EdgeofReality

byAndreiLivadny

PhantomServer

Book#1

MagicDomeBooks

PhantomServerBook#1:EdgeofReality

Copyright©AndreiLivadny2015CoverArt©VladimirManyukhin

2015Translators©IreneWoodhead,

NeilP.Mayhew2015PublishedbyMagicDomeBooks,

2015AllRightsReserved

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Thisbookisentirelyaworkoffiction.Anycorrelationwithrealpeopleoreventsis

coincidental.

TableofContents:PrologueChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreeChapterFour

ChapterFiveChapterSixChapterSevenAnnexAbouttheAuthor

Prologue

Darkness hung low,veinedwithcrimson,growingand swelling like an abscess.From time to time it spewed

clouds of ashen discharge,rapidandgreedy, thatmeltedrocks and evaporated thecrackedearth,thendissipatedintoatoxicgrayhaze.

Thehill toweredoveraspine-chillingseaofstatues.

Themist disgorged thepetrified figures of warriors.Steel had crumbled to rust.Silver and mithril glisteneddefiantly.

Thescarcereddishlight

seeped through the eternalfog, forming bloody dropletsin thecurvesofmyarmor. Ittrickled snake-like down mysword blade, shaping a runicscriptonthemoonsilver.

The castle's ruins roseon top of the hill. Rampartscircled the slopes. A barelydiscernible ash-buried roadled to the castle'smain gatesthat were formed by twomonolithledgesoflimestone.

Once snow-white, they nowlooked dull and ghostly,tinged with red. Above thegate towers' liquid outlines,the donjon loomed throughthetoxicfog.

Istopped,glancingoverthestatues'faces.

My heart was emptyandcold. Imusthaveknownsomeofthepetrifiedwarriorsin the past, but I couldn'tremember any of them

anymore. Where were thosehappy days when excitementravaged my thoughts, itswaves running up and downmyspine,pushingmeintothethickofevents?

The ash reared up, itsswirls encircling me,transforming into the figuresof dark guards. Their eyeswereablazewithgloom.

They charged at mefrom every direction all at

once. Playing solo, Iperformed a well-practicedcombo, stripping the mostbrazenonesoftheirhits.TheSky Shield ballooned out,causing a dozen Curses ofStone and some weakerdebuffs to dissolve into afountainofpureflamesasmyPaladin's unique abilitiestransformed them into acleansingwallofreturnfire.

The moon blade

quivered,impatienttojointhebattle, but the monsters hadalreadycrumbledtodust.Mylevel was way above theirleague.

I'dbeen trying todelaythismoment for as long as Ipossiblycould.Thelastquestcastle. The last tiny blankspace on the now completedmap of the game's enormousworld. Another reality I'dtraveledfarandwide.

I took another step.More ashen twisters flaredup, disgorging the blurredoutlines of new attackers,but...

Boring. Even my newsensation-enhancing devicedidn't helpmemuchwith itsability to experience thingsbeyond the usual humanrange of feeling. Myperceptionhadbeenenrichedwith unique gameplay

phenomena: I could feelenergies coursing down myarmor, the very fabric ofCreation flowing in theseveinsofthelevel-430PaladinthatInowwas.

Mypathledtowardthedonjon. There I would takeout an artifact I'd found longago and lay it onto thecracked altar. The crimsonabscess of the sky wouldfinally break, sunrays

bursting through the partingthunderclouds. Thedisappointed screams of thedark guards being cast outintothegloomydepthsofthevirtual world would bereplaced with a pure crystalchime. The castle's wallswould shake themselves freefromcindersandthebubbledmolten crust as its majesticbuildings would once againrisefromthedustofoblivion.

The light would takemein—tonoavail.

The game developershadnothinglefttorewardmewith.Notoneof themwouldconsidercreatinganewpatchfor a single player, openingnew mind-blowing locationsor introducing new questsunachievableforall theothergamers.

I had made too muchprogress.NowIhadtoleave.

To seek new experiences inthe vast expanses of the Net— something yet unknownandunexplored.Butwas thisatallfeasible?

It had to be. It waspurely a question of luck.And a lot of it. No matterhow clever the gamedesigners and script writersbelieved themselves to be, Ididn't think they could offeranything truly new to my

seasonedeye.

***Still, the world of the

Crystal Sphere offered meonelastsurprise,rekindlingaweaksparkof interestwithinme.

Higher up the hill, theearthgroanedopen.Lumpsofdryclayshoweredmyarmor,revealingadimcrevice.

I shifted my gaze,pointing the cursor to thisnew object. Surprisingly, theinterface remained dead,offeringnoneoftheexpectedinformation. Three of thedark guards aborted theirattack and swung round,scaling the rockslide anddiving into the gapingopening.

Excuseme?Whocouldhave possibly taken my top

place on the local NPCs'aggrolists?

I scanned through logslooking for a missed debuffthat could have possiblyreduced my stats, but foundnone. Everything seemed tobefine.

The next moment thedepthofthecreviceexplodedin a series of rhythmicalflashes of light. I could heartheearthgrumbleas thedark

guards screamed theirdisappointment,dying.

I'd never believed inguesswork. Mechanically IrenewedtheSkyShieldwhenI saw a player, barely alive,crawl out of the narrowcrevice.Anunfamiliaravatar.His weird gear resembled anoverallcovered inengineoil.Hisfacewasengravedwithacomplex silver tattoodistorting his features. An

artifactlurkedwithinhisrighteye socket — it must havebeen Dwarven craftwork,judging by the machineliketwitching of the wires thatframed the transparentcrystal.Thestrangersportedathickcollar—aslave'scollar— complete with theremaining few links of achain.

He struggled somemore,forcinghimselfout,but

lost his hold and rolledweakly down the slope. Hetried to scramble to his feetbutcollapsed,convulsing,hisfingersclawingtheash.

The interface remainedunresponsive.Itsimplyfailedtoidentifytheplayer.

Ididn't think long.TheHealingHand,nodoubtaboutit, then the Breaking ofShackles. Wouldn't you beinterested to findoutwhohe

was?The former ability,

capableofhealingallfriendlyand neutral players, sentfountains of sparks into theair, showering the poorbastard.Tonoavail.Eitherhehad indecent amounts of hitsor he was super immune tomagic.

The earth crumbled yetagain,spewingout threenewcharacters. Just over three

foot tall, squat and broad-shouldered, they were cladhead to toe in an armor thelikes ofwhich I'd never seenbefore. It was made of anunknown glossy black metalwhich seemed to surge withhigh-tension energy. Theirhelmets immediately caughtyour eye: one couldn't seetheir eyes at all behind thethick opaque visors made ofsomething that looked like

tintedglass.Immediately the dark

castersthatguardedthecastlegates aggroed them,launching a torrent of spells.First, curses of Stone,Paralysis, Strangulation,Crushing; then the skiesjoined in, white-hot meteorssearing through the heavyclouds and bombarding thehill, exploding into cascadesoffire.

The three "gnomes"didn't look impressed in theslightest.

Finally, my interfacekickedback in,sporting theirlife bars. Full life bars! Thespace below was hatchedgray. Zero mana! It wasn'trestoring,either!Theirnameswere shown as sequences ofunreadable symbols —definitely a bug— followedbysomethingevencuriouser:

Race:UnknownLevel:500+While I was trying to

fathom the meager stats, the"gnomes" (how else was Isupposed to call them?)promptly distributed thetargets. One of them hurriedtowardtheslave;anotheroneheadedforme.Thethirdoneturnedtofacethecastlegates

andraisedhisstaffthatratherresembled some futuristicfirearm, gunning the castersdown with a long burst thatreducedthemtodust.

The gaming mechanicswere bursting at the seams.The interface icons blinked.The strangers' levels droppedto400+.Itwasasifthegameenginehad reevaluated them,adapting their levels to theCrystalSphere.

