The Outlaw (Phantom Server: Book #2) (17 page)

Allow: Yes/No
, the command kept blinking insistently.

I pressed
Yes
.

The nanite colony is now controlled by the external neuronet. The range of your Piercing Vision ability has been increased to 150 ft.

You've received a new level!

A new unique quest chain is available: The Facets of Reality.

Step 1. Find a way to communicate with the neuronet that won't present any danger to your own mind.

“Zander, whassup?”

I was shivering. Too much information over these last couple of seconds.

Did this mean that some part of Liori's identity had survived, after all?

“Zander?” Foggs insisted, unable to get past me. I stood frozen in everybody's way. “What can you see in there?”

“The queen is dead,” I stepped aside, letting him through. “Novitsky, where's that antidote?”

Both the way the quest was phrased and my earlier experience with my “phantom twin” warned me against jumping the gun. I had to give this new development a good bit of thought once I'd rested. At the moment, I couldn't think straight from exhaustion. The best I could do was produce a simple and doable plan for the next fifteen minutes: we had to rescue Kathryn and that Rick guy, collect the loot and make ourselves scarce double quick.

I tried to focus on my surroundings. I peered around the cave, unable to shake off an old adage that seemed appropriate, for some reason:
God made all men different. Colonel Colt made them equal.

The cave was a blood-curdling mess of still smoldering stinking body parts, its walls pockmarked by bullets. The queen's carcass oozed venom.

“Vandal, you collect the loot. Pick up everything we can use. Foggs, I want you to help him. Novitsky, where the hell are you?”

I made my way to the cave's far end. The thick sheets of cobwebs had burned away, reduced to smoldering tatters. Kathryn and Rick hadn't been hurt much. The fire had singed their suits but it made no difference to them at that moment: both were unconscious and in Paralysis.

“Zander, I'm not sure the antidote will work,” Novitsky finally made his way to me, clinking some vials. “I extracted it from what's their name, Irakhs, didn't I? What's the chance of it being the same formula as the Daugoth neurotoxin?”

“I've no idea. Just do it. Take him first,” I pointed at the man.

Novitsky crouched next to him. “He's...” his voice broke. “He's awaiting respawn.”

Dammit!

I leaned over Kathryn. Only 10 pt. Life left!

“Pass me some metabolytes! Combat ones!” I snatched the tube syringes from him. A steel cuff on Kathryn's suit wrist was covered in small round sockets protected by diaphragms. I knew this system of emergency exo injection from Argus.

I clicked the tube's top into the socket and pressed hard, injecting the stimulants.

Got it. Kathryn's life bar quivered and began to grow.

“Did it work?” Novitsky demanded, anxious.

“It did.”

“Zander, mind if I go and see what it was that the queen used to heal her soldiers with? It might be some unique exo stuff.”

“Okay, but make it quick. I can manage on my own now.”

Novitsky dashed off to do more exobiology studies. I crouched next to Kathryn, monitoring her condition.

The debuff was still there. She remained paralyzed. I was a bit wary of injecting the Irakh-extracted antidote: Novitsky might be right saying it could do more harm than good. I just had to wait. Sooner or later the effect of the neurotoxin would expire but before it did, we'd have to support her by injecting combat metabolytes.

Vandal and Foggs had already searched the cave and were now rummaging through all the rotting junk the Daugoths had hoarded. For a novice player, that was a treasure trove of cargonite and miscellaneous weapons. I noticed a Dargian sniper's rifle like the one I used to have.

“Can I take a look?” I took it from Vandal and looked it over, then returned it to him. Although broken, it was still useful. With my level 5 in Mnemotechnics I could try to repair of even improve weapons.

“Take all the devices and spare parts you can find. Don't bother with cargonite: it's too heavy to carry and we have no one to sell it to here.”

“No way!” Vandal said, reluctant to leave any trophies behind. “We'll take as much as we can carry. I'm going to load up Novitsky too. Where is he, actually?”

“He's gutting the queen. Don't forget we still have to carry Kathryn. Actually, we need to change our gear. There're four combat suits here. The mercs' equipment,” I nodded at their bodies, “is so much better. Foggs? Did you say you wanted to open the Mechanic ability?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Then you'd better take Rick's suit.”

“Their suits are damaged!” Foggs flinched. “The helmets have holes in them. And then there's this slime inside...” he shuddered.

