Edge of Reality Read online

  Whatever was happening to him? I stood up and warily approached him. Was it some involuntary reflex? If he'd indeed logged out, his avatar couldn't possibly have any!

  Charon's hand twitched and clenched into a fist. Once again I tried to shake him awake. He didn't respond.

  * * *

  I returned to the terminal and continued studying the network.

  The metabolic corrector and reflex enhancer were more or less clear. The former was basically a microscopic biochemical factory. It pumped your blood through, cleansing it from anything toxic and enriching it with various beneficial (or so they thought) substances and formulas. The implant drew heavily on your body resources but it also came with its own supply of metabolite cartridges. In order to refill them, special sockets were implanted under your skin; the formulas themselves were produced locally available in disposable tube syringes.

  This was getting interesting.

  The reflex enhancer consisted of nanites capable of forming artificial neural tissue inside the body. It was implanted by injecting special nanomachine colonies which then developed into a supplementary neural impulse transmission system. Working together with the mind expander, the nanites ensured knee-jerk reactions especially vital for pilots who had to implement their combat decisions swiftly and efficiently.

  Oh well.

  The easy way wasn't an option. A hasty and cheap decision could become a dead end. It was pretty obvious I had to opt for the best. Still, the best prices flickered an exorbitant amount of zeros.

  What if I was trying to overcomplicate it?

  I checked the information once again, then asked myself the question: where had they come from to begin with, these implants? And why did xenomorphs also seem to have them?

  The answer wasn't hard to find.

  Apparently, all the current technologies were based on the discoveries of the so-called Founders. This was the name given to the mysterious civilization that had built both these stations and the enormous spaceships I'd glimpsed drifting through space.

  I stopped reading and cast a glance over at Charon. Still unconscious. I then tried to ponder over what I'd just learned.

  Normally I never tried to purposefully look into any backstory of game worlds. I knew only too well that all the information I would need would be offered to a player at the right moment in the game in an impressive and well-measured manner. The Phantom Server didn't seem to be so simple. The memory of my alternative start was a prime example of the mess I'd found myself in instead of a colorful full-dimensional introduction demo.

  I stood up and paced the room, then took a swig of water and went back to the terminal.

  I was buzzing with too many questions. I knew instinctively that my survival depended on my finding all the answers. Here, no one was going to offer me a helpful prompt when the going got critical.

  * * *

  I spent the next few hours studying the Phantom Server world.

  I had pieced together some shreds of unrelated information about the Founders, their history and technology, that I'd amassed from various sources. This was the impression I finally got:

  The only thing known for sure was that the Founders weren't humanoid. We could only speculate about the location of their home star system. Without a shadow of a doubt, the creatures had attained some incredible development before they had been finally confronted with what must have seem like an unsurmountable problem: the light barrier.

  This had been quite an interesting plot twist on the part of the scriptwriters. Normally, all game worlds solved this problem simply by introducing the idea of hyperspace and the so-called warp drives. So easy — and so utterly unscientific. This way you simply jumped to whatever star system you fancied, be it hundreds of light years away.

  I kept reading.

  The Founders had apparently discovered hyperspace too. After studying it, they'd arrived at the conclusion that it allowed you to transmit any structured signal, complexity no object — but not a material body.

  It's well known that a civilization locked within its own solar system is doomed. The Founders must have realized this too — which was why they'd come up with a rather unique solution to the problem. They had built automated interstellar ships and sent them on their never-ending subluminal journey. Traveling from one star system to the next, these robotic explorers studied planets looking for available resources, then used them to build automated stations equipped with special biological reconstruction chambers and instant interstellar communication systems.

  So gradually they'd developed their own intergalactic network. The Founders had forbidden their robotized ships to mine for resources on already-inhabited planets, leaving them to explore asteroid belts and barren worlds in order to build more automated ships equipped with biological reconstruction chambers. It enabled the Founders to travel to stars by transmitting the neural matrices of their identities to any station of their choice. And once they lost interest in any particular star system, they simply traveled on.

  All this had happened millions of years ago. The Founders' expansion had left countless artifacts behind — all the abandoned stations, planet and asteroid bases, mines and shipyards — and their broken interstellar network. Whatever had happened to its creators, whatever had caused the destruction of most of their technogenic facilities, remained a mystery.

  Whew.

  It had taken me quite some time to puzzle this picture together out of various bits of fragmentary evidence.

  Phantom Server: quest completed!

  A new global plot activated!

  You've received a new level!

  You've received a new level!

  New quest available: Phantom Server 1. The Mystery of Hyperspace.

  Find one of the interstellar network installations and try to work out whether it's still functional. Does the network's central server, known as Phantom Server, still exist? Is it true that it used to control and coordinate all of the Founders' AI ships and stations?

  Two new levels! This wasn't bad at all. I'd had no idea that my humble attempt at research would be rewarded so generously.

  The plot definitely thickened.