Thiswas a bit better. Iwentforthenearest"gnome",assaulting him with mysignature combo. The moonblade ripped through thegnome's armor, sinking deepintohisflesh.

He wheezed, squirtingbubbling green bloodeverywhere. His legs gaveway beneath him. Droppingto his knees, he instinctivelyraisedhishands,clutchinghis

severed throat. A humanplayer, definitely. Reflexesdon't lie. NPCs had a totallydifferentbodylanguage.

The second one wasforced to leave the slavealone.Heleveledhisgunandgavemeaburstofit.

My life bar shrank tothirty percent. It was a goodjobIalwayshadscrollsreadyin quick access slots. Oldhabitsdiehard.

TheHealingHand!Idartedup the slope,a

golden cloud of healingsparksfollowinginmywake,and performed a level-300combo. My sword struggledtoslicethearmorthatseemedtoclingtoit.Ihadbarelyhadtimetocompletemymove.

By then, the crevicewas crusting over. It was

disappearing!The third gnomebegan

a hasty retreat, expertlyduckingforcoverasheran.IcastWeakness over him. Nogood.Magicwasn'tworking.

He disappeared fromsight. More gunfire flashescame from amid the ruins.My recent apathy faded intonothing, replaced by intenseinterest. The castle wasalready enveloped in the

swirls of ashen discharge asmore dark guards hurriedfrom everywhere trying toattack the gnome. Pointless:he'd chosen an excellentposition, mowing down hisenemiesfromafar.

He'smine.My hands closed

around the scroll. My starelocked onto the target. Thesealcrumbledinmyhands.Ateleport popped open. Runes

glistened on themoon blade.Anothercombo!

This time my swordstruggled with his blackarmorstreamingwithenergy.The combo failed, myenemy's life shrinking byonly one-third. Sturdy littlebastard!

Thegnomechangedhisgrip of the weapon. Holdingitlikeaclub,hewentforme.All the NPCs in the location

werehappilyaggroingus,theashen swirls around usobscuring the dim light ofday.

Ihadtoactfast.Paladin's Fury

performedwith amoonsilverbladewasakillerargumentinanycombat.

Bouncingofftherocks,his severed head still in thetintedhelmetrolleddowntheslope, splashing green blood

thathissedandbubbledintheair. About a hundred darkguards sprinted toward us inexcitement, closing theircircle.

I glared around me.Another seal crunched undermy fingers. Another teleportpoppedopen.Fromfurtherupthe slope came thedisappointed wail of manyvoicesthatechoedbehindthejagged walls of the castle's

ruins.

***Catching my breath, I

crouched next to the freedslave,peeringat thecomplexsilver script of his unusualtattoo.

You can't surprise aplayer of my experience.Still, this time they'ddone it.The gaming interface was

still inacoma—soIhadtostrain my memory,rummaging through all theworldsI'deverbeento.

Theydidn'tmeanit!The stranger's features

were distorted by a web ofsophisticated wiring. Hisslave's collar sparkeddefiantly, betraying its hightechnature.

The remaining twognomeswerenowbleedingto

death, slaughtered by me.Their avatars, so obviouslynot of this world, werefading, disappearing. No, Ihad nothing against gamedevelopers flexing theirimaginationmuscles,butyoushouldn't forget that theireffortswere restricted by thegivengame'sconventions.

They simply couldn'tallow a botch like that —neitherasan insider jokenor

foranyexperimentalpurpose.Cyborgs stuffed withimplants,inaworldofswordand sorcery — one that hadwonoverusersexactlybythepurityofitsfantasycontent?

What could havehappened then? A hackingattack?

I watched the tunnelbetween the two worldscontract. The crevice wasshrinking,itsoutlineblurring.

Finally it turned into a fierydot, flared up anddisappeared, leaving behindonlythesoundofsmallrockscrumblingdowntheslope.

Ihadaboutacoupleofminutes until the NPCsrespawned. I glanced over atthe cyborg-like monsters.WhatiftheywereNPCstoo?Would they come back tolife? Would this world'sengineacceptthem?

Remembering mydangerously shrinking lifebar,Idecidednottopushmyluck. This definitely was anextraordinaryevent.IglancedoverthescreenshotsI'dmadeearlier. They confirmed myinitial suspicions: better safethan sorry. Picking the slaveup under his armpits, Idragged his body furtherdownthehill,leavingagoodthirty paces between us and

those squat implant-stuffedbastards.

Hegroanedweakly."Hey? You okay?" I

peered into his face. Thistime the virtual cursorhelpfully highlighted thecrouchingfigure.

????? Level 18.

Mechanic.The "Mechanic's" life

continued to dwindle, losingits last hits. I tried to healhim. No way. The red barkept shrinking slowly butsurely.

Immune to magic.Whatashame.

His eyes opened. Themangledlipstwitchedinpain.His hoarse whisper scorchedthe air. Blood bubbled upthrough his lips, preventingmefromhearinghimwell.

"The Phantom...Server..."

"Sayitagain?"He struggled to focus,

blood gurgling in his throat,thenwheezed,

"The Phantom...Server...findit..."

For a second, Iremainedspeechless.Aquestfromadifferentworld?

Curiosity sparkedwithin me. What if this was

meant for me? An exclusivequest, a secret location? Agift from the developersattempting to keep theinterest of one particularplayer?

I hurried to open thequestlist.

As if. No new entriesthere.

"?????"was losing hislast hits. I made one moreattempttohealhim.Ihadthis

one-off ability allowing youto restore a thousand lifepoints. But the spell's aurabled through his body andimpotently ran down theslope, radiating glowinggoldencircles.

Dead.Once again ash swirled

in the air. I was forced tojump to my feet, acceptingthechallenge.

It took me about thirty

seconds to smoke thenearestguards.

I turned around. Theslavewas gone. Sowere thestrange monsters. They haddisappeared to respawnsomewhere else, leavingnothing behind but thegasping whisper echoing inmymind,

The Phantom Server...

Findit...

ChapterOne

LogoutI was slumped in a

saggingoldchair.Toxic industrial haze

wove patterns behind mystudio's window. The greenlight of the airtightnessindicator glowedreassuringly.

Welcome totechnosphere. Unlike thecyber world, here anyequipmentfailurecouldresultin some very nastyconsequences. No amount of

buffscouldhelpyouhere.It took me several

minutes to come round. Forthelastsixmonths,thevirtualcapsule with its massagerollers and life supportmoduleshadbeenservingmeas a clothes dump. Why,mightyouask?

I'll tell you. By then, Ihad abandoned the relativesafety of a virtual capsule inexchangefornewexperiences

unknowntomebefore.NowIdidn't need the holographicscreens with their poorversionofcyberspace;Ididn'tneed the capsule's impactmembranespokingmyribs.Ialways carried the virtualworld around with me. Asmall implanthadbeen fixedbehind my ear like anearpiece, huggingmy templeand part of my cheekbone,sinking millions of its nano

needlesintomyskin.Its flesh-colored plastic

concealed unknownquantities of chips, allforming a complex neuralsystem connected to mypersonal nanocomp bracelet.That was all it took. Thefutureofthegamingindustry.

A product of thehighest-endtechnologies,thisneuroimplant processedgaming sequences in its

artificial neural networkwhichinturnformedseriesofimpulses it then sent directlyto the brain. The neuralnetwork was learningconstantly, generating newsensations, even those totallyalientotherealworld.

Risky,youmightsay?Iwouldn'targueonthis

one. But I didn't care,anyway. A man who's longsunk to the depths of

cyberspace has moredangerous things to worryabout, each of them capableof sentencing him to a longandagonizingdeath.

