Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  I stood on the bridge of a now-empty [Knuckle Dragger]. Treasure had remotely initiated the Jump Gate and pushed me right through. For the first time, I was alone, truly alone, and farther away from the rest of my crew than ever before.

  “I will eat you!” a barely female voice shouted at me.

  My eyes weren’t focused that well on her right now. Human ships didn’t have as many neat interface options. Knobs and dials were in front of me. Many of the screens were broken. One projector worked, which allowed me to see half of the person I spoke to.

  “I will turn you into metal man soup!” the person screamed.

  Auntie Backstab’s big, ugly metal face displayed. She was twice as ugly without her helmet. Veins popped in weird spots, and her hair had been badly burned or shaved off. I’d be upset too if the man who blew up my ship just waltzed through my defeated vessel.

  My heart raced a bit. One hand kept gripping at the inactivated laser sword hilt in my hand. I blinked now and then, but it wasn’t from nervousness. Seeing gobs of slobber froth up from her anger didn’t make me that upset. This was surprisingly fun. Being yelled at by a virtual monster held far more excitement than dealing with angry customers.

  I choked back amusement and tried to stay level-headed. “Ma’am—”

  “I am no ham!” she shouted abruptly.

  My lips quivered slightly. She was on the other side of a broken screen. This was way more entertaining than being chased around a ship in desperation. Now, here, I felt comfortable enough to almost laugh.

  “The Mechanoid fleet wishes to cease hostilities. I’ve brought back your deceased as a sign of good faith toward this goal.” I tried to remain calm. Maybe there were some crew members in the background who could get rid of Auntie Backstab.

  “I propose we eat you for dinner! You bring your fleet, I will eat!” Her face twisted and a new series of bubbles dripped off the protruding lower jaw. Then Auntie Backstab seemed to hear her rhyme and laughed.

  “Perhaps there is someone else I should be talking to?” I suggested. Requesting another person sometimes helped when working out in the field. It gave irate customers a hint. Using such methodology while negotiating with the enemy felt neat.

  “You should not be talking! You are a ham! You should be squealing!”

  “Captain Backstab, what are you doing on my bridge?” a male voice I hadn’t heard before cut in.

  “Talking to ham!”

  “Ma’am, I am not a pig. I am a Mechanoid,” I said calmly and with far more glee than anyone should have. Talking to this vaguely womanish monster filled me with mirth. Being miles away from such a violently unstable mountain of crazy and being able to mock her with kindness made my top ten list of best moments.

  “Get off my bridge, Captain Backstab,” the male said.

  “Your bridge is stupid! I will go take mine back now that ham has brought it.” The half [Leviathan], half [Behemoth] walked off.

  I tried to figure out if the game would make a new race were there more than one of her. [Levimoth]? [Beheathan]?

  The newest man’s face came into view. Only half could be seen on the broken display. He looked human, older, with a few extra pounds on him. In his hand was a small armored marine figurine. Insignias lined the visible shoulder, denoting numerous awards given for combat.

  “What is your name, Mechanoid?” The man’s tone commanded me to answer.

  “This one is Unit Hermes.” I tried to borrow speech patterns from Aqua and fulfill my role. Getting into character had been hard with Auntie Backstab’s grumbling face, but this ship’s captain seemed suited to the role.

  “And since when have Mechanoids ever attempted to bring back another races’ dead?” he said.

  I wished I could see the missing portion of the screen capture to better read his facial responses. “I suggested to the others that this might serve as a token of goodwill, with the goal of a ceasefire.”

  The man tapped his fingers against a desk out of view. “Why would you desire this?”

  “This one”—talking like Aqua was kind of fun—“has many reasons. First, we believe your commander is on a mad quest to abuse the Mistborn’s powers. It is logical to assume that you’ve been left behind to prevent our ship from pursuing her.”

  “We have,” the man said, confirming my belief rather easily.

  I paused to review his body language. Only half of it was visible, but the remaining portion looked resolute. His chin lifted a little higher, both eyes unwavering, cupped the figurine and put his hands behind his back in a military rest position.

