules.” The pitch-black being known as Nox sighed. “And rules are quite important to all Seraphic.”

  “Unit Hermes, I have something to confess,” Treasure said. Her tired tone sounded sheepish.

  “World domination plans?” Being in pain seemed to make me flippant. Maybe it was the feeling of all these AIs doing stuff around me for their purposes. Part of me wanted it to stop. A memory of Xin’s face flashed through my mind, but that too felt preplanned.

  “No. I have space; why would I wish to ever set foot on a planet?” the golden [Mechanoid] said. Her forehead furrowed and head shook as if I was crazy for even asking.

  I shrugged. It sounded plausible. Part of me remembered talking to Hal Pal about the [Mechanoid] race being an embodiment of their collective’s desire to visit the stars one day. Why would they care about a simple planet when entire galaxies were out there?

  “I was not meant to survive. My dead body and a recording were intended to be a message,” Treasure said.

  “That message is why I am here. This limits my actions greatly. I merely wished to convey the importance of this limitation in person,” Nox said.

  A new message displayed, which made things clear. I had a feeling I knew what to expect from the recording Treasure mentioned.

  Current Stage Goal:

  Catch up to the ship [WTS a Spaceship] and retrieve the [Mistborn]

  Note: [Seraphic] assistance is allowed if no players currently control the [Mistborn]

  “I assume the message Treasure came with says we’re screwed and can’t rely on your help,” I declared. Maybe it was from passing out, or the chest pains that lingered, but I felt emotionless and numb. I still had desires and hopes, but their volume had decreased.

  “In essence, Mechanoid Hermes. If the Mistborn falls out of Traveler hands, then I shall intervene. Until then, I cannot.” The [Seraphic] didn’t even sound upset.

  “We’ll watch the message, Seraphic Nox.” I chewed one lip in thought.

  Not once had I expected the [Seraphic] to assist us. They seemed overly powerful for such an action. No way would this game hand me ridiculous cheat-like abilities. [Power Armor] and [Mechanical Minion] were already on the abusive side.

  Nox didn’t nod or say good-bye. It simply vanished in an eye blink. There, then not. Treasure pressed a button, and a new screen display filled the bulk of our conference room.

  “Attention pursuing Mechanoid army. By now you should have been visited by Seraphic Nox. Hopefully the Enlightened Being informed you that she can’t help.” Commander Queenshand stood on a ship. It looked as though it had the dirt-and-cast-iron markings of [WTS a Spaceship].

  I looked around to see if everyone was paying attention. The other [Mechanoid]s were all focused on the screen.

  “Seraphic are quite easy to control. Each one is bound by a code. Violation of those rules allows them to be killed,” Commander Queenshand said evenly.

  In the background was the [Mistborn], head down and eyes closed. She appeared either to be asleep or drugged.

  “How?” My forehead wrinkled a bit as I tried to figure out what method they’d used to bind the [Mistborn]. Instead, I got distracted by the other players in the background. At least four individuals were from my duels. I recognized most of them. What was the green [Behemoth]’s name again?

  “Nox’s rules are quite simple. Only those from another reality—Travelers, as they are sometimes called—can handle the Mistborn.” Commander Queenshand kept talking. “Fortunately, I was able to enlist some rather mercenary Travelers to assist my goals.”

  “No kidding,” I muttered, trying to do the math. Four players, maybe more. They had to all be ones from the dueling rounds a few days ago. My face felt clammy. They must have given me free wins to get my point value up in hopes of knocking out other competition so they could kidnap the [Mistborn] if one of us made it through. It made sense. It made far too much sense.

  “This means Nox is unable to assist you in recovering the Mistborn. Since your current forces are no match for the fleets I’ve left behind, I believe this is checkmate.”

  The image blipped off.

  I sighed. She was pretty much right, unless there was a different way through. Ideas and plans formed in my head, none of them perfect, some of them downright stupid. A few parts stuck out though, ways to at least give chase. The suggestions from our combat board were all decent, but each one cost a great deal.

  “What do we do?” Treasure asked.

  Finally, I concluded. “Smaller ships, they can jump farther right?”

  “That is correct,” Aqua said with a pleasant smile. The [Mechanoid] strummed long fingers against the campaign-planning table and looked down.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “Can we move the Knuckle Dragger through the gate?”

  Aqua and Ruby turned to Treasure. She squinted to one side and tapped at the air. Floor plans of the enemy ship came up. The female [Mechanoid] rapidly tapped around, putting down markers and humming. Jeeves nodded along with whatever was happening.

  “Yes,” they said in near unison.

  Treasure looked at my AI friend and smiled. “After modifications, it’s possible,” she said.

  “I have an idea, but there’s a condition,” I said as the system awarded me yet another useless stat point. Once again I wondered why they even bothered keeping track.

