Chapter Two. Ancient Laboratory
THE MESSAGE had long since disappeared from the screen, leaving me to stand and digest the information. I was about to meet a living member of the Relict race, awoken now after many long centuries of slumber! To be honest, I was feeling very anxious deep down. After all, I didn’t know how the ancient and probably very powerful entity would react when they realized that a member of a totally different race had taken it upon himself to refit and wear a Listener Energy Armor Suit with no authorization and was now posing as a Relict. The station director would almost certainly not be pleased to meet that impostor. Although... who really knew the psychology of this long-extinct race? Perhaps the Relict would in fact be so happy at the chance to return to active life after many thousands of years dormant that they would reward me with the knowledge and technologies of their kind? I’d like to believe that...
“Captain, it’s no longer a vacuum out here!” Space Commando Eduard Boyko’s voice tore me from my pensive state. “My barometer is reading zero point seven nine PSI and rising fast!”
“That’s to be expected,” I reassured Eduard and all the others. “I just received word from the Relict base that everything inside the forcefield is going to be filled with a breathable air mixture to prepare for the laboratory personnel to come out of suspended animation. That seems to also be the reason we now have a green zone here on the frigate. But don’t get ahead of yourselves, let your guard down and take off your helmets just yet. For starters we have to test whether the composition of the air mixture will be breathable to creatures other than Relicts.”
“Already checked, captain!” Gerd Mauu-La Mya-Ssa the Medic reacted at once. “The gas analyzer is showing oxygen twenty-five percent, nitrogen seventy-five percent. No toxic admixtures detected. That is just right for Miyelonians, but people and especially Geckho might experience mild oxygen intoxication!”
I figured our physician was being overcautious because slightly high oxygen concentrations were not the least bit problematic for humans. What mattered was that it would be possible to breathe. If, of course, the station was able to completely fill the entire bubble. We needed the pressure to be fifteen times higher at least. But when the atmosphere in the station and beneath the forcefield did become breathable, and the temporal capsules with the awoken personnel opened, I’d have a more serious problem on my hands: the station director and my required visit with him. I would not be able to refuse, I had to go. The shuttle could fit six players, and the right thing to do would be to show the Relicts right away that I had a mixed crew containing members of several races.
“Attention, team! The following crewmembers will be coming with me to the station: the Jarg, Eduard Boyko, Basha Tushihh, Tini and Eeeezzz 777. Do not bring heavy weaponry and overall, you are to be on your best behavior — we will be guests on the station, and uninvited ones at that. We meet at the shuttle.”
“Would you perhaps have any valuable advice for this important meeting?” I asked my spiny Analyst with hope. But the Jarg answered through the Universal Translator that, for the time being, he had insufficient information about Relict society to reach any conclusions. And at that (here I’m quoting the Jarg word-for-word):
“Nearest planet to us. Can be reached on thruster. Mass good for to live. Humans. Miyelonians. Geckho. Meleyephatian. Jarg. Construction colony under dome without atmosphere and get replacement part frigate. Suitable star. Lots of light. Plants can be grown. From emergency seed kit.”
I couldn’t tell if the Analyst was making a serious suggestion, or that was just Jarg humor. In any case I told him that colonizing distant planets was of course a challenging and honorable endeavor but, for whatever reason, I imagined my path in the game that bends reality somewhat differently.
Training skill increased to level two!
The pop-up message reminded me that I had yet to take my last possible new skill. It was of course a pity, but I would have to figure it out after meeting the director of the science lab.
My Gunner piloted the shuttle, and the Meleyephatian’s confident and professional maneuvers immediately made it clear he had a wealth of experience operating small vessels. I might have managed as well, because I didn’t see any challenges with steering the shuttle — it had just a simple yoke and one lone button to activate the antigravity thruster. But I’d have spent three times as long turning and flying around all the spindles sticking out of the station that were now blocking our way. By the way, the laboratory itself had completed its transformation and was now three large spinning rings each five hundred feet in diameter, all strung onto a thousand-foot long axis. The station now was very reminiscent of the Mechanoid Spatial Cutter, though it was about fifty times larger.
“Over there! Look, they’re opening an airlock for us!” Basha Tushihh pointed to a triangular gap that had just appeared in the station’s hull.
Eeeezzz 777 turned the yoke rakishly which made the shuttle spin on its axis while turning, fitting us snugly into the little hole.
“Internal airlock № 4. Before opening door to laboratory interior, make certain the pressure has equalized!” read a faintly visible message on the metal wall in Relict symbols.
I didn’t recognize all the glyphs, but I guessed the unknown ones practically immediately. Maybe my Relict language level was high enough to do that, or maybe it was evidence of my first perk in Astrolinguistics, which allowed me to comprehend the written word at an accelerated rate.
Scanning skill increased to level sixty-eight!
Also, I activated the Scanning icon automatically so I would know what my group could expect behind the still closed doors. There was a short corridor there and, behind it, some kind of hub from which you could enter a central tunnel that pierced straight through the whole station.
“The artificial gravitation has turned on,” Tini said aloud, although every one of us could already feel it.
