“Everybody down!” she yelled as she threw herself to the ground and covered her head.
The team threw themselves to the dirt as the rifle struck the plasma round, and the plasma matrix within the rifle collided with the round she’d fired.
Plasma was a tricky thing for the game designers. Since it wasn’t in use with the military, they had free reign to do what they wished. However, they still had to keep a degree of realism that made The Warp amazing and playable, and also kept the masses coming back for more each month.
Using current knowledge and theories, the designers at WarpSoft had made the plasma matrix. The twin wishbone design of the matrix had two functions. The first, and most obvious, was to hold the matrix containment crystals, which kept the plasma active but contained within the chamber, and kept it from suffering a meltdown. The second, and lesser known, was to keep the plasma from breaching the containment by storing excess energy in the flux arch, and occasionally venting plasma out through specially designed ports at the end of the barrel.
Very few gamers actually cared about the inner workings of a theoretical weapon from a video game. Most of the responses the designers got back ran along the lines of “cool gun, can it blow up a moon?” However, the best players try to fully understand the game mechanics so they can manipulate the items and weapons to create something…better.
The designers had never imagined the consequences of flipping the charge in reverse and firing, something they figured no gamer would be insane enough to try. The charge was simply like a battery, they’d decided. A positive and a negative end. The rifle couldn’t be fired if the charge was out of the rifle. However, they never considered the possibility of a determined, deranged, and devious individual flipping polarities of a charge when firing, changing the polarity of the round as well. She was determined and desperate.
Very desperate.
When the rifle struck the plasma round, it melted and the arch shattered like china. The containment field fluttered ever so slightly for a moment, then the crystal containment fractured, and a bright flash lit the entire purple Ganymede sky. Time seemed to slow and stop as the Chaos factor within The Warp considered the probable consequences of her actions, ran random calculations, consulted with a few subroutines and programs, and then decided to throw caution to the wind. Chaos, it appeared, was a crueler master than Fate, and had a twisted sense of humor.
A sun, Chaos decided. The surface of the moon should become a sun.
Around Tori and her team, the world seemed to end as a white-hot wall of flames threatened to devour them all. If they’d been standing, they’d have been vaporized and out of the game.
The resulting concussion wave, though, slammed their faces into the ground and they bounced upward slightly as everything around the team grew frighteningly hot. She vaguely heard a yell of pain as the second wave from the plasma wash struck them. Her body was picked up by the force of the second wave and tossed through the thin atmosphere toward the station, a lofty trajectory which left a streaking trail of light behind her as she began to descend rapidly. Why she’d been picked up and not the others never crossed her mind; instead, she swallowed reflexively and tried to keep from screaming in terror. She briefly looked down at the ground in panic as she realized where she was going to land.
“Oh my God, I’m going to die this time,” she hissed through clenched teeth as she hurtled toward a large pile of rocks she couldn’t remember being there before. The heat from the blast, she noticed as she picked up speed, fell off sharply as the cold, thin Ganymede air slowed the plasma-fueled explosive wave. At least something went right, a small part of her brain congratulated her mockingly.
Shut up, she told her brain.
“Tori!” She heard Tyler shout as she crashed into the rocks. Her head struck one, and she was dazed, her body broken under the impact. She woozily realized her oxygen situation no longer mattered. Figures, she thought as she slipped into unconsciousness. Good thing I’m a Mod now, and this character is recoverable. Stupid world. Crisis was way cooler.
The plasma blast had additional consequences beyond what she’d intended. Royce, not heeding the shouted warning, had only begun to turn when the plasma matrix had exploded. The full force of the violent blast had caught him full-on in the chest and rocked him off his feet and into the air as well. However, unlike her, Royce hadn’t been prepared for it. He was eliminated before the second wave reached him, his body vaporizing in the heat of the blast. His body depixelated rapidly and disappeared as his plasma rifle, luckily not breached as well, fell to the ground harmlessly. Royce’s character, for all intents and purposes, was dead.
* * *
Gargoyle found himself back in the Nexus, momentarily confused as he struggled to regain his bearings, then he shook his head at his own stupidity.
“Who decided plasma rifles were a good thing?” He asked nobody in particular. This corner of the Nexus was his own private retreat, unknown to any other gamers. It was also his anchor into The Warp, and how he powered the Nexus. He very much doubted the most brilliant minds at WarpSoft would ever be able to figure out how he’d pulled it off.
The girl…he ruminated on his rotten luck when it came to the young gamer. She was dangerously smart and had the terrifying ability to come up with plans on the fly. She could probably figure it out if she ever discovered his little enclave. He wasn’t sure if his elimination was luck, or if she was really that good. He pondered the development for a few moments then shrugged. He couldn’t take any more chances with her or her associates. He’d avoid them for the time being.
It was probably his safest bet. The next step was critical, and he could ill afford to make any more mistakes.
* * * * *
Chapter 8
Tori hurt. Her entire body, mind, and even her hair simply hurt.