Likeboredom,forone.You can't fight

boredom.Tome,livinginthereal world is unbearable. It'sgray and poor. And don'teven try to convince meotherwise. I'd made mychoice and burned my

bridges. The virtual capsulehad been great — until acertain moment when mymindhadlearnedtotell truthfromfiction. Iwanted to livethere, in these worlds ofinfinite possibilities, butevery day had been worsethantheonebeforeit.The3Dspace kept losing its depth.My eye had learned to seethrough illusions.All I couldseewas the shell ofmyhigh

tech prison. I struggled withdepression, losing my mind,asIrealizedthattherewasnoway the virtual world couldever replace the real one.WhichwaswhyI'dagreedtothis experiment. It hadbrought thrills back into thegame, offering lots of newopportunities previouslyunavailabletome.

I scrambled off thechair and shuffled my feet

into the kitchen to feed mypreciousbiologicalbody.

The little icons beforemyeyesdidn'tdisappear.Theartificial neural networkcouldn'tbeswitchedoff—itjust changed interfaces,closing or opening certainoptions. Glancing at theclock, I dialed the deliveryservice formy latedinner.Acouple of minutes later, thehydraulic elevator hissed. A

capacious cylinder rolled outintothereceivertray.Ipickedit up and sat at the table,pulling the sides off andripping open the seam alongthe middle. The wrapperunfolded, becoming aplacemat laden witheverything one could need.Food,drinks,each in itsownairtight container. Healthyand nutritious, but mostimportantly, convenient. No

needtogoanywhere.I had two meals a day

and slept in the virtualcapsule. So practical andfamiliar.Sosafe.

A mental disorder?Absolutely. I am the first toadmit it. Still, I wouldn'tchangeanything.

I'd received my firstholographic nanocomp formy twelfth birthday. Sincethen, the real world had

gradually faded intoinsignificance. I wasincreasinglyreluctanttocomeback from the game. Had itbeen down to me, I'd neverhave come back at all. Butunfortunately, ourtechnologies still weren't uptomuch.Thisneuroimplant Ihad was the first sign ofthingstocome.

I was thirty-nine.Single,well-off, commitment

free. How I earned myliving...I'lltellyouaboutthatlater.

I ate unhurriedly as Iskimmed through my mailand PM box, deleting mostmessageswithaswipeofmyeyes.

Having discoverednothing of interest, I openedthesearchengineandenteredPhantomServer.

I had to admit it had

piquedmy interest. The rest,as experiencehad taughtme,was purely a question ofapplication.

No results found

matching your searchcriteria.

The incoming call icon

flashed insistently. It wasfrom the developers of myunique wetware. Vultures.

They had to have their dailyreportonthedot.

Okay,okay.Apromiseis a promise. My eyesightclouded, blurring out offocus, while the artificialneural network scanned mymind, uploading some of themorememorableneurograms.

A test model, yeahright. The implant'sdevelopers promised that thefinished version would

perfectly comply with thePrivacy Law. Somehow Ididn'tbelievethem.

Having finished withmy daily report, I rose andwalked over to the window,feeding the wrapper with itsunfinished dinner into themacerator on my way. I justwasn'thungry.

No results found, theysaid? I stared at a cityenveloped in a cloak of

emissions. The urbanlandscape served as anabstractbackdroptothemoreand more search reports thatflashed before my eyes. Noresultsfound.

Could whatever hadhappened simply have beenmyimaginationplayingup?

No way. Impossible. Itwasn't for nothing I'duploaded my daily report.Had they found the slightest

malfunction in the implant,they'd have already been onmycasebynow,tellingmetoswitch on the dedicatedcommunication channel, then"sitcomfortablyandtrynottothinkaboutanything".

Whatweretheywaitingfor,then?Hadn'ttheynoticedthesuddensurgeofemotionalactivityinmylogs?

Anxiety was growingwithinme. I could definitely

smellarattheresomewhere.Should I leave it as it

was? Should I maybe take ashower and go to bed? Thenfirst thing tomorrowmorningI could start looking for anew game world that couldbecomemy life'spurpose forthenextfewyears.

Still, the spark ofawakened curiosity began toburn me from inside — theanxiety within me growing,

inexplicable. What ifeverything thathadhappenedwas the neurocybertechs'setup?

Admittedly, I hatedfeeling like a half-deadmouse at the mercy of a fatcheekycat.Italwaysgavemethedesiretostrikeback.

ThePhantomServer.The name sat like a

thorninmymemory.Nevermind.I'dhadthis

implant for about a year andhad a decent idea of how itworked.I'dalsocomeupwitha couple of backup scenariosin case someone tried to usemeasaguineapig.

I'm relaxed. I'mperfectly happy. I have nodisturbing thoughts. I peeledoffmyclothesandheadedfortheshower.

Theneuralnetworkwassafelysealedwithinitsplastic

casing. Water couldn'tdamage it anyway, but thedevelopersapparentlywantedto minimize any risksconsidering the device's cost.So I'd long noticed that themnemonic interface shutdown every time I took ashower.Ialsoknewaboutthemicro slot in the machine'slower part. Currently it wasempty, but I'd already foundout, by very careful trial and

error, that it was perfectlyadapted for a 1Tb memorycard.AcoupleofthemIkeptat home just in case, filledwith pre-recordedneurogramsofdeepsleep.

I picked the slot's lidwithmy nail and pushed thecard into its groove withoutlockingit.Itwasn'tyettime.Iturned thewater off, toweledmyself dry and jumped intothe capsule, leaving the lid

open. I set it to reposemodeandmovedmy body around,making myself comfortable.Like,Iwasfastasleep.

After a few minutes Itouched the implant, pushingthecardinuntilitclicked.I'ddone it many times before.Predictably, the icons of theinternalinterfacefaded.

I waited some more,just to be on the safe side,then slid out online. Reality

disappeared.IclosedmyeyesandenteredaveryrareloginIvirtuallyneverused.

The chat room wascrap: empty and boring. Ientered a code phrase. ThePM window flashed, thecursorblinkinginquiringly.

The Chrystal Sphere.Agrion.TheTavern.

OK.My message had been

accepted.

***

The tavern was noisy

and packed with players.There, no one could tell mefrom a newb. I walked inhumbly,lookingforanemptytableattheback.

"Hi," a rather scruffygoblin took a place next tome.Ilookedathishands.Thesign was correct. I showed

himmine.We spoke quietly

without attracting anyattention.

"Soyoufinallydecidedto make a few bucks? It'sbeen a while. How's itgoing?"

"Fine."The scruffy goblinwas

in fact my first onlineemployer, no less. We wentback quite a while, doing

business together — forwhatevergoodithaddoneus.

By the age of fifteen(bythenIhadalreadysunkincyberspace, devouringvarious gaming worldsindiscriminatelyregardlessoftheir genre) I'd realized thatthe best andmost interestingbits lay beyond the averageteenager's financial and agerestrictions.

Well, parental control

chips were easily hacked byamateurexpertsthesameageas myself. This problemcould be easily fixed —unlike the financial one. I'dlong given up onmy studiesand even managed to get astudent loan, immediatelysplurging it and unable tokeep up with the compoundinterest. I could sense I waswalking a tightrope; no —running a tightrope, keeping

my balance purely out ofhabit.

I played passionatelyand without mercy. I didn’thave time to level my charsproperly. The way thingsweregoing,Iwaslookingatacareerasalow-levelPK—aPlayer Killer — as I keptclutching at straws in thenaïvebeliefthatthelootfromthe killed players wouldallowme tostay in thegame

forjustalittlelonger,tradingitinforin-gamecurrencies.

Which was when, asluck would have it, I'd metArbido. I'd never known hisreal name— nor had I eventried to find it out. He,however,hadacompletereal-liferundownonme.

Our first meeting hadbeen brief and in manyrespectsunpleasant(formeatleast)but,asIlaterfoundout,

veryproductive.Hepromised topayoff

my loan and sort out myschool innuendos. Naturally,he couldn't upload anyknowledge tomyheadbutatleastheseriouslypromisedtoimprovemygradesandmakesure no one pestered me inthefuture.