  “Then if we agree not to use the Wayfarer Eight in pursuit, your mission will be accomplished without the need for additional humans to lose their lives,” I stressed the last part of the sentence. To me, it was worth taking both of our larger vessels off the table.

  “Your kind have shown little regard for our lives before,” he said, lifting his chin a bit higher and adopting an accusing glare.

  “I am not like the rest of my kind. It may serve you to know that I have what the Mechanoids call an old soul core, or as some label me, a Traveler,” I said.

  “You’re certainly not like the others. In which case you are even less likely to be trusted.” He didn’t back down from his verbal challenge. “Standard Mechanoids are straightforward when tested in battle. Travelers often don’t know the value of honor.”

  I bit my lip and avoided screaming at the projection. This man had implied, without provocation, that I was possibly a liar and a cheat. Even my customers were more polite than that. On average anyway.

  “All I want”—I tried to come back to the point—“is for our ship to be allowed passage home to Mechanoid territory. Such an exchange will reduce pointless waste for both our races.”

  “If you’re concerned with your people’s safety, I suggest you simply go around. I have nothing to gain by allowing you through.” The man brought up one of the main points I’d managed to prepare for.

  This entire exchange reminded me of the days when I did accounting. People worried about money, and they argued over little things. Often they stuck to one point or another as a deal breaker. Any smart person, captain or not, would decline something that didn’t have an upside. Which meant I had to remind him of the stakes.

  “No, Captain, it’s quite the opposite. I pushed for an exchange of safe passage so both our forces and yours can leave this mad quest.” I stood firm and tried to remember my calming exercises. This situation bordered on too serious compared with Auntie Backstab. “There’s no reason your people or mine should suffer due to a Traveler’s whims or Commander Queenshand’s crusade.”

  “The commander is worthy of respect for her goals,” the unnamed captain said. His posture relaxed. There was no rebuttal in the statement though, only a defense of his commanding officer. That meant I had made progress in convincing him.

  “If she was worthy of respect, she would not allow hundreds to die in order to bring back one person.”

  There was a clear pause as my words sank in. It was a backhanded statement that would set back any normal person. I tried not to smile as the realism of these various AIs hit home once more. I was communicating with a virtual creation, while pretending to be a robotic man, without any sort of guidance on how to act.

  “You are the Traveler who was originally granted rights to the Mistborn, correct?”

  “I am,” I said.

  “Then would you cease pursuit as well?” he asked me point-blank.

  “I can’t, for my own reasons. I hope to reduce this mission down to a few Mechanoids and the Travelers who grabbed the Mistborn.”

  I wanted to get to the [Mistborn] for Xin—that hadn’t changed. It would never change, one quest or task at a time. All with the purpose of spending whatever time was available with her. In this world or the next.

  I remembered an old song I’d heard a few times where the singer mentions he must be good so he could see his dead wife in the next life. It wasn’
t much to dance to, but it had struck a chord after Xin passed. Listening to it had also turned me into a depressive moody drunk for those first few months after her death.

  “And Commander Queenshand?” the captain asked. “Will you attempt to kill her if she gets in your way?”

  This time, I chewed my lip and considered my answer. We were negotiating details that would impact hundreds of [Mechanoid]s. “If needed.”

  There was another pause. I could tell the man was weighing lives against each other. His ship, his crew, a good portion had already died from the [Wayfarer Seven]. They would be against a slightly less powerful [Wayfarer Eight], but there would be more casualties.

  Bodies floated on this side of the Jump Gate too. I could see human ships recovering the dead all around, much as we had recovered the [Mechanoid] ones on our side. It made sense. Not every fighter ship would explode in a blaze of glory and leave behind charred remains.

  The [Knuckle Dragger] rocked as something huge docked. I looked over and saw an alarm calling the crew to battle stations.

  “Decide quickly, Captain. I believe Auntie Backstab intends to kill me. I must respond to my consortium before that happens. The loss of this body will put me out of commission beyond their deadline, at which point they will come through regardless of my desires.”