Why do I always end up like this?
Various aches and pains ran up and down her body every time she tried to move. A heavy weight pressed down on her chest, and she groaned out loud. Her hand reflexively sought the plasma rifle she’d been carrying before remembering she’d used it to... something. Someone was keeping her down, but whom? She blinked her eyes and discovered the environmental suit’s helmet was no longer on her head. Why?
“Dude, that was insane,” Tyler’s face came into view and looked down at her. She blinked again and looked back up at the Moderator. Behind him was nothing but black, open sky. She started to panic but forced herself to remain calm. Of course, her brain realized a moment later. There was some kind of window protecting them from it. She wasn’t outside anymore.
“What?” she asked, confused. Where were they?
“The plasma trick,” Tyler replied and lifted his knee off her chest. She was, after a moment of pain, able to prop herself up on an elbow. She gasped as more pain emanated from her chest, almost forcing her to lie back down. Instead she grinned, bore the pain, and looked around.
The station was deathly silent. As it’d earlier been crowded to the extreme, she didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. She rubbed her forehead and grimaced, feeling a particularly nasty knot above her left eye. That’s going to leave a mark, she thought.
The walls were metal, which told her they were no longer in the main part of the station. In fact, she realized as she continued to inspect her surroundings carefully, she wasn’t quite sure where in the station they were. She was about to bring up her HUD display until she remembered her helmet was off. She glanced at the others questioningly.
“We still inside the station?” she asked. The others nodded. She watched Michael glance nervously around and looked at him curiously. “What’s up?
“Um, problems,” Michael replied.
“Royce was eliminated,” Tyler stated suddenly, looking over his shoulder toward the darkened hallway. The tubular hall, which was once brightly lit by the cresting Jupiter, was now dark as the giant gas planet had set over the horizon. She followed his gaze as Tyler continued
to speak. “Your plasma thingy did that.”
“That worked?” she asked, amazed. She couldn’t believe she’d survived the explosion while Royce hadn’t. She’d been much closer to the point of origin. She blinked her eyes and realized she wasn’t tracking well. “Wait, how did Royce…?”
“He forgot to duck,” Stacey said and offered her a hand to stand up. Tori gratefully took it and stood with her assistance, weaving slightly as blood rushed from her head, and she almost toppled over. Stacey’s hand helped steady her, and she looked around. Stacey continued. “The concussion wave took him out. Per rules, he’s banned for 72 hours now. Which sucks.”
“Why do I hurt so much?” She asked. “And where’s Shane?”
“Shane’s... kind of being held up at the moment,” Tyler answered quickly. “And you hurt so much because you did a half-gainer with a twist onto a pile of sharp rocks. Then your suit violently decompressed. Then your lungs collapsed. Somehow your character survived long enough for Stacey to slap a stasis pack on you to keep you from being eliminated.”
“Ugh,” she grunted and rubbed her ribs with a sore and stiff hand, silently thanking the stasis packs.
One of the best medical kits in the game was a stasis pack, which “froze” the body’s physical condition at a set level for a short amount of time. While it also prevented a gamer or Moderator from using it as an invulnerability shield as they played a level, it was excellent for critically-injured teammates. It allowed them to move a character who was practically dead to a place where they could be healed. Assuming, of course, the person wasn’t so far gone the game decided to depixelate them.
She’d once mocked Shane for his stasis pack addiction. Now, she’d be eating crow for the rest of her days.
“We have a much bigger problem,” she said and winced. Bruised ribs hurt, virtual or no. “That guy controlling the synapse pack? That was Gargoyle.”
“The guy with the five-million-dollar reward for capture?” Tyler’s eyes widened and he let out a low whistle. “What did he want with us?”
“I think he was just as surprised to see us as we were to see him,” she guessed. “I got him, though, but I don’t know how long it’ll be before he can access the game again. He was using the same exact avatar as the one my b–, uh, my friend eliminated him as during the Crisis takeover.”
“It’s okay to admit you have a boyfriend,” Stacey said. Tori’s cheeks began to grow heated.
“Your boyfriend issues aside, we have a bigger problem at the moment,” Michael said. “Your explosion wiped out around half of the synapses.”
“Good,” she muttered and began to slowly inspect her body as she kicked on one of her healing codes. Though she usually reserved these for emergencies, she was in too much discomfort to not use one now. The risk of them not recharging fast enough from use, should something else happen, was there. She knew and accepted the risk.
The code activated at her silent command and instantly she began to feel much better. The swelling in her hand disappeared after a few moments, and she began to wiggle her fingers happily. Her ribs began to heal and though the itching sensation drove her to distraction, they’d be better in the long run.
She nodded. “The synapses aren’t going to be a problem for a while then. Perfect. Those things really, really scare me sometimes.”
“Uh,” Tyler paused and looked away. “Tori, you took out about half of them. The other half...”