We came out of the shuttle and stopped in front of a locked door. A minute passed, then another. Nothing changed the whole time. Then I saw a message on the internal surface of my helmet:
“Listener, we are experiencing technical difficulties. One of the power circuits has failed to activate. You may enter the station through airlock № 3 or wait until the technician awakens to rectify the malfunction and open the door from the inside.”
What? The Relicts, who my contemporaries considered just about the height of technological sophistication, also suffered technical issues just like humans? I couldn’t hold back the smirk and told my companions:
“The station security system is saying there’s some kind of malfunction, the doors aren’t opening. It says we should either wait for the technicians to awaken or go a different way. I don’t want to get back in the shuttle though... Tini, try and open the door with your usual methods. Actually... Wait a second! I see the problem.”
Telekinesis skill increased to level three!
Machine Control skill increased to level one hundred six!
I didn’t even know which of my abilities had forced the button on the other side of the wall to go down, stuck after thousands of years of inactivity. Maybe a combination of Telekinesis and Machine Control, given the game system gave them both a boost. Regardless, the metal door slid silently downward and we stopped in the doorway, peering into the dark and illuminating the walls with our flashlights. Seemingly the station personnel had yet to emerge from their slumber, given the lights weren’t even on.
And then I felt the floor go out from under me! I had to quickly turn on my magnetic boot soles, but that didn’t help one bit — as it turned out the floor was made of ceramic or plastic, and my spacesuit boots wouldn’t stick at all. I was saved from an awkward flight in weightlessness by Eduard Boyko, who managed to grab his floating captain by the foot. The Space Commando himself had turned on his antigravity jetpack and was using it to govern his position in space.
“No lighting. Artificial gravity has failed. Is this supposed to be happening?
” I asked the artificial intelligence, already expecting a negative response.
“Listener, we are currently experiencing power supply issues. Not all circuits are receiving power. Opening the station has discharged the batteries, which turned out to have critically low power. Below projected figures. There is not enough power to activate the subatomic reactor. Possible cause: long downtime or long-distance jump. Finding solution.”
For the second time in a short while, my opinion of the Relict race’s technological sophistication took a serious blow. Although it was probably naive to expect all the equipment to be working perfectly after tens of thousands of years inactive. By the way, I caught a familiar term in the security program’s response — “subatomic energy reactor.” Was that not the same kind of power supply required by the Mechanoid Spatial Cutter?
Just to be safe, I asked:
“Should I wait for a technician? Or can I fix it myself?”
But no answer followed. We stood around for a bit and headed down the corridor, trying to walk cautiously because the gravitation was kicking on and off repeatedly. Soon we reached the central hub I’d seen on the diagram. The beams of our flashlights pierced through the darkness, revealing Relict symbols blanketing the walls. I read the text and immediately translated for my companions:
“Residential unit two... First circle... Space observation lounge... Pyramid contact hall... Long-term contemplation room. I wonder what that could be? Archive? Office?”
“Maybe the bathroom?” Eduard Boyko suggested an option, and the unorthodox explanation gave me a big laugh.
The gravitation flipped off yet again and, for a second, the lights even flickered — seemingly the station’s programming was still trying to get the power supply back online. But again to no avail. A new message came in right after that:
“Listener, your location on the map is not being accurately assessed. Seeking possible cause of positioning error.”
“No, it is correct!” I assured the security system. “I opened the locked door of airlock number four and have entered the station.”
Danger Sense skill increased to level ninety!
A premonition of terrible misfortune pricked my chest. I must have just made a crude error and lost the security system’s trust. Most likely, it was extremely out of character for Relicts to break into places and enter restricted areas without permission. A troubling pulsating message appeared on my helmet screen:
“Listener, state your hexadecimal identification code at once or you will be terminated! Seven. Six. Five. Four...”
Well god damn! I didn’t wait for the countdown to end. I didn’t want to know the potential consequences I might suffer for disobeying the order. Instead I quickly took my Prospector Scanner out of my inventory. Not fussing around with the settings (I just couldn’t be bothered), I took out a Geological Analyzer tripod and unfolded the metal legs just as the countdown reached “two.”
Scanning skill increased to level sixty-eight!
Another bout of weightlessness and awkward tumbling down the dark corridor. But this time everyone took off except for the Meleyephatian Gunner, who had splayed his appendages and propped himself up on the walls. The Jarg clumsily somersaulted right in front of me, a six-legged armadillo in a space suit glimmering in the beams of our flashlights. After that, the Space Commando slammed into me in his heavy exoskeleton armor — Eduard’s jetpack must have had poor electromagnetic shielding.
Feeling all tense inside, I was waiting for the end of the countdown and my subsequent “termination.” But a few seconds passed, then ten more, and nothing happened. The feeling of impending doom gradually receded. Seemingly, I had managed to knock out the mobile laboratory’s automated security system. I wasn’t sure if it would restart soon and demand I identify myself again, or if the crisis was over. But now I needed to explain myself to my team. And especially to the part of the crew back on Tamara the Paladin — the combat alert was sounding on the starship because its on-board computer interpreted the powerful EMP as an attack, and they were all lost in guesses, polluting the airwaves with discussion and guesses about what triggered the alert. And for the record, all of them were very far from the truth.