What did he want inreturn?Mygamingskills.MyyetundevelopedtalentthatI'd

been wasting so uselessly.Actually,hewasn't interestedin my talents at first. Myinitial jobs were quiteprimitive. Have you everheard of a dedicated driver?You haven't? That's funny.The idea is, you are grantedaccess to a client's gamingaccount. Then you get allsorts of tasks, fromcompletingcertainqueststhattheclienteithercan'torwon't

do himself — or evenlevelinghischar.Someofthetasks can be rather mind-numbing, like ore crafting orcollectingcertain ingredients.But once you becomeacquainted with a particularworld,learningitssecretsandtricks, it takes you less andless time to complete yourtasks.

That's how I'd startedearningonline.Working as a

char driver was only thebeginning. Soon they beganentrusting me with morecomplex — and dirtier —jobs.

Gradually I startedlearningthelayoftheland.Iwould register a character insome popular game world,levelitup,thensellitthroughArbido. Or use it myself. Iwas accepting orders forartifactsoruniquearmoryou

just couldn't buy— becausethey were dropped byparticularmobs.

If you'd like to knowmore about it, it's no secret.An Internet search willprovide you with a long listof these and similar paidservices.

Arbido had a rathersolid business. He hadthousandsofplayersworkingfor him in most popular

games. He was very correct,too: ripping off a client justwasn't worth risking hisreputation. Recently I'dworkedforhimonafewVIPorders even though I didn'tneed the money any more. Iwas quite capable of earningmyownwaynow.Thegamehadtaughtmethat.

The goblin's familiarsquint landed on me. "I'vebeen following your

progress," he said. "This is ayoung world. Completelyvirgin. Should we bleed itdry?"

Ishookmyhead.Arbido raised a

quizzical eyebrow. "Don'tyou think you're taking thegame too seriously? YouneedtoshedthisPaladinroleonceinawhile,"hesaidwithfatherlyconcern inhisvoice."Very well now, what is it?

Mytimeismoney,youknowthat. How many Easter eggshaveyoufound?"

He never wastedhimselfon little things.Whathe needed was gold minesand mithril fields. Oh yes, Iknew of a few, plus a fewmore locations that were offlimits to average players.They would only be openafter a couple of years. Butme, I did know how to

arrange a premature globaleventthatincludedmassraidson the unexplored territories.Iwas theonewith theportalkeys.

"I've come to you as aclient,"Isaid.

He frowned, trying toimagine me as a customer."Spititout."

"I need an account atPhantom Server," I saidmatter-of-factly, not even

questioning the doability ofmyrequest.

He immediately knewwhat I meant. The searchenginesdidn't,buthedid!Hisstare became decidedlyprickly.

"Don'tyou thinkyou'regetting too big for yourboots?"hegrumbled."What'swrongwiththisone?"

"Boring.""Then you should

create an alt character. Trysome other ways of levelinghim.Thisworldhaspotential.You're not bored, if you askme.You'rejustplainlazy."

Icastasurprisedglanceat him. He'd never beenknowntorejectaclient.

"Just say you can't doit," I shamelessly upped theante.

"It's a shady project,"heshookhishead."Aclosed

world stuck in the alphatestingstage."

He frowned, probablyrealizing he'd said toomuch."Are you fishing?" hispracticed stare halted at mytemple.Naturally,mycurrentavatar had nothing there atall, no signs of aneuroimplantwhatsoever,butyou couldn't keep a cat in abagfortoolong.Ihadn’ttoldhim anything. He must have

found out via his ownchannels. He was oneinfluentialmotherfucker.

I gulped. "No, it's aclean game. I wanna try. I'llpayyou."

"You idiot," heanswered ungrudgingly as hethought about something."Didn'tyouhearme?They'realpha testing it. It's a closedshop.Nopayingmembers. Ifthey didn't invite you, it

means you're not goodenough.Noideawhatat.Youcan knock at their door, noproblem.Theymightevenletyou in. But then it getsweird."

"Pleaseexplain.""Pleasepay.Ifyou'reso

smartit'sgonnacostyou.""Howmuch?"A six-digit sum

appeared in the interfacewindow. It wasn't in any of

the in-game currencies,either.Arbidowas playing itbigandproper.Atthetime,itdidn't even occur to me thathemight be trying to protectme from any potentialproblems.

Greedy bastard. Heknows I don't have that kindofmoney.

"Howaboutaswap?"Iofferedasolution.

"For what?" his stare

wascold.So I made a counter-

proposition. A list of all theyet undiscovered — andunmapped — uniquelocations plus some artifactsfrommyownlittlestocks.

"Notenough.""Areyouravingmad?"What was wrong with

me today? I just couldn'tcontrol myself. I hadn't evennoticedthemomentwhenthe

spark of initial interest hadtransformed itself intoa littlebonfire of still unclear butalreadypressingdesires.Ifeltlike the last needer but Icoulddonothingaboutit.

"As you wish," heshruggedandstoodup,abouttoleave.

"No, wait," I threw inthe closed locations and theportalkeys.

He sat back down,

reproach in his stare. "Aren'tyougonnaregretthat?"

"Regret what?" Iflashed him a stubbornfearless smile trying tosuppress the ever-growinganxiety. "Happy with thepricenow?"

"Yeah.Now look.Thisis how it works," he gotstraighttothepoint."Thisisanew-generation game, thegame of the future," as he

spoke,theinformationI'djustswappedwaschanginghands."How long since you've hadtheimplant?'

"Aboutayear.""They've been testing

the Phantom Server for fiveyears now. They only acceptveteran players. They wantsingle loners — those whohave no family or friends inreallife."

"What'sthecatch?"

"Not many of themcome back. They log in andthat's the last you hear ofthem. I do know that all ofthem had these same neuralnetwork implants installedfirst. Just like yours. Also,there're rumors, of course.Aboutworldsbeingbreached.Virtually all games have hadincidentsofthose.Allsortsofweird creatures crawling outof the woodwork. According

tomy information, they'reallfromthePhantomServer.Butthere is no direct evidence.The admins make sure theycoverupalltrace."

I listened, piecing theinformationtogether.

Thefirstgamebasedondirect neurosensory contact?Thatwasbreathtaking.Everyounce of adventure spiritwithin me cheered at thenews. I'd already had the

opportunitytoexperienceoneside of this new technology.Admittedly, Iwas impressed.Whatcouldbewaitingformethere if every object in thatworld was interacting withtheneuralnetwork?

Surely Arbido simplywasunabletograspitall.ButI, I could see it clearly: theonly reason those playershadn't come back wasbecause they didn't want to!

My craving for a newadrenaline fix had got out ofcontrol, bundling reason intothe farthest corner of mymind. As long as my brainwasdominatedbymyselfishurge, it blanked out anysuspicions theoldmancouldoffer.

"You don't think theymight have died there, doyou?"hesnapped,rippingthewingsoffmyhopefuldream.

"Whywouldthey?""These things are

dangerous," Arbido glancedat my right temple again."They cause brains to packup."

"Knowofanycases?""No,Idon't.ButIhave

reasons to believe it. Trustme."

"You can stuff yourreasons-"

"So you've made up

your mind, then?" he askedwithabittersmirk.

"Yes,Ihave!Youcan'ttalkmeoutofit."

"Well,suityourself.Gobackhome.Andwait."

"I'm gonna stay here abit. Ineed toauctionasetofarmor."

"Leaveittome.Andallyourotheraccounts,youneedto either sell them or rentthemouttome."

"Dependsontheprice.""Have I ever had you

over?""Very well. I can do

that.Youcankeepthemoneyforthetimebeing."

"Why?""You never know. I

might need some cashinjections,whatever."

He didn't say anything,just sat there all grim andgloomy as if I was already

dead."Soisitadeal?"Arbido nodded.