“They’re pushing into the station as we speak,” Stacey finished for him. “Shane’s stuck in the western side of the station, cut off from us. The gamers here are fighting for their lives against the furballs. Your explosion knocked you about two thousand yards through the air and you crashed down over here. By the west entrance. We picked you up and pulled you inside. Problem is, the explosion breached one of the northeastern walls. There’s a ton of furballs between us, Shane, and what I would call ‘safety.’” She finished the statement with air quotes.
“Dang it.” She closed her eyes. Her fault once more, and something she couldn’t help stop. Or could she? There was a thought. “One second.”
She opened her instant messenger display and immediately sent a query message to Leo, who she knew was waiting offline for her to text him via the hands-free device. Moments later, Leo answered. She scowled. She really wanted to see his face at the moment, and not the text-only screen, which had come up instead. She waited for a moment before she spoke, ensuring the link was stable and, more importantly, secure.
“We have a huge problem,” she began. As she started to say more, words popped up on her instant messenger.
You’re in Ganymede, came the text reply. Good. The tournament players are having the time of their lives with what you did.
“Say what?”
You did well, Leo wrote back. The contestants have stopped fighting among themselves and banded together. Perfect solution. Once the furballs are stopped, they’ll go back to eliminating one another. In the meantime...
“Oh,” she said. Of course. With the gamers concentrating on the furballs, they wouldn’t be able to attack her or her team members on accident. She could’ve smacked herself. It’d worked out better than even she could’ve planned for. “We ran into someone…who I think is Gargoyle, the fifth terrorist from Crisis. I eliminated his avatar but there’s no telling how long it’ll last.”
Be very careful if it’s him, he urged. I know the temptation to track him down is great, but focus on your assignment. The Nexus issue. We’ve been getting some strange feedback from within and it’s starting to make me a little nervous. Find the issue and, if you can, shut it down. If not, hop out and let me send in the tech army.
“Like I’d want to stop now,” she sniffed. “Okay, continuing the mission.”
Try not to enjoy the overtime too much, Leo typed and killed the communique. Tori stared at his last words for a second before she closed her IM.
“Overtime?” She asked in a low voice as she found herself staring at her team. She’d appeared to be talking to herself. However, they all knew what she’d been doing. They’d all used an IM before.
“We continue the search,” she said firmly, decision made. “The gamers are going to be concentrating on the furballs, which means open search. No more skulking around.”
“Good,” Tyler said as he brushed off some dirt from his outfit. The camouflaged body armor didn’t appear dirty to her. She shrugged. Appearances, even in a situation like this, were everything to most gamers. Even she was sometimes too vain about her appearance.
“Let’s go find that glitch,” Michael said with a nod. Tori, though, shook her head negatively. The others looked at her, confused. She straightened her shoulders and looked each of them in the eye defiantly.
“No more losing people,” she told them. “I don’t care if it’s for only 72 hours. Leo said something about overtime before he hung up. I get what he meant now. The less people we have available, the more ground we have to individually cover. More work for us all. So we’re going to save Shane first. Then, and only then, do we continue searching. Got it?”
“Man, I hate the fact the game won’t let you log off if it thinks you’re in a combat situation,” Tyler said. She nodded and grinned. She looked at the others.
“Ready?”
The group chorused an agreement. She smiled, her first real smile in forever.
“Then let’s go save my friend,” she told them.
* * *
Hundreds and thousands of two-foot-high furballs crowded into a narrow hallway of the station, all squeaking to each another in their high-pitched language. They were a seething mass of gray and black, waiting patiently for... something. Behind them, a larger creature loomed menacingly, his figure casting a long shadow over the furballs. However, despite their apparent readiness and eagerness to spill forth and kill everything in sight, they waited.
The AI code which controlled the furballs’ actions was countered by its central programming, which g
ave the furballs a higher degree of unpredictability due to their synapse. The central program, a symbiotic program designed to leech memory from their behavioral control programs, was a distant relative of the Chaos code and acted as such. The randomness in their approach, therefore, was the same as what propelled the games within The Warp.
Now, though, both programs had a problem. The synapse of the creatures had grown so large the AI code couldn’t reign in the randomness created by the symbiotic chaos program. On the other hand, the symbiotic program couldn’t violate the natural process of the AI code, which resulted in a stalemate. The furballs wouldn’t move until the problem was settled.
The system paused for the briefest of nanoseconds, thinking rapidly. While it could allow the members of the synapse pack to wander aimlessly, the probability within the core of the game dictated they’d launch a coordinated attack, thus negating the prime purpose of randomness within The Warp. However, since the system couldn’t figure out what the symbiotic program was going to do next, due to the chaotic factors involved, it couldn’t free up the restrictions on the AI code it was currently controlling. It pondered the possibilities for another moment, an eternity in computer time, before it kicked the issue to a higher control program.
This program, had already been alerted of the possible problem and had computed a solution. It fired back the proper response faster than the blink of an eye. The system looked over the binary set solution, agreed, and kicked it back to the AI and symbiotic programs.
Devastator Page 9
