Earth's Gambit (The Gam3 Book 2)

by Cosimo Yap

  But I know that’s inefficient, Alan sent. To be a great hacker, not just a decent one, I need to understand these fundamental systems. Optimization can happen at every level. Let’s continue with the math lessons.

  Lambda paused. At your current rate of progress it will be years before you’re at an adolescent Erudite level. I’m not sure this is the wisest course of action on how to spend our time. If you insist, however, there may be another way.

  And what’s that? Alan asked.

  I will attempt to edit, write, and review programs. You, on the other hand, will need to try to follow along. But don’t focus on the minute actions. Try to get a feel for what’s going on, extend your senses. Who knows, maybe this will work.

  Very well. Alan closed his eyes. He focused on Lambda and his current actions, tuning out everything else.

  The AI was editing a massive wall of text, numbers and equations and symbols that Alan barely recognized. A hundred different windows opened—some weren’t even full of text, but moving pictures of varied pixels.

  Alan tried to copy the scene in front of him.

  No, focus, Lambda sent.

  Focus on what? Alan tried to focus in Lambda’s place, put himself in Lambda’s shoes.

  He got nothing for a moment, a wall of calculation. And then there was a burst of color and a wash of light.

  Alan was manipulating a photon, a single wave-particle. Then a dozen, then a hundred.

  Alien harmonic generators increased the frequency of the light waves, and then tuners manipulated the photons. Shapes that came fast and quick were fitted together like tetris: measured, and in the measuring, changed.

  Colors that Alan had never seen sprang into existence, expanded into his mind. The pieces flew together faster than he could figure out how to place them; the colors ranged from normal to bizarre to ever-changing.

  Everything came to a crashing crescendo. Measured one final time, the bizarre lightshow was compiled, reinterpreted as data.

  And then there was silence.

  A mysterious object floated in front of Alan, a pale, white egg that was the fruit of his labor.

  He opened his eyes.

  Messages appeared:

  Skill Learned! Hypertranslation

  Synchronization rank with AI Lambda increased!

  New data created. You have acquired a ??? program.

  Alan examined the skill, which cost 10 Computational Energy per second, like hypercognition:

  Skill Name:

  Skill Rank:

  Skill Proficiency:

  Skill Rarity:

  Hypertranslation

  B*

  ???

  A

  Allows the user to enter a state of accelerated understanding, able to translate in-game data at an accelerated rate.

  Well that was unexpected; I thought we’d need a few months, a few more bonding moments, Lambda sent. Given the indeterminate nature of the work, I’m surprised we succeeded.

  What?

  Well, AIs typically have a signature ability. My original job was to abstract functionality, to translate software from languages for other AI. But with how far the Game’s translation code has advanced, I can see why my work is no longer needed.

  Machine Lords may gain access to these signature abilities if their synchronization rank with their AI is high enough, Lambda sent. Basically, how well you mesh with them. I’m not entirely sure how the implants do this. Eve seems to focus on speed—she performs exhaustive searches and split-second decisions that I couldn’t handle. Thus, hypercognition. With time, as your synchronization rank increases, you may gain new sub-abilities or improve the main ability itself.

  And how do I increase synchronization rank? Alan asked.

  That’s what’s odd to me. Increasing your synchronization should be a slow and steady process that takes months as you work together with your AI on a wide variety of problems or have a strong connection form. But we just had an epiphany out of nowhere. It felt like I was back…back a long time ago.

  I suppose the Administrators chose me to become a Machine Lord for a reason, Alan sent.

  I suppose they did.

  Now what’s this mystery program? Alan asked.

  That’s what I was trying to create. What we created. Enter the Citadel.

  Alan went into his base in Cyberspace. The white egg in his vision appeared in his hand. He laid it down at his feet.

  A moment later, it hatched. A metal hawk with a piercing red glare like a Terminator looked up at him.

  A message appeared:

  New unit available! You are now able to summon Signal Hawks. These units are able to block incoming and outgoing symbols in a 500-meter radius below them for up to five minutes at a time before requiring a rest.

  Alan examined the Signal Hawk’s stats:

  Signal Hawk, Rank C Program. Produced at Research Center.

  Advanced surveillance program.

  Cost: 40 Energy.

  Upkeep: 5 Energy.

  Attack: None

  Defense: 25 armor. 50% evasion rate.

  Health: 50 hp.

  Movement: 7

  Special Abilities: Signal Jamming

  Awesome, let’s test this thing out, Alan sent.

  He hacked into the bugs placed on his armor and lasers. The Signal Hawk flew above the bugs’ shields and jammed any signals, and then Lambda took down the shields in under a minute.

  Lambda messed with the bugs’ settings. They would no longer be able to interfere with Alan’s items, and would tell whoever had placed them whatever Alan desired. For now, he kept the location in sync with his actual location.

  They also traced the bugs back to Icewolf, as Alan had expected.

  Alan ran through what everyone was up to. Icewolf was gathering information about the city and the Legion of Man’s status on Mars. Alan learned there were roughly fifteen large dome cities divided into three regions in Mars.