Moments later, his avatardisappeared.

***

Logout

Night had swallowed

the real world. I was pacing

the room, stopping andstaring out of the windowtrying to while away theanxioushoursofwaiting.

You think I'm anaddict? A nutcase? Take alookoutthewindow.

The stepped silhouettesof themegablocks pierce theclouds. Smog envelops thewind-pervadedcitystretchinghalf the continent. Thebuildings' blank walls are

prudishly covered with eerieholograms; rivers of lightsflow between them,disappearing into the cloudsof all-pervasive emissions.Thecitygasps,strugglingforbreath, still alive and full ofenergy—but in all honesty,it'sbeenhopelesslydeadforalongtime.

Only the serves cansurvive outside the sealedhouse units. It's their planet

now. The only place for meandbillionsofothersthatstillguarantees some semblanceofsanityiscyberspace.

When I was young Iused to think it was infinite.But with time I started tounderstand that most virtualworldsarejustcopiesofeachother.Whatusedtotakeyourbreathaway—theworld,thegameplay—had long faded.My disenchanted mind

demanded new experiences,butwherewas I supposed totake them if I'd done it allalreadyhundredsoftimesinahundreddifferentways?

Leaving the boringpredictable cyberspace andgoing back to the miserablereal life was especiallyunbearable.Manyofyoucanrelate. It's driving you mad,theglimmerofunknownnewexperiences tearing your

mindapart.Thegameofthefuture!

Alpha testing, so what! Iwantedsobadlytogivein tothisnewneuronet-technologyworld.

Noincomingmessages.Waiting was

unbearable. But thisagonizinganticipationfelttoogood. A selfish cocktail ofcravingandadrenaline.

Atthreeinthemorning,

theinterfaceblinked.Iopenedthemessage.A web link. A user's

name.Apassword.I shivered

uncontrollably as the capsulewhirred its start-up gears.Whydidittakeitsolong!

I climbed inside. Thelife support sensors clung tomyskin.

Warning! You're

enteringarestrictedarea.I entered the user's

nameandpassword.Neuronet connection

activated. Neuroimplantconnected.

I closed my eyes,

collapsingintothevoid.

***

PhantomServer

LoginIwasshaking.Icouldn'tthinkstraight.

Neverhadmyintroductiontoa new game world beenaccompaniedbysuchabunchof weird and painfulsensations.

Icouldn't seea thing. I

triedtomovebutIdidn’tfeelmy body. My templesthrobbedwithafadingpain.

All the interface iconsweregray.

A painful tinglingsensation pervaded mymuscles.Myunfocusedmindbarely registered someof thevague shadows that slidpast.A whimpering, similar to achild'scrying,filledmybrain.

I wheezed, ripping my

lungswiththeeffort.I was lying on

something hard and coveredinfrost.That'sallIcouldtellat that moment. The air wascoldanddepletedofoxygen.

Messages flashedbeforemymind'seye.

Mind expander: not

installedMetabolic corrector:

notinstalled

Reflex enhancer: notinstalled

Semantic processor:notinstalled

Alternative startconditionsmet.

Alternative startinitialized.

By then I had half-

caught my breath and wasnowcourageouslywaitingforall the opening fanfare. You

know what I mean, a full-dimensional visualmasterpiece.

The pain returned in aflash. I failed to suppress ashriek. A hot breathingburnedmycheek,forcingmeto open my eyes. Their first"visualeffect"wasincredible.Some ugly creature the sizeof a monkey was trying tobite through my weird gear,its fat neck ring preventing

the monster from sinking itsteethintomythroat.

InstinctivelyIstruggledwith the failing muscles,trying to whack it nice andhard.Thecreature leaptbackand disappeared into thedarkness, crying like a littlechild.

Thatwasspooky.I couldn't believe their

authenticity levels. I couldstill feel the creature's hot

greedy breath on my cheek.Adrenaline was clouding mygaze crimson. Shivers ranoverme;Iwaswellandtrulyfeverish.

Slowly the interfaceicons lit up one by one,comingtolife.

Immediately I openedthe logs and checked theentry,

A Kicker, a 15-level

Xenomorph,hasattempted tobiteyourthroat.

Your aggressivereaction has scared theKickerwhorunsaway.

Yeah, right, I thought

struggling to sit up.Thishadto be a newb location bydefinition. Why level 15NPCs? Why the alternativestart? Where was mycharacter generation menu?

Where were all the talenttrees and available skillpoints? Where... where, infact,wasI?

It was cold. I wasfreezing in theheart of somewintry void. The floor wassmooth—definitelynotearthorstone.Wasitsomekindofartificialinstallation?

Messages startedflashing before my mind'seye.

Newquestalert!Alone.Explore the location.

Trytofindatleastonehumanbeing.

New quest alert! The

SleepofReason.Inorder togainaccess

to the character developmentpanel, you need to find andinstallamindexpander.

New quest alert! It'sYourProblem.

Inordertosurvive,youneed to find and install ametaboliccorrector.

New quest alert! The

PriceofFreedom.In order to be able to

move between locations, youneed to find and install areflexenhancer.

Newquest alert! ICanHearThem.

In order to understandthe languageofXenomorphs,youneedtofindandinstallasemanticprocessor.

Epic quest unblocked:

PhantomServer.Inordertounblocknew

skill tree branches andactivate theglobal story, youneed to find outwho created

theworldaroundyou.I opened the character

generationmenu.Zander. Level 1.

HumanA human body outline,

grayslots,weirdarmor.Istudiedtheprompt.A light armored suit.

No integrated weapons.Contains five slots fordedicatedcybermodules.Notairtightwithoutahelmet.Theenvironment sensor reports10% oxygen content. Toxiccontaminantscontent:20%.

Effect: you arestruggling to breathe. Everyminute without protectiondeprives you of health andlife. In order to survive, youneed to install a metabolic

correctororfindahelmet.I heard more

whimperingandwhining thatnow sounded more likehysterical laughter. It seemedto be coming from alldirections.

I burst out coughing.They were right: breathingwas a struggle. The locationswam beforemy eyes. I sawdouble.

You have received a

doseoftoxins.What were they

thinking of! I scrambled tomy feet and struggled tofocus,lookingaround.

Judgingby theechoingsounds, the location washuge. I couldn't see itswalls.Thefloorwascoveredinice.Noideawhichwaytogo:the

place was sinking in thishostile,arctic,toxichaze.

For the first time inyearsIfeltlost.Thiswaslikenone of the game worlds I'dever been to. On one hand,mycuriositygrewwitheveryheartbeat. It had been a verylong while since I'dexperienced anything likethis: a half-forgottenintoxicating feeling of aninvalidleavinghisbedforthe

first time, greedily taking inalltherevivedsensations.

Inthetwilightdepthsofmy mind, Experience washolding a whispered counselwithCaution,makingitclear:thiswas one hell of aworld.They call it an alternativestart? I'd very nearly hadmythroattornout!

I had to think fast.Myevery breath stripped me ofhits. I needed to find the

helmet.Question: where did

they want me to find it? Iactivated the quest andswitchedovertothemap.Nodirection markers. Thelocationwasswimminginthemistofwar.Itlookedasifthedifficulty levels of thealternative start were allmaxed out. Specially forsomehardcorelovers.

The first impressions

madeitclear:itlookedasifIwas stuck here for quite awhile. Firstly, I had to findmy respawn point. Normallythey're situated in safelocations where the sheeramount of neutral characterssaves the newbs fromimmediatemortaldanger.

Doubtful.This Price ofFreedom quest worriedme abit. In the absence of theirmysteriousReflexEnhancerI

could resurrect right here.Somehow I didn't think Icouldchangemybindpoint.Ihad a funny feeling that this"alternative start" had beenintroducedforareason...

