by G Aliaksei C
The face I made must have been pretty funny - even Jim let out a robotic laugh. I didn’t think it was funny at all. In fact, it was plain rude. Picking out the most important question out of the pool I squinted at Inna.
“What happened with the Specter?”
“Everyone is dead. We had to blow the Gate.” She smiled at my grimace. “We evacuated everyone’s things before the fight. The transports have it all.”
One of the Jims looked at me. “Sorry Mr. Frost, I thought the convoy was automated.”
“Why not evacuate into the Gate? Why stay on this side?”
“The other side of the Gate was being sieged by Beasts. I think it was organized - they cut off our escape. Once we heard what you were doing out here, everyone agreed to fall back here as a last resort.” My pupils must have visibly dilated at the thought of other stealthed invaders, because she raised her hands again. “I really was the only survivor. Everyone is stored in the Respawn Point. Listen, I’m really sorry for breaking in….”
Her word faded, recording in my head but not processing well. Instead I focused on the condition that had been in a state of constant adrenaline overload.
I was, almost literally, programmed and conditioned to view people in two distinct groups - friends and enemies. Corporate were friends. Imari and Syndicate were enemies. I could sleep soundly when a Corporate was standing guard. I was thrown into a fit of killing rage when I saw an enemy. Very simple, very distinct responses: lay down my life for any friend; end the life of any enemy.
Outside of the absurd conditions created by The War, however, this programming didn’t work. I almost fell into a stupor considering what say to Inna. Rarus, for example, was a friend. She welcomed me into this world, she was kind and generous. Pessi, by connection, was also a friend. I would trade myself to save their lives, simply for that. The Shade was an enemy, as were the fanatics. I would willingly sacrifice myself to ensure their deaths.
But not only was death no longer permanent, but a middle ground appeared between the two extremes. Inna, someone I barely knew, who both helped me and proved a bystander to my death, was neither a friend nor enemy.
What did people do before The War?
What did I do before The War reached me?
I looked at Inna, my eyes finally focusing. She looked back up at me, silent, clearly noticing my return to sanity. For the first time I recognized just how oversized I was - at my two-ten meters I was a head taller than the armored suit before me. Yet I knew the smaller combatant was far more capable that I in my current state. Still, she was the one fleeing from her home, not me.
“Do… do you need help?” I offered.
Inna went into her own state of shock. For someone as ancient as her this shock took the form of very curiously curved eyebrows.
“Uh, yes, yes I do. I would appreciate a place to set up the regrow facility. Then we can help you pack and head for the nearest Gate.”
“You can, of course, take your time to regroup, but I will not be leaving.”
Those eyebrows now took the definite shape of sideways question marks. To emphasize the implications of my words a particularly massive thunder strike hit the nearest RAM-D. The weapon, quite well suited for this environment, sunk the energy into the tower below, uncaring and undamaged.
“You want to stay…” She gestured. “Here?”
“Yep. It’s perfect. Isolated and fun.”
“You know you’ll go bankrupt importing water without the nearest Gate, right? It’s days away, and space delivery is even more expensive. And what about New Year’s…”
“Hold up. Importing water? Why would I import water?”
It seemed one of us was missing some vital bit of information.
“Where do you get water to survive here?”
“At the pump?”
“The one by the Monument? It doesn’t work! There’s a permanent ‘Out of Order’ sign on it!”
“Not since I got here. It’s been working fine so far.”
“I probed the ground here a few years ago, there’s no water under us!”
I raised my hands. “There is now.”
“Unbelievable,” she said with some sort of disappointment, directed seemingly towards herself. “And you think you can survive out here? Without a Comfort Dome?”
“As I said, I have been fine so far.”
She shook her head, looking around. “I need to revive my people.”
“Anywhere is fine.”
Without any motion Inna disappeared. Somewhere in the cargo transport chain a door slammed shut, and an engine roared alive. A treated truck backed out of the group and drove somewhere orbitward, towards one of the gates in the wall. Some sort of oversized black container was locked securely on its back. A foam-concrete bot, some incredibly advanced version of what I had been using, jogged after.
“Jim…”
“Mr. Frost, I apologize, but there is nothing I could have done to stop her. The Lady of War has a factual reputation of single handedly suppressing multiple Class 7 citadels. Nothing in this base, including the RAM-Ds, can scratch her.”
“It’s alright Jim. Go back to perimeter control.”
I had breakfast, a shower, and made a round on my tank examining the repairs. The lighting storm did a number on the walls, leaving them scored and shattered. My foam-concrete bots were rushing around, closing up holes and cracks.
Orbitward of my bunker, Inna was setting up the Respawn Point. Her bots had dug a square hole and lowered the black container into it, building massive bunker-buffer atop, effectively burying the Point and shielding it from the surface with meters of the material. A tunneled stairway led down, into one of its sides.
Several people were already standing under the tunnel entrance, shielded from the falling ash. As I suspected they were wearing little more than casuals, lacking even simple deflector belts, so their decision to stay indoors was sane.