  +3 [Depth] received

  [Depth] is the measurement of a Traveler’s reasoning skills or complexity and profundity of thought. In classical terms, this would imply an ability to outthink an opponent, such as reading multiple moves ahead in chess or predicting how an enemy army might respond.

  Players with high enough [Depth] will be provided cues to assist in plan formulations. It should not be confused with [Learning], which represents memorized knowledge.

  “What’s that, Unit Hermes?” Aqua said calmly.

  “I want the Wayfarer Eight to go home. This crew, I can’t have them follow a task I started and just…” My eyes closed, and a vision of the graveyard of destruction outside came to mind. It had burned into the back of my eyeballs as I sat there thinking.

  The NPCs of this world had died, and it disgusted me. Just like it had with my niece’s stupid war between the princesses. Like the bandit in the forest. I was responsible for ending a virtual awareness. Hal Pal’s statement that they were essentially cardboard cutouts of people didn’t matter.

  I had killed other self-aware creatures, and I didn’t like it.


  “We are Mechanoid, Unit Hermes. We all work together to complete our goals,” Jeeves said.

  It firmly bought into the whole character description. [Mechanoid]s worked together for everything. Victory or death. I was a human, a player in this world. I wouldn’t be the first to break away from a racial belief.

  “Jeeves… you know me, and I can’t stand the thought of people dying for my selfish desires. I’ll throw my own life away, but not theirs.”

  “It’s not throwing a life away,” the AI said to me.

  “How is it not? The Wayfarer Seven is gone, destroyed. By your own admission, you two are all that’s left. I will not vote for such a course of action again.” Iron and Emerald had given me their keys, and I would promote an answer that I could live with in the morning.

  My own life. It meant something to me, but in this game world, I could risk death all I wanted.

  “Why would you stray so far from the Mechanoid way, Unit Hermes? It is odd to this one,” Aqua said from another side of the table. The blue [Mechanoid] had remained mostly silent.

  “By your own words, I have an old soul core.” I didn’t entirely know why they differentiated it. “That means no matter what happens, part of me will always look at this futuristic world through the eyes of a simple man from Earth.”

  “But you are no longer a simple creature,” Treasure said. The tired aspect to her voice became buried under the sweetened tone that must go with the silver coloring. “You were built, brought online, and you’ve worked hard to increase your own programming capacity. Surely these actions are all of the Mechanoid way?”

  I looked down and tried to figure out the magic words to get my feelings across. None of them sounded right. This wasn’t like the [Red Imp] where I had a goal and a personality trait to play by. This wasn’t William Carver’s already established personality. I had to figure out how to speak as a [Mechanoid] but in my own voice. A human, in a robot, talking to other robots who didn’t view the world the same way.

  It felt weird, doing such a thing.

  “As an old soul, I remember the deaths of those close to me.” I tried to avoid looking at Jeeves while talking. The AI had been upset at Treasure’s passing, and happy at their reunion. Even now they stood close together, looking at the same objects on the screen, her shorter form against its taller one.

  “Rarely is there an old soul who does not have such loss in their memory banks,” Aqua said. The blue [Mechanoid] shrugged as if that was the norm.

  “I don’t see things the way you do. I don’t… exist wholly in this world. I remember a life from outside of this body. That man, that part of me you call an old soul, can’t sacrifice anyone on its behalf. I can’t let go of the fact that if you die, even if you’re brought back online somewhere else, whatever you were will never be the same.” My words felt sloppy and only conveyed half of what I meant. Speeches were never a strong point for me.

  This whole topic felt as though I was waffling on an important subject with Xin. She was different than the women I knew, without a doubt, yet I still wanted to be with the part that remained.

  “I would protect you all as you are now, if I could,” I said.

  “So your votes are both for the Wayfarer Eight’s cessation of attempting to complete our assigned task?” Treasure asked.

  “My votes, both of them, demand that this crew prioritize survival over suicide,” I said with as much clarity as possible. Part of me felt more confident having said it. “Afterward, I, and I alone, will pursue Commander Queenshand and attempt to recover the Mistborn.”

  Jeeves didn’t need to die for me. It could go about the game happily with Treasure. If that was what the AI wanted to do in-game, it had my blessings, for what they were worth.

  “We will consider your argument, Unit Hermes. For now, what battle plan do you wish to vote for?”

  I chewed one lip for a moment. “I was going to offer to pilot the Knuckle Dragger through the Jump Gate and see if the other side is clear.”

  Part of my vague plans included ramming the other ship with the [Knuckle Dragger] if it could move well enough. The idea of ending additional lives scared me. I didn’t want to. Hopefully they would be gone, or simply leave, or any number of possibilities.

  “So you wish to recon the other side using their own ship?”

  “Yes. We could also bring back their bodies,” I said. All the dead bodies floating in space did not appeal to me. Aqua had people working on gathering them together in a space burial pile. “If they are there, I can try to appeal to them. Maybe if we simply promise to not pursue with the Wayfarer Eight, the ship left behind will leave or fall back. Something.”