I cast another lookaroundme,tryingtoinhaleaslittle as possible. The gamedesigners must have beenaway on holiday when thisparticular level had beenintroduced. The emosphere

madeyour blood curdle.Thefar-off whimpering andwailing really worked onyour nerves, and the colddrove you to frustration.There was also no stagesettingworthmentioning.

Occasionally the floorechoed with distinctvibrations, easilyrecognizable as someone'sheavygait.

Never mind. I've seen

worse than this. Guided bythesounds,Itriedtochooseasafedirection.

The icy sheets of mistclungtomyshudderingbody.The laughter and thewhimpering seemed todistance somewhat.Myheartfluttered in my chest, mybreathing refusing to obeyme. The life bar had alreadybegun to shrink before I'devenmetasingletarget!

A few minutes later Inoticed an enormous moundof small sharp-edged bits ofdebris. Was it a rockfall? Iturned and staggered towardit. The toxic fog thickened,acquiring a greenish hue.Every breath I took resultedin acute pain. Thoseneuroimplants were quicklearners. So I wantedauthenticity?Thereitwas,thewholenineyardsofit.

I doubled up in aparoxysm of coughing.Everything was swimmingbeforemyeyes.

I swung round to arustlingsound,justintimetoglimpse some squatsilhouettes through the haze.MechanicallyIpickeduponeof the angular stones, noteven noticing that I'd cutmyself. I had no gloves.Theunknown creatures

disappeared from sight,replacedbyamessage,

You've received critical

damage!Since when? No one

hadevenapproachedmeyet!Istaredat thepieceofrockIstill clutched in my hand. Itwas glowing — dimly andunevenly.Abarelynoticeableglow.Ifocusedontheitem.

Radioactiveore.Effect:

radiation sickness. Anyintervention is currentlyimpossible. In order toneutralize the deadlyexposure, you need to find ametaboliccorrector.

Suddenly I became

quite disillusioned with boththe gameplay and thisparticular scenario. My life

bar kept shrinking rapidly.My legs were shaking. Iretched violently andcollapsed to the floor,convulsing.

The brief agony endedin paralysis. The spasmsstopped. Darknessencroachedonme,devouringmymind.

At the lastmomentmyvision sharpened; I could seea ruptured domed ceiling

overhead.Mygazepenetratedthe haze, making out thefuturistic outline of aspaceship. Ithadrammedtheceilingandwasforeverstuckin the framework. Therockslide that had justbecomemy ignominious andagonizing undoing was theorethathadpouredoutof itsholds.

***

Respawn

The heavy steps shook

thefloor.The toxic haze; the

ground covered in a thicklayer of ice; the whiningnoisesinthedark.Beenthere.My fists clenched.Instinctively I waited for themonsters to attack, feelingangry,lostanddeceived.Talk

aboutastupiddeath.Whatanembarrassment for someonewithmy twenty-fiveyearsofgamingexperience.

What on earth wasgoing on? The developers'mainobjectiveistoeasenewplayers into the game,permitting them to embracetheirnewreality.Notalienatethem! I could imagine thenewbs'reactiontothiskindofalternative start. They'd just

slam the Logout button, endofstory.

Lying on the icy floormademe shiver. I scrambledtomyfeet.

I felt likecrap. Ihadn'texactly lost interest but wasdangerously close to doingso. Couldn't they give me achance to do some levelingfor a change? After the topbucksI'dpaidthem?

My anger kept

mounting.I hadn't yet pressed the

Logout button out ofprinciple, even though I hadevery reason to believe thelocation glitched big time.The game was still in alphatesting, after all. Trying tostay cool, I sent a technicalsupport ticket describing alltheproblemsI'dencountered.

No reply. Thewhimpering and the laughter

were growing closer,approaching from threedifferentdirections.

I could make out asquatugly shape in thehaze.Barely visible, the creaturewasrunningonallfours.

A Kicker. Xenomorph.

Level15.Time to move my

respawn point. Wish I knew

howtodoitthough.Ihadnosuitable skills nor artifacts.Theinterfacehadnorelevantoptionsatall.

My anger mountedsome more. Calm down, Itold myself. I needed todisconnect, then try to loginagain. I could see no otherway. Trying to fight threelevel-15 mobs was anexercise in futility. I justhoped that the alternative

start was a glitch. Next timeI'd find myself in a normallocation.

***

Logout

Slowly I came round.

MyapartmentwaswarmbutIwasstill shudderingfromtherheumy cold that had

permeatedmybones.Mythroatfeltrawfrom

the toxic fumes. One mightthink I'd really inhaled them.Wretched implant! Highauthenticity levels were allgood and well but there hadtobecertainlimits!

I gulped down somewater without leaving thecapsule.

Okay.Let'stryitagain.I entered the address.

Thefamiliarmessagepoppedup.

Warning! You're

entering a restricted area.Youmusthavearrivedatthispagebymistake.

***

Login

Thetoxichazestirred.I held my breath.

Hearing the scamperingsounds of approachingfootsteps,Iswunground.Toolate.Oneofthemonstershadalreadytakenapowerfulleap.The creature rammed mychest.Apawrosetoclawme,sending fireworks of pain asitslitmyheadopen.

Blood gushed onto thefloor. I collapsed, unable to

stayonmyfeet.Thecreaturesprangback.

Grrrgrrr.Thehunchingsilhouettes circled me in thedark,closerandcloser.

I crawled back. Thedepthandintensityoffeelingwere mind-boggling.Everything I'd experiencedbefore was just a shadow ofwhat I was feeling now.Blood gushed into my eyes— I could taste it, my

hastenedbreathing tearingupmylungs,defyingallgamingstereotypes.

Their authenticitylevelsweregoingthroughtheroof. I was gasping,struggling for breath. Blood-curdlinginstinctsescapedmysubconscious, breaking theage-oldiceofboredom.Iwasdriven by one need alone. Ihad to survive, whatever theprice.

Grrrgrrr, a shadowrushedoutofthegloom.

InstinctivelyI threwupmyleftarmtoprotectmyself.Sharp teeth sank through thearmor intomyflesh,maulingthe muscle. Pain pierced mefrom shoulder to tail bone.Everything went dark. Ahoarse scream escaped mythroat. Two otherxenomorphs met my insaneglare, apparently unsure

about assaulting me. Theyrecoiled as if they'd beenburnedandbegancirclingmeat a distance, whimperinghysterically.

Wheezing, I grabbedthe monster by the scruff ofits neck with my right handand forced the creature offme, seeing its hatefulfurrowedface.Itseyesglaredgreedily, its teeth hurriedlymunching on a piece of my

flesh.The room swam again.

Deludedwithpain,Irammedthecreature'sheadagainstthefloor in a fit of uncontrolledfury. Again. Again. Andagain. The gargling sounds,the crunching of bonesbreaking — I watched it allthrough some crimson daze,unabletostop.

You've received a new

level!The message sobered

melikeaslapintheface.Myfingersslackened.I

looked around, but the twoother xenomorphs haddisappeared somewhere.Their mocking hair-raisinglaughterhadstopped.Silencehung in the air. The newmessagecontortedbeforemyeyes.

You've received a new

level!Congratulations!

You've received a uniquehuman ability: Berserk. Incaseofyourfightingunarmedwith less than 5% Health,you'll be able to ignore theenemy's defenses, dealingonlycriticaldamage.

The sight of youterrifies your enemy. They

flee,unabletoattackyou.I slid down onto the

bloodied floor. Some of theicehadmelted, forming littlered puddles. I keptshuddering. Then I began toretch.Icouldn'thelpit.Iwasconvulsing in revulsion. Ahum in my blocked earsreplacedthepiercingsilence.

My left arm hunglistlessly.Ididn'tfeelit.

The lifebarwasbarelyglowing. The pain wouldn'tsubside.Myinjuriesbled.Sothiswasyourgamerealityofthefuture?

***

The Berserk still

seemed to be working. Icould neither see nor thinkstraight in the all-consumingagony.