I parked my tank before the entrance and reached into the cabin. Under the stares of several men and women I pulled out stacks of clothes - armored undershirts, coats, pants and boots. The standard ‘Human’ variant of the gear was quite adjustable and genderless, fitting on me just as well as on them - a significant size variation.
Realizing what I was bringing they relaxed and started smiling. I let them take the stack off my hands as I stood in the doorway.
“Do we know you?” asked one of the women. Under the faceless helmet they could not tell who I was, the forehead extrusions not specifically indicating horns.
“Coffee…” I said in a terrible growl. They immediately started smiling.
“How’s withdrawal?”
“Better. You guys need anything?”
“Where can we get water and food?”
“Water is in the mess…” I remembered that a few days ago I moved the dispenser to my bunker. “In my bunker, over there. Water is also there, or you can go to the pump near the Monument.”
“The pump really works?” This seemed to matter to them more than clothes and food.
“Yes, the water tastes great too.”
“Amazing!” they said. “If you have water, you can survive.”
I nodded at the obvious and choosing not to continue exchanging pleasantries stepped away.
Next stop, Inna. Another of her bots had built a sort of shed where instruments and equipment were being set up. Inna, in full armor, was hauling a massive cylinder of dim liquid. What had to be over half a ton of the liquid held a fogged, motionless body. She was carrying the coffin-like tube, alone, holding onto its bottom with only her armored fingertips. I tried not to gawk at the blatant display of strength, the carrying power matching that of a small crane.
“What in the void is that!” I watched her set the cylinder down under the roof.
“That’s my combat body,” she said, throwing a tarp over the glass and making her helmet vanish. I was still amazed at her armor’s ability to perform that trick. Where did it go? How did it dis
appear like that? “I spend much of my time in this less expensive one, but sometimes, for championships and other expeditions,” - she tapped the star on her shoulder - “I need something more capable.”
“So you… move your Black Box into the other body and store this one?”
“Yep. That way I am not walking around with several billion credits of modifications and implants.”
I frowned at the pod, which apparently held more money than I could fathom, and shook my head. “I forgot to ask, but why were you near me when the fanatics decided to have a go at you? I doubt it was luck.”
“First, they are not fanatics. They are democrats.”
I scowled. The survival of the ancient, ineffective, and frankly disgusting system across the millennia displeased me terribly.
“Yeah,” Inna nodded at my expression of disgust. “They are just an extremist sect of the philosophy that runs the outer Rings. They believe everyone to be equal, and despise us for refusing to provide for weaklings, for accepting the strength of some over others. And, to answer your question, I followed you. You looked like a really confused and disoriented Corporate. I know from experience what first-time visitors of your kind act like on their first year - there’s rarely less than a dozen casualties.”
“So, what, Corporate come here to visit?”
“Vacations.” She seemed resolved to say no more.
“Alright, well, tell me if you need anything else.”
“Thanks Drake, your kind rarely acts as welcoming as you.”
I trusted Jim to stay on the lookout and decided that Inna would not try to sabotage my new home, so I returned to the lab under my bunker.
I had given up on trying to crack the code controlling Gems, so I began to read the scientific documents available on the civilian network. There was an incredible wealth of information here, and even some snippets of more modern technologies that the Corporation military clearly didn’t mind being public.
Good news, the Corporation was now an interplanetary empire spanning millions of star systems at the core of the galaxy.
Bad news, The War was still ongoing. I couldn’t figure out what form it had taken, but its existence was evident from the history of every species occupying the Rings.
Strange news, the Rings were the only place in the Corporate Block where non-serving aliens resided. This was derived from the same historical data. The Corporation would find an occupied world or series of worlds, wait for or cause a terrible disaster that reduced the species, forced them to sign away their existence and serve the military. The next generation had the option of refusing service. These civilians were the first and newest occupants of the Rings.
I closed the page in annoyance. All the available data told only about the Rings, and some about the history of different aliens before they arrived here. Nothing about the Corporation or The War. This version of history was clearly meant to be seen by the enemy - it had no information on technology, military power, social disposition or asset and colony placement. There was no mention to weapons, FTL travel methods, defenses, or any relevant technological breakthroughs.
In fact the entire thing was written as if the reader was not meant to have any understanding of high technology.
They were all living in a world they did not fully grasp. They were using proverbial toasters, but didn’t know how they worked, only how to use them.
My eyes lost focus, consideration for my full situation kicking in.
I knew, in terms of science, more than almost every occupant of these worlds. I could turn toasters into heat guns, and the locals would call it magic.
I decided that, despite my situation, things were well. I was seeing in a world of blind, as some poet, somewhere, sometime probably said.
4 : Nineteen Knights and the Queen of Death
Day 22
If wound pain is bad, post-gym muscle pain is good, headaches are bad, and heartache is generally good, then physical agony caused by overwork is quite undecided on its goodness, stuck somewhere between the sense of bodily capitulation before the task and an occasional sense of success.