  * * *

  While I was at it, I decided to spend a bit more time looking into the current state of affairs.

  This time I had to sieve through tons of information trying to separate grains of truth from all sorts of rumors and fiction.

  So. This star system only consisted of two planets.

  The planet Darg was similar to Earth in many respects. I'd already met some of its inhabitants so I'm not going to dwell on them for the time being.

  The planet Wearong was a brown gas giant inhabited by creatures which were probably best described as some sort of squid. I studied pictures of them, curious. They looked fragile but were in fact highly dangerous, having evolved in a high-pressure, low-temperature environment amid fierce air currents and toxic methane clouds. Which was why Mother Nature had equipped the Wearongs with a sealed shell capable of withstanding a broad range of extreme elements, including vacuum.

  The Wearongs lived in the upper atmosphere levels and used organic jet propulsion to move around. Their bodies produced electricity which they used for both attack and defense. The screenshots available with articles showed enormous almost lightning-like discharges that the Wearongs used to shoot down Dargian spaceships.

  The third civilization — the Kamresh — had originated and evolved on the gas giant's satellite. Judging by the images, the Kamresh possessed an exoskeleton which made them extremely resistant. They looked very much like our mole crickets and lived deep inside rock labyrinths that riddled their little planetoid.

  Now it was time to turn to the Dargians.

  They were the main local opposing force.

  Their development was quite interesting. I downloaded one of the videos taken from Darg. You wouldn't believe it but one of the Founders' stations had drifted over to the planet's orbit. On the picture it looked like an eno
rmous sullen moon taking up a good one-third of the sky. Add to this the station's two automatically activated orbital power elevators: two shafts of phantom energy sliding along the planet's surface, sucking in anyone who dared to enter its glow and beaming them up on board this enormous technogenic artifact.

  My throat rasped. I took another swig of water and went on reading.

  No wonder the Dargians had developed the cult of the Heavenly Guardian. While technically still living in the Dark Ages, they had gained access to board a rather well-preserved station of an incredibly advanced civilization. Imagine the impact it had had on their own progress?

  The Technologists clan tended to believe that at the time, some of the ancient AI modules on board the station had still been functioning. Upon reaching maturity, each Dargian was supposed to enter the "phantom light". Some were killed by it while others received precious gifts from the Heavenly Guardian, like implants (I'd already known from experience what this felt like) and an incredible wealth of knowledge, while yet others died of radiation sickness. All this had lasted for hundreds of years.

  This had allowed the Dargians to learn about the nature of the Universe. Over time, they had managed to restore a dozen of the Founders' large ships and discovered nine more stations — all this purely thanks to the technologies they'd adapted. They hadn't invented anything themselves, but they had enslaved the two other civilizations. They cybergized both the Wearongs and the Kamresh, using these sturdy alien creatures to work at the most dangerous and remote locations in deep space.

  Today, the Dargians' science was a grotesque mix of borrowed knowledge and medieval mysticism. Their view of the universe was bigoted and aggressive, and their society was a divisive feudal system. With all this, they had become apt space travelers and decent technicians capable of using ancient devices.

  There you go. Three alien civilizations against a still-inexperienced gaming community.

  I rose and walked around the room, stretching my numb legs. I'd love to know how humans had gotten into the local picture.

  * * *

  I sat back at the terminal. Seeing as I'd already started, I might just as well do everything at once.

  According to the Phantom Server's official story book, the First Colonial Fleet — headed by cruisers from the Neurus Corporation — had arrived in the Darg System five years ago after a long and enduring journey at subluminal speeds.

  Humans had no idea of the Founders or their civilization. Thirty spacecraft and ten cryogenic platforms carrying hibernated astronauts had left the Solar system in search of a planet with a suitable living environment.

  The fate of the First Colonial Fleet had been tragic. The Dargians had attacked it as soon as it had entered the system's space. A large-scale battle had lasted seventy-two hours. Only a few Earth craft had survived it: a badly damaged Titan — the corporation's flagship — two freighters, one cryogenic platform and lots of rescue capsules.

  The Dargian fleet had suffered some irreversible losses as well, including all their large craft. Still, that couldn't have changed anything. Tens of thousands of human colonists had been killed. The survivors had been forced to seek shelter on one of the Founders' stations nearby.

  The flagship had held out for two more days, covering the retreat of the rescue capsules and the damaged freighters. After that, the Wearongs (whom the Dargians used as some sort of living aerospace fighter craft) had destroyed the ship's defense equipment, allowing Kamresh assault groups to board the helplessly drifting ship.

  Judging by the story, the flagship, radiation-ridden and mauled by the reactor collapse, was still drifting through space amid the debris.

  The surviving colonists had boarded the station. The space battle had abated, proving to be only the beginning of a streak of hardships that followed.

  In the five years that had passed since then, the players' community had managed to reclaim and restore three decks of the mammoth structure which had received the name of Argus. They had partially restored its defense systems and repaired certain segments of the infrastructure and docking facilities.