  People had split up into familiar groups, with a Russian quadrant; a Chinese quadrant with a small number of Korean and Japanese districts; a Middle Eastern quadrant that further separated itself by predominant religious beliefs rather than country; and then a final quadrant full of people of various nationalities.

  Each district had its own main military base with a Control Point, and then there was the Red Sentinel, a 10,000-man space station that orbited Mars. Only select personnel were allowed into this base that controlled Mars’ main defense, an orbital laser cannon. The higher-ups were all purported to be on this station.

  ***

  In the meantime, DaLong interrogated Kitana about everyone’s trustworthiness and abilities. Kitana held little back, though she was as terse as usual. She vouched for Alan and Icewolf.

  Merlin and Arthur seemed headed toward an adventure, and it looked like the two were sketchier than even Kitana had expected:

  Merlin: Bro, I found an awesome quest to clear out a nearby mine, apparently some giant sand worm is guarding its nest. Wanna check it out?

  Arthur: Sure. Should we tell the others?

  Merlin: Nah, we got a week, remember? It’ll be boring if we go crying to them about every little detail. Have you found a good mark yet?

  Arthur: No, but I’ll keep looking. Most of the people I’ve talked to are miners. I wouldn’t feel good swindling working-class folk, and it’s not like they’d have much. Maybe we should focus on gathering information we can sell instead. I’m sure the UWG is interested in mine export and production numbers.

  Merlin: Let’s consider it. I want to kill this worm. Meet me at the west gate, I’ve arranged a ride there.

  Alan debated following them, but decided against it. They’d return to the bunkhouse or message the group eventually.

  Instead, Alan returned to his Home and tried to design additional programs with Lambda.

  But the magic was gone. Creations turned out broken and error-prone, or Alan would freeze, forget where he was, and have no idea what he was doing, even with hypertr
anslation active.

  The ability was odd, to say the least. Alan still didn’t understand how light could be translated into code. Every time, something would go wrong. The light would change on its own, often before Alan could realize it, and the project would be ruined.

  A lightshow monstrosity sat in Alan’s mind, polygons on polygons.

  Can we debug this mess somehow? Alan asked.

  Debugging doesn’t work like how you’d expect because of how interconnected everything is, Lambda sent. You can’t go back and change one variable without the entire equation shifting. There are forms of debugging, delicate surgeries to replace or fix pieces, but a hot mess like this isn’t worth the effort.

  Hours later, Alan called it a night. There had been little progress, but he enjoyed hypertranslation, the little acts of creation. A few tasks had repeated themselves, and Alan felt like he was improving slowly.

  He received a single message from Icewolf, which was sent to the entire group.

  Icewolf: Report to the bunkhouse at 0900 Standard Time for a general report.

  Alan decided to sleep in his Home—it was far more comfortable than the bunkhouse. He told Lambda to wake him up in five hours at 0830 and fell asleep.

  ***

  BOO! a voice shouted in Alan’s mind.

  Alan jolted awake. He admonished Lambda, then set off for the bunkhouse.

  A street vendor provided breakfast. Alan got a white steamed bun. It was sweet and slightly salty, and only cost two credits. Alan didn’t ask what type of meat was in it.

  The city didn’t seem too busy, since the morning rush had passed. A building caught Alan’s attention. It advertised work for anyone, no matter the species, shape, or size.

  What caught Alan’s notice was that they had a comprehensive security system, the strongest Alan had detected since New York. He was managing to develop an intuition for these types of things.

  The business was named Empire’s Sun. Alan stepped inside. It looked like an entrance hall to a mansion. White and gold adorned the walls, with a red crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A grand piano sat in the corner of the room.

  Next to the entrance, a pretty Chinese lady in red power armor that fit like a dress sat at a welcome desk.

  “Greetings, sir, how may we help you today?” she asked.

  “The sign outside said you had work,” Alan said.

  The lady looked over Alan for a moment.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I expect most of our work is too low-level for you. Might I refer you to our offices on Khersath?”

  The Empire, Lambda sent. He was examining the building’s network. This whole place reeks of them.

  “I’m staying in town for now, sorry,” Alan said. “I’d be willing to perhaps take a low-level job. What would the pay be like?”

  “The best I could offer is a VIP bodyguard position, 500 credits a day.”

  “500 credits?” Alan asked.

  “A miner can be expected to earn 50 credits a day.” The lady thought for a moment. “A pair of gentlemen took an advanced task—perhaps if they do not complete it successfully, we can give it to you. Come back in a week.”

  50 credits a day, Alan thought to himself.

  That’s about standard, Lambda sent. It usually takes about five years in-game for someone to pay off their capsule. Now we should get back.

  Alan thanked the lady, but declined the offer and left. He arrived at the bunkhouse right before the meeting time.

  Everyone else was present, gathered around a table in the kitchen area. A pink box filled with baked goods was open. Alan grabbed another white bun.

  “Now that we are all here, let’s discuss our findings,” Icewolf said.

  He proceeded to launch into a summary of what he had learned. He didn’t seem to omit anything obvious.