  There was another pause. I could practically feel the ship vibrating as Auntie Backstab made her way from the hangar below to this command center. Each loud clomp of the monster’s footsteps quaked throughout the vessel. I felt a tinge of remorse about the polite mockery uttered earlier.

  “Very well. Tell your surviving crew that we will offer a ceasefire and escort them to an alternate Jump Gate that leads to Mechanoid territory. That is the best I can offer.” The captain nodded.

  The captain’s hand gripped his small military figurine tightly. For a moment, he glanced down as if an entire board was spread out before him. Maybe he stood in front of a display which helped make the decision.

  “That’s good enough for me.” I nodded happily.

  Current Stage Event:

  Ceasefire negotiated. Modifications are being made to both faction’s memberships. Please take note of the following changes:

  [Mechanoid] forces are being rerouted away from this scenario

  [Knight’s Lance] and crew are being rerouted away from this scenario

  [Knuckle Dragger] remains active

  [WTS a Spaceship] remains active

  [Mechanoid] force comprised of Hermes, Ruby, Aqua, Treasure, and Jeeves remain active.

  I barely reined in a happy dance on the spot. It would be quite easy to bust out some moves. Dancing, a huge portion of my life, had been put on the back burner after switching to Continue Online.

  “That being said, Hermes, I cannot and will not prevent Captain Backstab from taking back her ship.”

  “I didn’t expect you to.” I sighed heavily while wondering how bad the next backstab would hurt. One hand rubbed at the wounds on my chest. Deep breathing still made me wince. “Honoring our arrangement is enough.”

  “I will if your people will.” The man turned a bit and nodded to someone in the background. I couldn’t tell who since they were in the broken half of my screen.

  “That’s fair, Captain. If not, the Wayfarer Eight will go down firing, and that serves no one,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. This was a big risk. We were effectively trusting an enemy ship to escort our partially equipped vessel.

  Hopefully I could trust the Advance Online system message. It sounded as though a lot of pieces were being taken off the board, aside from the other players. It felt odd that the [Knuckle Dragger] remained in play, but Treasure could probably solve that in seconds.

  “I wish your other ship had had the same sense prior to starting this nonsense.” The man clicked off the communication screen.

  I was left with a ship shuddering from Auntie Backstab’s footfalls. Maybe I only imagined her approaching.

  I pressed the buttons to try to reach back through the Jump Gate to Treasure. It took twenty seconds for it to pick up. Treasure’s shorter body came onto the broken display.

  “They’ve agreed,” I said and worried as the ship shuddered. Just how strong was Auntie Backstab if she could make everything shake like this? Voices help me if her happiness level had taken a severe dive.

  We talked briefly about how the remaining ship’s captain had agreed to a ceasefire but demanded to escort the [Wayfarer Eight] to a Jump Gate. Treasure and Aqua agreed that it was a sensible request.

  There was a short time delay in our conversation since the message was piping through a great distance. Part of me was annoyed that Advance Online felt the need to be realistic on this point but chose to allow giant space monsters and metal-morphing races like the [Mechanoid]s.

  “Very well. We will pilot our ships through and submit to the escort.” Aqua nodded. “We shall join you soon for pickup.”

  “I’m probably going to be…” Dead wasn’t the right word. Being crushed was more accurate for a metal body. “Well, Auntie Backstab is going to probably remove this shell to reclaim the ship.”

  “Unlikely. We have prepared a lesser Mechanoid to stand in for this eventuality. Ruby will assist in masking your presence.”

  “What?” I turned around in time to see a flash of crimson behind me. Everything spun.

  Ruby, the red-skinned [Mechanoid] who seemed to linger outside the edge of my vision, had done something dangerous. She must have been using a stealth ability, like the one that Emerald had awarded me but I hadn’t tested. A box flashed, telling me roughly what was going on.

  Attention unit identified as Hermes!

  You are being hacked. This is the first time you have been hacked by another [Mechanoid]. Please be aware that countering this process requires a combination of [Endurance], [Depth], and [Focus].