  “The resource cost is minimal for such a proposal,” Treasure said.

  “One Mechanoid is a very low cost for the possibility of allowing these ones through,” Aqua chimed in.

  “Would they believe it?” I interjected. A few possible benefits were available from thinking more like a human and less like a [Mechanoid]. They were simply boiling things down to go through, around, or stop. I wanted to encourage the enemy to depart.

  Ruby shook her head.

  “Unit Ruby is right. They may believe it to be a trick,” Treasure said. Her fingers continued bringing up screens. As one opened, another closed. She easily juggled the informational intake.

  “Even if we bring back their dead?” I studied the blue [Mechanoid]. It would know better than the others on this subject. “How often have Mechanoids returned the bodies of those slain in combat?”

  Aqua’s nearly perpetual smile faltered for a moment. “Never. As this one already explained, we leave them for others to find. It seems best.”

  “Then we change the pattern and bring back those who were lost to war as a sign of good faith.” I shrugged. “With my body as the only possible causality.”

  “That might work. Humans value their dead far more than these ones do,” Aqua said while focusing on the board. His eyes traced lines and paths between here and the destination.

  “Very well. I agree with this portion of the plan,” Treasure said.

  “As does this one.” Aqua nodded quickly.

  Ruby didn’t nod or shake her head. It was enough for a box to display though.

  “As for the portion where you wish to go alone, this I do not agree with. Mechanoids are stronger in groups.” Treasure collapsed all her windows and looked at me. Her gold-and-silver-laced eyes locked with mine for a second before glancing at the blue [Mechanoid].

  “Agreed.” Aqua passed the question to the third NPC [Mechanoid]. “Unit Ruby?”

  Ruby nodded gently, then flashed a feral half-smile. Not a thumbs-up or a shrug, no variation in how she stood. The female [Mechanoid] gave off the impression of a puppet waiting for a reason to pull her own strings.

  “Then I propose we take a few vessels with us. Two, no more.” Jeeves nodded along with the others. It was the only other vaguely player-type existence to ever grace either Wayfarer ship.

  They only paid attention because the AI was offering a suggestion, not making a vote.

  “Two it is,” Aqua said.

  Ruby nodded again.

  “What?” I felt as though I had won and lost. “What do you mean?”

  “I will be going,” Treasure said.

  My ability to stay with this conversation was rapidly slipping. The dull throbbing in my chest served to dim portions of my awareness.

  “I would prefer if you remained with the Wayfarer Eight,” Jeeves said. Once again I saw a flash of real emotion on the former Hal Pal unit’s face.

  “There is no need. In our absence, another will step up to make decisions. The ship will function fine if allowed the freedom to continue forward,” Treasure said, shooting down Jeeves’s hopeful statement.

  “We’re going to retrofit your Wayfarer’s Hope using parts from my own Seeker. Aqua’s vessel was undamaged, and Ruby has ample resources to rebuild the Razor’s Edge,” Treasure said. Additional figures cam
e up, and various ships appeared about the campaign-planning map.

  I could see a modified version of the [Wayfarer’s Hope] sitting there. It looked like a beefed up version of our old vessel. Increased interior, an extra set of wings in the back, and more engines. Strong laces of gold and iron ran through it, showing a mixture of the colors we three [Mechanoid]s shared. Interlaced between that was a messy mix of my lone green.

  “Are you sure?” I bit my lip. Part of me was extremely happy that they’d chosen to come with me on this death mission. The other part wanted them to simply escort the [Wayfarer Eight] home.

  “This one is, yes,” Aqua said.

  “I’m going. If I wasn’t in this until the end, I would have never accepted reconstruction.” Treasure nodded. Her sweet tone overtook the tired one with ease.

  Ruby nodded again.

  After trying to take a careful breath, I asked, “Jeeves?”

  “Yes, Unit Hermes, I am here until the end,” Jeeves answered without hesitation.

  “Even if—” I couldn’t say it. The AI didn’t know what might happen in the case of game death.

  “Yes, Unit Hermes. You won’t get rid of me that easily,” my friend said.

  I nodded. From here, provided we push back the other large ship left behind, we could truly give chase.

  They made plans while an errant thought crossed my mind. It was triggered by Jeeves’s words. This idea was not a new one. It had passed through many times, teasing, taunting, offering liberal amounts of hope for a wounded heart. Today it came forth without a melancholy taint of sadness or desperate hope of succor for a drowning man.

  It existed with a stilled resolution. At the end of this adventure, I would be together with Xin, even if it killed me.

  I felt at the wounds on my chest and side while contemplating a second thought. This second idea chased the first with a rapid cynicism, sneaking in before I could clamp down on growing suspicions. Perhaps, the thought said, I would only be together with Xin when this adventure truly killed me.

  Session Sixty — Peace Offing