I grabbed onto a ledge on the wall, finally stopping my somersaulting and fixing my position in space. After that I started to explain what had happened to my crew, not hiding the truth one bit: the program in control of the ancient laboratory had first let us inside, then unexpectedly demanded I tell it some identification code, threatening to kill me if I didn’t. When suddenly...
“Help! I’m suffocating!”
A voice full of despair and suffering rang out in my head. Based on the way Eeeezzz 777 the Gunner froze and started listening, I could tell the Meleyephatian also heard the mental cry for help. By the way, my Gunner had never told me he had the psionic gift. That seemed to confirm the commonly held belief that most Meleyephatians could do psionics.
“My husband, someone on the station is calling for help.” The voice in my headphones belonged to Minn-O La-Fin, my wife had also heard the rescue request.
“Help! I’m completely exhausted. There’s no air. I am in a locked temporal capsule... I cannot escape... My consciousness is fading due to lack of air...”
“Knock on the wall of your capsule so the rescue group can find you and come help!” the Gunner suggested, but I had a more foolproof method.
I opened my Prospector Scanner and looked at what it had just detected, trying to find markers for living beings. Okay, there is a big group of markers. That must be my frigate. By the way, the level-107 Miyelonian had to have been Ayni. She must have come back into the game. But the Medic was insistent that Gerd Ayni would die after entering the game. He must have been mistaken. Although I couldn’t think about her now. Here is my group inside the station. But then what is this lone marker on the map?
Relict. Level-209 Technician.
The alien marker was the only one — apparently, on the whole ancient station. Its sole remaining inhabitant. Seemingly, this was the individual the security system was bombastically referring to as “station director.” Now if only I could figure out where they were.
Cartography skill increased to level eighty-six!
A nasty idea popped into my head — that we should “not get there in time,” and thus save me a difficult conversation with the station director. But I quickly dismissed it, oriented myself in the confusing diagram of corridors and pointed my companions down a long dark tunnel:
“That way! Second corridor on the left. There’s a living Relict in there! We have to hurry! There’s still time to save them!”
Chapter Three. Witness of the Past
HOW UNUSUAL it was to move without stable footing beneath me. I was floating awkwardly in weightlessness, constantly bashing my limbs on the metal walls, crossbars and things of unknown purpose sticking out of the walls. Latching onto these ledges, I would pull myself forward and propel my body on a short flight. Next to me, Space Commando Eduard Boyko was learning to move in a similar fashion and cursing softly. He had nearly put the Jarg in the grave, first colliding with our Analyst twice in midair, then slamming the space armadillo into a wall with his heavy exoskeleton armor. Only on first glance might one think mass had no meaning in zero gravity. Oh it did, you better believe it did! We all in fact weighed nothing, but mass still defined our kinetic energy and momentum. And when the featherweight Jarg collided with an object fifty times heavier, in full accordance with the law of conservation of momentum, the “armadillo” was sent flying violently! A second “center of mass” was Basha Tushihh — in the limited space, his chaotically shifting carcass stuffed into a half-ton exoskeleton suit threatened huge problems for anyone that got in the Geckho’s way.
After covering myself in lumps and bruises (and that while wearing good armor!), I calmed down slightly and decided to think with my head. Why the hell was I trying to imitate some tightrope-walking clown with my low Agility? I needed to play to my chara
cter’s strong suits! After all, my new Telekinesis skill basically allowed me to move objects with my mind. Could I move myself? As it turned out, not directly. But I was able to order immobile well-anchored ship parts (for example, a loop handle or a metal wall tile) to come my way. Of course, that didn’t tear the items from their moorings, and they didn’t come my way. I was instead “pulled” toward them. But at any rate, I was moving.
Telekinesis skill increased to level four!
Telekinesis skill increased to level five!
Great! Two skill-ups in a row! I had finally thought up a way of moving relatively quickly in these unusual circumstances. Although Tini was already a hundred and thirty feet ahead of me, and I was of course still pretty far from his speed. The kitten had adapted fairly quickly to the zero-G conditions and had broken out ahead of the pack. However, we were all behind the eight-legged Meleyephatian, so gracefully pushing from wall to wall in weightlessness, as if it were the natural way he’d gotten around since birth. Eeeezzz 777 was first to reach the second branch off the corridor and disappear around the corner.
“Locked door here!” came our Gunner’s whistling voice. “No keyhole. And no panel nearby that might open a door. Captain, what should I do? Break it down?”
Most of the group, including myself, was hopelessly behind Eeeezzz 777, so we couldn’t see the obstacle the Meleyephatian was describing. Only Tini was anywhere close. He would soon reach the second turn, but nevertheless the kitten needed about thirty more seconds. And that half minute delay could easily cost the Relict their life.
Aces High (Reality Benders Book #6) LitRPG Series Page 3