  I ground my teeth and tried to stay conscious. They were doing exactly what I had argued against—sacrificing countless people to help me. The fact that a [Mechanoid] personality would be recovered somewhere else didn’t matter in my mind. A box displayed the effect of my efforts upon this game character.

  Second hacking attempt resisted, [Tenacity] awarded.

  Massive footsteps stomped nearby. I felt the vibrations rather than saw them. My ARC feedback had grown exceptionally blurry. Small ones and zeros were crawling across my vision like worms. Behind them was a trail of blackness that provided no visual information.

  Ruby was under my armpit, lifting me. We staggered somewhere as the hacking attempt wore on. In a small corner of the command room was an exit panel. The other [Mechanoid] set me down and removed the paneling.

  “Ah ha! Metal soup man!” Auntie Backstab yelled from another room.

  The half [Leviathan] NPC couldn’t have smelled me through the walls, could she?

  Third hacking attempt resisted, [Tenacity] and [Respect] awarded.

  “Unit Hermes, you have shown value for what you perceive life to be, and we respect this. However, we do not have time to lose a key figure to the whims of the enemy,” said Treasure, her voice ringing in my head.

  Everything started to fade. I wanted to growl and huff at Treasure. They had set up another [Mechanoid] to die in my place. Even now I could hear Auntie Backstab.

  “Backstab successful!” she shouted, and the entire ship shuddered.

  Fourth hacking attempt resisted, [Tenacity], [Respect], and [Adaptability] awarded.

  Fifth hacking successful, awareness shutting down.

  The ARC feedback didn’t stop. Advance Online gradually brought back my eyesight and deposited me in the gray space. This was the same area I had ended up in after the [Leviathan] encounter and ripping out my [Core]s.

  I logged out and tended to reallife issues. I loaded a monitoring program to keep myself apprised of the in-game situation. A sound would play once my unconscious status changed and my character was playable again.

  The house needed a quick round of clean
ing. Clothing sat folded and pressed in a deposit box. I picked that up, threw empty food containers into a recycling bin, and tried to remember what life had consisted of on a good day. Sleep, dancing, and work mostly.

  Aside from the necessities of self-maintenance, I also had family. Liz had visited me a few days ago in the hospital, and she likely hadn’t come to grips with our argument on Sunday. Our brief conversation was probably the result of the medical scare.

  I called Beth because I needed someone human to talk to after all that gallivanting about as a [Mechanoid]. Maybe she could help me get a Continue fix. The option of watching her play through my admin connection was appealing.

  She answered the video call on the first ring. “Uncle Grant!”

  “Munchkin—I mean, Beth!” I tried to cover up the fumble. Sometimes if I used munchkin, she’d get mad at me. “I wanted to see how things are going.”

  “Good, great! Sort of. Homework is rough,” the bubbly teen said. She hadn’t changed much over the last few months, but I felt as though I had gone through a few wringers.

  “Hey. Question for you about Continue.” I launched into my actual topic. Beth’s homework would be well beyond the scope of what I’d learned in high school.

  “Fire away, Uncle Grant. I’ve got time tonight. Taking a break from the box.” She shrugged. “Mom says it’s unhealthy, and she pays the bills.”

  “She’s probably right. Anyway, my question—there’s this commander to the north”—I looked around, trying to remember the location—“in Tuu, I think?”

  “Yeah. A giant mountain range that runs along the northern side. That’s a lot of ground though. Which commander?”

  “Like, Queenshand? Something Arm?” It had to be similar to Queenshand. That letter had been delivered almost a month ago. Just one among the dozens I had handed out to players and NPCs alike. Their names were often blips on the radar as my feet wandered across the game world.

  “Oh, there’s a Strongarm who’s a sister to a queen!” Beth nearly shouted in joy but managed to hush her voice. My sister must have been asleep upstairs. “She’s the aunt to those princesses. You remember the ones you got in the middle of? I still can’t believe you whooshed in there. Like a hero. My boyfriend was in awe.”