Ihadnothingtostaunchthe bleeding with. I didn'thave a single shred of fabricwith which to make atourniquet.

Mystarestoppedat thexenomorphI'djusttornapart.

Loot was loot. Eventhoughmystomachprotestedfiercely.Theentiregameplayseemed to defy convention.Take this Kicker, forinstance. What kind of

monster was that? A regularmonkey with slightly moredangerous teeth and claws.Andhowabouttheemotionalbackdrop? What was soterrifying about it? I'd seenmuch worse mobs andspookierlocationswhereyourteeth literally chattered withhorror. And what was this?An empty space fitted withsometoxinsandahandfulofmonkeys. Child's play, you'd

say:Iwasgettingabitjumpy,that'sall.

And you'd be right, ofcourse. Only the problemwas, I couldn't move myhand. I watched blood, hotandsticky,drippingfrommyfingers. Each breath strippedme of some hits but alsomademefeelphysicallysick.Youwannatry?

My inner opponentspromptly shut up,

demoralized.I crouched next to the

xenomorph and turned himover. Did you enjoy yourbreakfast,youbastard?

His facewasamessofbloodandgore.Hisskullhadcracked.Histeethweregone.

SohowwasIsupposedto search him? I could agreeto lots of things but thiswaspure trash. What kind ofdevelopers did they think

they were? He had no gear,forcrissakes!Allhehadwashis own skin covered withmatted hair. Did they wantmetocuthisbellyopen?

Squeamishly (I'd neverthought I was squeamishbefore) I touched themonster'sbelly.Ah!Thatwasclever!Hehadapouchthere.Justlikeakangaroo.

I pulled out someincomprehensible clot of

slime. I weighed it in myhand, studying it, trying tofocus.

A symbiont. Under

normal conditions, strips youof100pt.Life.Offersaone-off restoration of 1000 pt.Life if you're wounded.Metabolically compatiblewith the Kickers, Dargiansand the Haash. Its effect onhuman metabolism is

unknown due to the fact thatit has never been tested onhumans.

I sensed the familiar

weak spark of curiosity. Iwasn't going to consumesomething as disgusting asthat, of course. I didn't evenknowhowIwassupposed toinstallthewretchedthing.

The lump then stirred,stretchingoutasemblanceof

a tentacle — it must havesensedblood.

Bettersafethansorry,Ithought as I stashedmy lootaway into one of my gearpockets while lookingaround, listening intently.What was that saying I'dheard — You can never betooparanoid?Icouldn'tagreemore.

It looked like I didn'thave to fear another respawn

soon. The blood had alreadycaked.Thepainabated.Istillstruggled for breath but mylife bar was graduallyrestoring. I couldn't fight tosay the least, so I had to becautious and act quicklybeforethescaredxenomorphsreturned.

Only then did thethoughtstrikeme:whatdidIeven know about thePhantomServer?

Nothing, apparently,not to mention whatevermeagerexperienceI'dalreadyhad.JudgingbythequestsI'dreceived, thiswas some kindof technogenic world. Nowonder I'd seen thatspaceshiporwhateveritwas.The very name xenomorph,too,suitedthetheme.

So where was Isupposedtobe?

Well, that Ihad to find

out, didn't I? The obviouslyartificial smooth flooringcould mean anything. Thetoxins? Likewise. I had toexplore the location. As I'dalready foundout, thechoiceof direction was vital. Thethicker the haze, the moretoxic itwas. The green glowwasalsoprettyclear:Ihadtoavoid it, at least until I gotmyselfsomedecentgear.

I didn't even notice

when this Berserk thing hadwornoff.

Yes, it looked like mylifebarhadgrownabit.Fivepercentorso.I triedtomakeafuriousfacetoscareoffanyimaginaryNPCs,butwinced.The gaping wound thatstretchedfrommychintothecrown of my head smartedimmediately.

Never mind. I lookedscary enough as I did. I

couldn't see myself in themirroranditwasprobablyforthebetter.

The haze seemedthinner in one particulardirection. So that's where Iheadedtowardtheunknown.

***

ThistimeI'dchosenthe

right direction. The hazethinned out quickly. I could

breathe easier.Then I startedcoming across some weirdobjects.

Unfortunately, they didlittletochangemyopinionofthe designers' skill andattention to detail. Variousmolten structures suggestedthat this place had witnessedsome incredibly hightemperatures.

I tried toexplorea fewof the items. I'd stop and

focus, touchingasurfacethatlooked likeglassstrewnwithair bubbles. Pointless. Theinterface wasn't working. Ihad a funny feeling that thedevelopersdidn'treallyknowwhat itwas they had erectedhere or how we weresupposedtouseit.

Youthinkitabsurd?But did you ever have

to test a shamelessly rawproduct? I had. And I'd had

thesamefeelingasIdidhere:lots of empty locations withmarkers that were supposedto represent most gamingobjects. Utterly boring. Vastspaceswhereyoucouldwalkfor miles withoutencountering anything ofnote.

Wait. The interfaceseemedtowork,finally.

Now if I concentratedhard I could see the blurred,

shimmering outlines of theitems lurking inside themolten overhangs. I couldn'tmakeoutanydetails,though.

But it had to besomethingtrulyvaluable.

The vitrified surfacehadcrackedinplaces.Ibeganexploringafewoftheseweakspots, wincing as I tappedthem with a clenched fist. Ididn't try too hard. My lifewas restoring slowly. Their

regeneration rates were crap.IthadbeentenminutessinceI'd fought thexenomorphbutmyeverymovementstillhurt.

Whatever had theyhidden in there? Iwas dyingto find out. My decades ofgaming experience screamedthat this was some long-abandoned site. Possibly, Iwas the first person to haveevermade it here. The itemscould turnout tobepriceless

— unique, the only ones oftheirkind.

Thereyouhaveit.Iwasalready drooling over it.Leavingall thisbootybehindwas worse than nonchalance— itwas a crime.EspeciallyinmysituationwhenIhadnochance to do some properfarming.

So what did they haveinside?

At that moment I

sensedanunpleasantnaggingfeeling, as if I were a bugbeingwatched.Asifsomeonewas deciding whether tosquashmeorleavemebe.

I stopped and lookedaround but saw nothingunusual. The same darknessas everywhere else, studdedwith the flowing outlines ofvitrifiedmounds.

But the objects thatwereinsidethem,Icouldsee

themmuch clearer now!Thenagging feeling had left me,replacedbyamessage,

You cannot fully

explore the concealed itemswithoutamindexpander.

You need to install amind-expanding implant orpurchase a mobile scanner.You can also destroy theobstacle with a suitable toolof your choice. Chances of

damagingtheitem:90%.Oh well. I heaved a

sigh. Those implants again.Wherewas I supposed togetthem?

Never mind. I couldalwayscomeback.Iswitchedover to the location map.Aha. This was where I'dfound the radioactive ore.And this was where I wasnow. I added a placemark. I

absolutely had to come backatthefirstopportunityanddomybitofarcheology.

In the meantime, mylife bar had grown to thirtypercent.Moremessages keptflashing, reporting availableskill points, but at themoment I had nothing tospend them on. All of mychar's talent branches werestillclosed.

The Admins never

repliedtomyticket.

***I slowly limped toward

a yellowish glow I'd noticedfrom afar. I'd been in thegameforanhouralready.Sofar, my initial impressionshadbeenmixed.

The terrain graduallychanged. The annoying toxichaze was now gone. The

enormousceilinghadbecomelower while the moltenobjects had become morediverse.Heretheyweretaller,repeating the shape of someof the unidentified devices,forming chimeric figures,columns and arches leadingme from one room to thenext. There were moresourcesoflighthere.Someofthose weird shapes glowedweakly,too.Nowthedamage

to them seemed superficial;soonitwasgonecompletely.