“At least they fit the life support cartridges we found in the rover. Listen to my advice: dump all the Dargian cargonite and place the mercs' suits in there instead. They'll come out squeaky clean. That's for the squeamish ones. I'll patch up all the holes later.”

“Okay,” I could see Foggs’ reasoning had gotten the better of his emotions. “Zander? Are
you
going to swap your gear?”

“Absolutely. I'll go back to the cliff where their exobiologist died. I could use his bioscanner.”

At that moment we both heard a short snapping sound followed by a shriek. We jumped to our feet, looking around.

“Novitsky!” I darted toward the queen's lifeless body and fired a burst at a spider that had crawled from under her. Too late!

Dammit!

Novitsky had collapsed. He didn't move. A large hole gaped in his chest, left by the regenerated mob's fierce blow. Amazement froze in his eyes. His hand clutched a vial of murky white liquid.

Vandal stopped. He crouched slowly and covered his head with his hands.

Foggs seemed to have turned into stone.

I had a lump in my throat. None of us could speak. We stood in silence, knowing his fate only too well. In two hours, he would come to at his respawn point — the one located in the slave drivers' camp!

“Shit!” Foggs invested all his pent-up fury in a hefty kick at the dead Daugoth. “I should have known!”

“You couldn't have noticed,” Vandal said hoarsely. “The mob was hiding underneath. Zander, shall we go back to the slave drivers' camp quickly? Our levels are good enough now.”

“What, carrying Kathryn?”

“But they'll torture him to death!”

“The camp is thirty miles across the mountains,” Foggs pointed out.

“There must be something we can do!” despair filled his eyes murky with pain, his heart demanding some immediate action.

“There is,” I said. “When Kathryn comes round, she can tell us where to find their ship. We aren't leaving Novitsky behind. That I promise.”

Vandal gulped but said nothing. He knew I was right.

That hurt. A lot. In any other gaming world, a respawn is a temporary inconvenience. Your partner goes missing for a while, then rejoins the group. Not here. Here you started to understand the true meaning of loss.

I didn't remove Novitsky from the group. That way he'd keep receiving XP.

Vandal nodded. Foggs turned round and silently walked off to change into new gear.

I crouched next to Novitsky and opened his inventory. I took the neurotoxins and the antidotes and replaced them with two stimpacks, a pulse handgun and a set of micro nuclear batteries. I also added a couple of food concentrates and some water in a flask. The slave drivers wouldn't be able to take any of it from him.

I just hoped he'd make it.

The crash site of the Exobiologists Clan raid group.

W
e got to the rover and took a break.

By the time we got out of the gorge, Kathryn’s paralysis debuff had worn off but she was still unconscious.

We decided to wait for her to come round. It was probably better than to start combing through the woods in search of the raid’s landing site.

It began to drizzle. Low clouds of ash enveloped the sky. You couldn’t really tell whether it was day or night in the constant twilight.

While Vandal and Foggs double-checked the area, I sat on a flat rock and opened my inventory to take a look at my recent discoveries. Now that we’d changed into the raiders’ suits we had plenty of life support cartridges. But we could have used a few more guns, that’s for sure.

We’d patched the dented suits with more nanites. The external neuronet was active but we hadn’t exchanged any data yet.

First off, I disassembled the broken technology scanner and removed the memory block to test it. Many of its chips had suffered fire damage; still we would probably be able to recover some of the information. The problem was, I had nowhere to copy it to. Having said that, how about my own mind expander?

Then again, I wasn’t really sure. The sheer volume of the data was impressive. What did they have there?

I opened the file. Oh wow. The Technologists Clan's complete database? Now that Argus was virtually non-existent, this was probably one of the few surviving copies!

Copy
, no doubt about it. And the technology scanner’s OS module, too!

I didn’t even pause to consider all of the consequences. Only when a sharp pain pierced my skull, I realized it was probably not such a good idea. Too late. The copying process had begun, sending my brain into overload.

I had to boost my metabolic processor. Gradually, I began thinking straight again.

So what do I do, stop the copying? No way. I might not get another chance.

I switched to background mode and took stock of my senses. The pain had subsided somewhat, replaced by an urgent sense of danger.

In the last few days, I’d developed a knee-jerk habit of scanning my surroundings at the slightest hunch, the way any other person would cast a wary glance around on hearing a suspicious noise. The difference was, I didn’t even have to betray myself by moving. The entire process took place in the recesses of my brain.