I woke up groaning, the agony in my skull keeping me still. Through slightly open eyes I spotted something large moving nearby, offering me a cup. The contents of the mug turned out to be very, very sweet coffee. The sugar was absorbed by my system before the amalgamation even went down my throat, the starved nanites within my body jumping at the new material.
The red tint cleared from my vision and I looked at Jim. This frame was distinctly different from those I had seen before - it was clearly new, smaller, and of a different color scheme.
“New body?”
“Dispatch sent me a replacement for the one I lost to the Specter. How are you feeling, Mr. Frost?”
“Terrible. What happened?”
“You forced your flesh sack to keep you awake and functioning at full power for four days straight.” The face-screen flashed an analog smile, softening the words.
“Oh. That’s right. Did I finish what I was doing?”
“I doubt you would have allowed yourself to sleep if you were not done.”
“Bring me more of this stuff please.” I tapped the cup, and Jim ran out of the office. I rolled into a sitting position, frowned at the daylight outside the window, and tried to get up. It took two more cups of the substance, but I managed to hobble down to my lab and retrieve the product of my suffering.
I hit major jackpot in the form of a particular open scientific database. While most was generic scientific data gathered over the years, several sections were decorated by raw, unedited, honest-to-god Corporate blueprints, specifications and guides. I realized immediately why no one touched this data - much assumed the reader knew the basics of complex spatial mechanics. I found something for myself there, however - gravity manipulation, the science of which I understood well.
Stepping outside, I was greeted by a positively delightful sight. Most noticeable, aside from the weather, was the huge shimmering dome that seemed to cover the entire base. While light rain battered away at the outside, the inside remained dry and quite comfortable.
I gaped at the amazing spectacle. Six kilometers across, one kilometer tall, a near-solid field that allowed only wind and sunlight through into the suddenly comfortable area around the Monument. Four towers on unfolded legs sat near wall towers, sinking beams of blue into the inner side of the dome. Wind-raged downpour bashed away at the defense but the lid resisted and continued collecting energy. The dome gave scale to the vast territory I had claimed with the foam-concrete wall. The octagonal fence of cheap stone that I put up to mark my sixteen square kilometers of land was meant to be more of a visual deterrent than real protection. But now, in addition to mounting the threatening RAM-Ds, it served as a guideline for the energy screen.
I imagined how such a dome had to function, assembled a basic mathematical theory that would allow it, and looked around. Almost immediately I spotted the larger machine at the center of the field. It was wrapped and secured onto the Monument, making it seem like the obelisk had pyramid for a base. That module was the root of the dome, while the four towers in the distance were the generators of its strength.
I thought about the uses of such a dome in colonization. You wouldn’t need tons of building material for a closed environment if you could power up a generator and cover a whole chunk of land in comfort.
Why was there a Comfort Dome over my base? Had Inna’s people set this up?
The new buildings were a nice addition as well. They were significantly more colorful and interesting than anything I had built so far. Most were missing doors and windows, eyeless frames of future structures. Partially unloaded transports were scattered across the cluster of establishments.
“Mr. Frost,” - Jim waved from the roof of my house - “feeling up for a bit of exercise?”
“Sure, what do we have?”
“Three crawlers.”
The questions could wait. I had been waiting f
or another opportunity to try my hand on the plasma-throwing bugs. Jumping into my freshly repaired armor and fitting the helmet I snatched up the axe and rushed out, towards the wall.
Several Jims were there, waiting, silent rifles aimed at the distance. Beyond the dome, in the curtain of rain, I saw the advancing trio. All the crawlers had both functioning guns and seemed generally well-fed compared to the earlier invaders.
I began to secure a rope in preparation for decent off the wall.
“Drake.” Inna simply appeared to my side. Interestingly enough she didn’t seem to be wearing armor, or any other equipment on her casual overalls, which made me wonder how she could teleport. “Could you come over to our camp?”
“In a few minutes.” I tugged on the rope. “Hey, Inna, why did you guys set up the Comfort Dome?”
“That’s what I want to talk about. Where are you going?” Inna followed the rope down with her eyes, scanning the rain beyond the dome.
“Morning exercise!” I slid down the rope, quickly reaching the ground, and began to jog.
Having nearly forgotten how strong local winds get I struggled for a moment to gain footing as I stepped out of the dome. Finding a stable angle to walk under I began to advance.
Six plasma cannon barrels swiveled to look at me. I watched the glows grow as the cannons inhaled, and sidestepped. With minimal motion and energy expense my position shifted, and the six bolts, as one, passed me and smashed against the dome.
The crawlers, no longer hoping for a clean kill, waited for their guns to recharge, and began firing in series. Instead of dodging a massed blob every six seconds I now had to evade away from a constant stream of staggered fire. Finding this strategy to be equally ineffective, they once more amassed their fire, this time aiming at the ground around me.
This was bad because explosions were much harder to dodge than bolts. I began to run, getting just outside the fatal range of the impacts, and jumped. Six blue stars flashed past me, and a shockwave smashed against the back of my deflector. Like a cannonball I sailed across the remaining distance, gasping, trying to fill compressed lungs with air, and landed in the middle crawler’s deflector field.