  According to the Technologists clan, we'd only scratched the surface of studying the Founders' legacy. One or two percent at most. Around us lay a virgin land awaiting exploration: tens if not hundreds of thousands of locations complete with mind-boggling technologies and mysterious artifacts waiting for their pioneers.

  The Dargians had lost control of their star system's space. Their remote settlements had been destroyed during the Kamresh and Wearongs' mutiny. Both now acted as separate forces.

  And finally, the Outlaws.

  According to human survivors living on Argus, the Outlaws were traitors, criminals and renegades. But if the story book were to be believed, they were mainly the survivors of a damaged cryogenic platform that had drifted away toward the asteroid belt, allowing the crew to take shelter in the ancient mines and capture the Dargians' mining bases.

  The Outlaws believed that the Corporation had abandoned them. They didn't recognize the Argus' authorities and refused to abide by their laws, guided only by their own convictions and survival needs.

  This time my sieving through this wealth of information hadn't brought me any more levels. And still it had been quite an insightful and — hopefully — useful read.

  Gradually the Phantom Server was taking over my mind, sinking me into its depths. One thing I knew for sure: this world was about to become my environment for the years to come, at least.

  * * *

  When I finally couldn't read any more, I decided to stretch my legs and go for a walk. I needed to study the lay of the land and see if I could do some farming and leveling up somewhere. I had to earn my living. There was no way around it.

  The thought of selling the ship — which was formally my property — bothered me. This deal could solve a lot of problems, allowing me to start leveling my char properly and promptly. Still, there was also an alternative route I had so far not wanted to dismiss. Charon was an excellent pilot. If only he came back into the game, together we could do a lot. True he'd still be obliged to wear his slave collar while at the station, pretending he was my "property". I could see now why the local population hated xenomorphs. They were still smarting from the death of the colonial fleet and the conquest of the station which humans had had to wrestle from the xenomorphs one deck at a time, losing countless lives.

  I had two hundred credits left on my account.

  I walked along the wall skirting the market blocks, my eye searching for any low-level players in the crowd. But the rare passersby looked too important and standoffish — not the type who'd bother answering a newb's questions.

  Never mind. I'd work it out myself.

  I needed to get some life support cartridges for my armored suit as well as a few micro nuclear batteries. They were pricey. I might end up spending my last pennies on them. Still, the first stage of the game was always the most difficult.

  I soon came across a shop I needed.

  A Wide Choice of Exo and Consumables.

  I walked in. The inside of the shop was gloomy and dimly lit. Not a single hologram in sight. Its walls were lined with shelves displaying glass jars with symbionts floating in a yellowish liquid. A separate stand held copies of life support cartridges.

  With a hiss of compressed air, a door opened. A vendor shuffled toward the counter and leaned against it, looking up at me. He didn't look well: stooping, almost doubled up, with sunken eyes and flabby cheeks. "How can I help you?"

  "I need some life support cartridges."

  "You don't need any exo, do you?"

  "I might. Not now, though."

  He glanced at my gear. 'The batteries are fifty credits. The cartridges a hundred each."

  Too expensive. Without saying a word, I turned round, about to walk out.

  "Wait up," the vendor called out.

  Reluctantly I returned.

  "I have an offer for you. I'll give you everything you need," he lay a pa
ck of compatible cartridges on the counter and added eight brand new batteries.

  Naturally, it got me curious. "What is it?"

  "I need a special exo ingredient."

  Was it a standard newb quest? Go to the forest and kill a hundred rabbits, you won't regret it?

  I hated doing this sort of thing. Still, I wasn't in the position to choose.

  I raised a quizzical eyebrow. The vendor didn't look like an NPC. Besides, standard quests never offered this sort of upfront reward.

  "I need to make myself some medication. I just can't go on without it," the vendor wasn't complaining — he was simply stating the obvious. "But it's not easy to get the right ingredients."

  "Why?"

  "The Dargian fever can only be treated with Dargian metabolites. But we have no one from their planet here. Unfortunately."

  "So what do you use, then?"

  "The snakes. Or so we call them. They come originally from Darg. There's only one place on Argus where they live. But it's very dangerous. Think you can do it? I'll pay you a thousand credits on top of the cartridges and batteries."

  Hope gleamed in his eyes. "Oh, one other thing," he added. "Take this," he produced a tiny device and lay it on the counter. "I can see you've got no implants yet. This is an external connection module. It automatically finds the nearest network terminal."

  "How dangerous is it?"

  "There's radiation. And toxins. And the snakes," he said. "Most importantly, don't go too far from the elevator shaft once you've climbed out of it. Just lay in wait there somewhere. There're tons of them around," he added by way of encouragement.

  "How many of them d'you need?"

  "Five if they're small. If they're large ones, three would do it. But basically, the more the merrier."

  I'd already had some experience with both toxins and radiation. I could probably do it. It wasn't the worst of offers, if you think about it. "All right, then. Which way is it?"