  “Well, we’ve found a dungeon,” Merlin said. “Out in the desert, or whatever you call it. We were following this massive worm. Face just full of teeth, gob like you can’t imagine. It was only level 250 or so, easy pickings.

  “But then it burrows underground after a bit of pyrotechnics and a slight case of the stabbings. So we followed it down, and despite Arthur’s pansy whining, you can see that we’re still alive. Well, we found a massive pit, inside of which there were these worms everywhere, even one massive green thing with a custom name, Acid Jaw.”

  “We took one look then hightailed it back. Put a marker on our maps. We weren’t prepared for a dungeon dive, had this meeting to get to. And you know what else was inside there?” Merlin paused for emphasis.

  “Power crystals,” Alan said.

  “Power crystals,” Merlin said. “Hey! How’d you know that, mate?”

  Alan shrugged. “Power crystal mines always have relatively high-level creatures guarding them. 250 is higher than the average here. It’s common knowledge. What color were they?”

  “I dunno, why would that matter?” Merlin asked.

  “A deep blood red,” Arthur said. “There should be thousands, though they were small.”

  Alan recalled the market prices. “A weak red crystal the size of a pen is worth 50 credits. It only has the power to run a car for a few years, but people here don’t seem to need too much energy. We’d need a mining crew to gather them, though with the right equipment I’d probably be able to mine them myself.”

  “Let us go and slay these beasts,” Kitana said. She turned to the door.

  “Hold on, everybody,” Icewolf said. He gazed at Kitana. “Slow down and think for a bit.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kitana said.

  Lambda sent, That tone was odd, respectful to a high degree.

  “Dungeons and hunting grounds are the property of the local ruling government. We would gain little experience clearing this place compared to local players, and I doubt we’d gain many favors clearing it ourselves. I’m sure the local Elders will reward you for finding this dungeon,” Icewolf said, looking at DaLong. He nodded.

  “Besides,” Icewolf stood up straight, “you all seem to forget our purpose here. How does this help us with our goal of capturing the UWG starship?”

  “It, uh, gains us favor with the locals. We might level up from the assault,” Merlin said.

  “And what progress did you make?” Icewolf asked Alan.

  “I’m still recovering,” Alan said. “I did discover an Empire outpost, though, and acquainted myself with the local Administrative Center.”

  “In other words, you did nothing,” Icewolf said. “Can’t you still plan and calculate while recovering? Or can you not think? Do you need to lie in bed and have me mother you? I will, if that’s what it takes.”

  “No, I’ll have a basic outline of a plan tomorrow,” Alan said.

  “I will develop my own, and we’ll compare,” Icewolf said.

  DaLong stepped forward. “The Elders did have a request. If we complete it we can have an audience with a general—the one who wished for you to develop your plan. They were hoping that we could train a few select squads of their warriors. This dungeon sounds like an ideal place to do so.”

  Icewolf nodded. “You, Kitana, Merlin, and Arthur will handle that. Alan and I will focus on our plans. Meet here tomorrow at the same time. Dismissed.”

  Alan returned to the Administrative Center and re-entered his Home.

  How did one take over a massive starship anyhow?

  Chapter 22

  “Your plan is to sneak onto the ship, get into the control room, and then you’ll magically hack your way through their defenses and take it over?” Icewolf asked.

  “Pretty much,” Alan said.

  “That’s a bloody awful plan,” Merlin said. They were gathered back in the bunkhouse.

  “It also doesn’t require the help of anyone else. You could do this mission solo if this is all it took,” Icewolf said.

  “You’re there to serve as distractions and address any problems that arise,” Alan said.

  I think it’s a decent plan for the limited
information we have. You can’t plan for what you don’t know, Lambda sent.

  “Well we can’t go to the Elders with this,” Icewolf said.

  “I’m not a criminal mastermind; I’ve never done this type of thing before,” Alan said.

  He stood up and began pacing around the room. “Do you expect me to come up with some brilliant ten-step plan for world domination? There are too many variables, things we don’t know. Our first step should probably be gathering more information about the ship.

  “I could maybe scrap together a simulation, to help us practice and figure out what might go wrong, but we don’t have the facilities here. According to the data chip there’s a simulation room up on the space station, the Red Sentinel, but we aren’t allowed there.”

  “You also aren’t making use of any of the Legion of Man personnel,” Icewolf said.

  “I don’t trust them not to screw up,” Alan said.

  Nor do we trust those who stand among us, Lambda commented.

  Icewolf paused. He had received a message with a link to a broadcast. Alan read it: You should watch.

  “Everyone be quiet, watch this,” Icewolf said. He projected a video onto the wall. Everyone gathered around.

  “Hey! Isn’t that Daisy’s mum, Monica?” Merlin asked.

  “Yes, though she’s taken the moniker Gaia in-game. Watch,” Icewolf said.

  Daisy’s mother stood before a podium, clad in navy blue power armor instead of a suit. She stared directly at the camera. A crowd of military officers and personnel sat before her in an auditorium.