“And? What do you want?” I asked.

This was a stealthed Vandal trying to creep up on me. Couldn’t have found a better time to test their equipment!

“How did you notice me?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “I was invisible!” he materialized in front of me.

“I told you this was a test model. It only blocks visuals.”

“Ah, so you noticed my power imprint, then?” he demanded, inquisitive.

I nodded.

Vandal sighed. “Shame. At least now I know. I really thought you wouldn’t notice me. Never mind. I’ll go check on Kathryn.”

He headed for the rover, leaving me to struggle with a sudden bout of vertigo.

Diagrams of all sorts of machines flashed before my mind’s eye. My neuronets were in overload. My metabolic implant kept clicking in new cartridges, supporting my speeding metabolism as my brain’s energy consumption kept growing.

The world blurred, distancing, about to disappear. My mind was crumbling under pressure; my brain was failing to process the mass of data flooding it.

New skill available: Technologist. Accept: Yes/No.

I paused, then blinked my acceptance.

Now I felt a bit better. New messages began to pop up,

You have learned a discipline: Hand and Integrated Weapons Upgrade.

Level 2 of the Technologist skill available!

Permanent effect: +1 to Intellect.

New disciplines available:

Light Gear

Force Armor

Heavy Weapons

The list went on and on, its blazing script unfolding in the darkness enveloping my mind, then falling apart in a succession of symbols.

Enough! The copying process was finished but I wasn’t going to look into the files quite yet.

My mental command wiped out the crimson haze, bringing back the translucent icons of my interface. A new cluster of pictograms lurked in its corner.

The mnemonic load indicator began to shrink back into the green. I had a foul taste in my mouth. Now whenever I focused on a manmade object, my view was blocked by sheets of its data.

Automatic activation: Cancel. Always ask to activate.

The fog enveloping my mind began to clear. But what was Foggs doing here? He was sitting in front of me, pulse gun in his lap, casting wary glances around.

He noticed I’d come round and offered me a flask. I unclasped my helmet and greedily gulped some water down.

“Next time you decide to download some junk, you’d better tell us first,” he grumbled. “Didn’t you know the scanner was faulty?”

“It’s okay. How long have I, er... meditated?”

“An hour. Probably more.”

“Help me up,” I extended my arm as if nothing had happened. The data I’d copied into my mind expander was priceless, even though I’d only be able to use a fraction of it — as much as my current Technologist level would allow. The main thing was, I’d survived the download itself.

Vandal walked over to us. “Zander, Kathryn’s come round. She wants to talk to you.”

* * *

Kathryn stood by the rover’s open cargo ramp, waiting for me. Her visor was open. She nervously nibbled on a blade of grass. Me, I’d have thought twice before doing it but she probably knew better. She wasn’t a level 49 Exobiologist for nothing.

She wasn’t beauty pageant material but she was cute, with dark hair and a vague family semblance to Ingmud.

“Hi there,” I offered.

Her return glare betrayed mistrust. I could easily second-guess her questions: who was I, how had I gotten here and why had I bothered to rescue her.

“Hi,” she took in my level, my gear and my implants. Still, she didn’t seem to be able to work me out. “Have you been in the game long?”

“Three months. So that’s a thank-you, I suppose.”

“For you it’s a quest,” she said icily. “That's what one of your raiders told me. Is it true that my father’s alive?”

“Sort of. What if I tell you from the beginning?”

She listened to me without saying a word. She apparently had no idea of the destruction of Argus or of the arrival of Eurasia. Still, she didn’t bat an eyelid when she heard about it.

“So you’re supposed to deliver me to this Oasis, whatever it is,” she repeated coldly. “There was never much love lost between my father and myself. And this
hybrid
... I’ve nothing to do with him.”

“He’s not just any old NPC. His identity is based on your father’s neurograms. He worries about you!”

“See if I give a shit,” she snapped. “He can suffer all he wants. I understand you’ve got a quest to complete but sorry, I can’t help you there. If you think you can pull my strings, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m not a quest NPC!”

“Roger that,” I couldn’t say I was happy with her attitude but what could I do? Kathryn was a human player and made her own decisions. There was no way I could force her. “So what are you going to do now? Argus is dead. Eurasia won’t accept you.”

“Why not? Everybody needs a good exobiologist. Especially considering I won’t be coming empty-handed.”

“So you’ve got the artifact, then?”

“Not yet. But I will have. And you might actually help me.”

Did she think that the level gap between us gave her the right to treat me like dirt?

Quest update alert: Restoration of the Oasis.

Step 3. Help Kathryn to find the artifact capable of creating an oasis of life on board a space station.

Reward: unknown, varies.

Declining or failing this will not result in your being fined.

Accept the quest update: Yes/No.

I lingered. “I suggest you drop your airs. We all have plenty on our plates without you. As for the quest, that’s not a problem. You don’t have to go back to your father if you don’t want to. I can show him the logs. It’s good enough.”

It didn’t look as if we could find common ground. On one hand, I could understand her. Had a player arrived with the task of taking me back to Jyrd, I’d have sent him packing too.

“All right... Zander. How about a deal?” she suddenly changed her tune. “I don’t think I can do it on my own. Help me to find Genesis. In return I’ll go back with you to the station to see this... hybrid. This way you can close your quest and get the reward. And after that, I'll sort it out somehow.”

My interface kept blinking with the message,

Accept the quest update: Yes/No.

“That’s better,” I blinked my acceptance. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. Were there only six of you in this raid?”

“There were eighteen of us.”

“What happened to the others, then?”

“Respawned.”

“Who did it, the spiders?”

“No. The dinosaurs,” she perched herself on the edge of a deformed crate. “We had three rovers. This was considered a safe location... smooth sailing.” “Some Tergans fell on us completely out of the blue. Now I understand it was all because of those orbital strikes. We’d seen some flashes on the horizon before they attacked. We were worried of course but not worried enough to send any recon probes. It could have been Dargians fighting or testing some weapons. Then we saw some clouds of ash covering the sky. We stopped and decided to investigate, after all. Just as we began scanning their communication frequencies, these dinosaurs came in, flying low. Their wings were burned, their wounds were fresh.”

She paused, then went on, “Tergans are extremely dangerous. When they hunt they use their Venomous Spit which eats through any armor,” she began to expand. “We didn’t stand a chance. They destroyed two of the rovers on the spot. I managed to bring mine here. We left it and tried to take cover in the gorge, thus triggering the spiders. That’s basically it.”

“We saw the Tergans. We too had a close shave. How about your ship?”

“It’s fine. Well-hidden, too. You’ll never find it without me.”

She sounded all businesslike as if she really didn’t care about her raid and the global event unfolding around us.

Okay. If that’s the way she wanted it.

“Tell me more about this artifact,” I said. “Where is it? Why would you need a drilling rig and a technology scanner? Come on, spit it out. I’m not going to jump into anything blinkered.”

She paused. “Genesis is dangerous,” she finally said. “We weren’t going to disturb it. All we wanted to do was scan it and build a copy to look into it properly so that we could come up with something similar.”

“It’s underground, isn’t it?”

“Yes. This location has a unique dungeon that used to house the Founders’ science lab. A thousand years ago they sealed it and promptly forgot about it.”

“Why?”

“Can’t tell you. Scriptures say nothing about it.”

“D’you mean we need to mop up the dungeon?”

“Not even. All we need to do is go back to my ship. I have another rover there ready for action. I know more or less where to look for the artifact. We’ll use seismic sensors to pinpoint the main laboratory’s exact location. All we'll have to do is drill a hole and lower the scanner down. That’ll allow us to create a detailed copy of the artifact. Not brain surgery, is it?”

“If you don’t consider the mobs’ spontaneous migrations.”

“You’re right,” she admitted. “There’s always the risk of that.”

“Considerable risk, I’d say. Which brings us to my last term.”

She struggled to remain indifferent. “Which is?”

“There’s a respawn point not far from here. It’s controlled by slave drivers,” I showed her the video made by the recon drone. “There’re no defenses left there worth mentioning. Before we get out of here, I want to use your ship to storm the camp and rescue some prisoners.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s that got to do with you?”

“They’ve got my friend. This is the quickest way to get him out. Don’t you care about your raid members? I’m sure they’re all there now stuck in cages like circus monkeys!”

I got the impression she didn’t really care. Still, she didn’t argue.

“Deal,” she nodded. “Once we locate and scan the artifact, we can go check on the Dargians and get the hell out of here.”

“And after that, we go to the station,” I added.