I had already realizedthatIwaswalkingawayfromtheepicenterofsomeancientdisaster. Subconsciously Iexpected the normal gamingprocess to start any minutenow: the low-level NPCswould arrive, puttingeverythingbackintoplace.

As I tooka closer lookat the massive devices

surroundingme,Inoticedthatmost had been reduced tomereskeletons.Someonehaddone a good job ripping outeverything that was stillsalvageable or usable.Exactly. Itmade the artifactsstill concealed within themolten shapes all the morevaluable.

If I could only find asuitabletool,gobackandtryto break into the vitrified

mounds...Deep in thought, I

missed the new dangerentirely. The floor becamesteeperandcavedin,formingan enormous impact craterthat sneered at me with itsstumps of broken concretebeams and fracturedconstructionsteel.Bunchesofcables snaked everywhere. Islipped and lost my balance,tumblingover,cuttingmyself

on the sharp edges of themetallicdebris.

I somehowmanaged tograsp onto some eroded pipeor other and clung to it,castingcautiouslooksbelow.

Itwasagoodfifty-footfall, no less. A yellow lightseeped through an uglygaping hole below framedwith some gleaming metal.The crater was deep, almostvertical at its center. As I

grabbed at the dangerouslysqueaking bits of crumblingancient pipework, I lookedaround,takingintheopeningpanorama. The crater's steepsides were littered withmummified remains.Everywhere you turned, youcould see bits of unknowncreatures stuck between thewarpedpipesandthesnakingcables. Inoticedseveralsteellines disappear inside a hole

at the bottom and some sortof jury-riggedweldedgratingthat had apparently beenadded after the crater hadappeared.

My eyes were gettingused to the dim yellowishlight,allowingmetoseenewdetails.Apparentlythiswasaregularly used route and aplace of many a desperatecombat. Only a few of thebodies impaled on the

protruding bits ofconstruction steel looked likevictimsofanaccidentalfall.

A sudden bout ofvertigomademecling to thecrumblingpipes.

You're deprived of

oxygen! -2 pt. to Strength,Stamina, Agility andPerception.Youcan'tsurvivemuch longer without ametabolicimplant!

Iknow,Iknow.I froze trying to sit out

theboutofsickness—whichin fact had saved me somemuchmoreseriousproblems.

Long shadows rushedbelow. A muted screechingsound crept through therarefied air as about a dozenskinnysinewycreatureshoveinto view underneath andshinniedupthegrating.They

had no clothes on, only thefamiliarslavecollars.

I focused on one ofthem.This time the interfacereportedwithoutdelay,

A Haash. Sentient

Xenomorph. Level 17. Pilot.Currentstatus:Prisoner.

Sentient they may be,

buttheirframegavemecausefor serious concern. The

Haash were over eight foottall, skinny but incrediblystrong, with a reptilian-shapedskull.Theirarmswerelong, ending in four-digithands with strong multi-phalanxedfingers.

I froze studying them,pretending I was part of thesurroundingscenery,asmoreshadows appeared below andbeganscalingthegrates.Thistimetheywerestockyarmor-

cladwarriors.Again I focused, but

much to my disappointmentreceived no informationwhatsoever.

Without a mind

expander,youcannotidentifyan opponent in a pressuresuit. Find and install theimplant in order to read thestats of your opponent'sarmorandweapons.

Well, that remained to

be seen.The squat "gnomes"definitelylookedfamiliar.

I kept watching. TheHaash creatures had alreadyscrambledupanddisappearedfromview.

The gnomes climbednoisilyalbeitwithequalease.The hum of theirmicromotors and the clatterof steel reached far even

throughtherarefiedair.Araid!Thiswasaraid!I counted about fifty

squat figures in total. Theywere followed by some trulyweird creatures: a separategroup of what looked likejellyfishhoveringintheair.

The Guides, the

interfacereported.Chills ran upmy spine

—purelymentally,ofcourse,considering I was drippingwith sweat trying to stayinconspicuous.

The Guides definitelyseemed to be the ones incontroloftheraid.Isquintedtill my eyes hurt, followingtheir unhurried travel. Theirjelly-like bodies permeatedwith some gristly cartilagesubstance were generouslystuffed with various cyber

modules. This becameespecially clear when one ofthe creatures brushed againsta sharp metal fragment. Iexpected it to rip the thingopen. As if! A force fieldflashed open. Molten metalsplashed everywhere. Thecreature's translucent bodyfilled with a visible grid ofwhat looked like white-hotwire — the power fibersconnecting the multitude of

implants into one integratedsystem.

Dangerousthings.A couple of dozen

heavily loaded Haashfollowedup the rear.Despiteall their power and stamina,they staggered under thesheer weight of the hugecratefuls of equipment,struggling to climb up thegrating.

I decided to check the

information I'd receivedearlier.LockingmystareontothelastHaashin thegroup,Iread,

A Haash. Sentient

Xenomorph. Level 21. Pilot.Currentstatus:Prisoner.

You can set aPrisoner

freebydestroyingthecollar'scontrol module. Doing thiswill affect your reputation.

Not all Humans willappreciate your helping aXenomorph escape. This willaffect your reputation amongcertain human groupsdepending on the levels ofxenophobiatheypractice.

Finally some good

news! I'd already started tothink this was a game forsome rather sick individuals.Thenagain,whynot?Lotsof

people play for goblins, orcsand other mythical creatures—sowhynotxenomorphs?

While I was thusthinking, the Haash group inthe rear had already climbedout of the crater anddisappearedfromsight.

I breathed a sigh ofrelief,thenaskedmyself:nowwhere could this raid beheading?They'renotaftermyunique items by any chance,

arethey?Stop it, I told myself.

No need to be greedy. I'dalready done well for mylevel2.Itookacloserlookatthe crater's almost verticalwalls with their mummifiedbodies pinned to the mauledmetal.Thiswasmychancetofind something worth mywhile. I needed to get somegear and weapons before Ieven thought of pushing my

luck further by going downthecrater.

***

I decided to leave the

grating well alone and startfrom theopposite sideof thecrater.

My first impressionproved to be wrong. Thiswasn't a crater — nottechnically, anyway. I'd no

idea what could have causedahugeholelikethistoappearnor why would its walls,initially quite shallow, hadsuddenlygrownsosteep.

Forcing my waythrough the chaos ofmisshapenmetalwasn't easy.In actual fact, the structure'swalls resembled a layer cakeconceived by someone farremoved from the culinaryprofession.

Imagine strong sheetsof unknown metal interlacedwith compact layers ofvarious technogenic filling,such as pipelines of variousdiameter,powerducts(whichI'd initially mistaken forreinforcedsteel),unidentifieddevices and narrow servicetunnels.

I counted five suchlayers in total, their contentspartially gutted, broken and

molten. Their mechanicalguts hung out, interwoven,forming an unstable anddangeroussupport.

I took my timeclimbing over. Every nowand again the seeminglyreliable objects betrayed myexpectations, collapsing ordissolving into atreacherously loud avalancheofrubble.IfIlostmygrip,I'dfalltomydeath.Myrespawn

pointwaslocatedintheworstpossible place. Consideringthe raid that was heading inthatdirection,Ihadbetternottakeanychances.

I froze every time thedebris came crashing down,but no one had arrived tocheck out the suspiciousnoises. Gradually I got ahandle on it and threwcaution to the wind. Iadvancedfasternow.

Theunusual—I'dsay,excessive — authenticitylevels kept reminding me ofthemselves.Thepalmsofmyhands were now covered inblisters. Everymuscle inmybody ached. Any recklessmovement made my heartmissabeat.

I couldn't help it. Myneuroimplant seemed tohavea life of its own. It gotcompletely out of hand,

playingwithmyinstinctsandreflexes. Apparently itwanted me to know what itreally felt like, doingaerobaticsfiftyfeetup.

Whew. I made it. Afive-foot pipe led deep intothe floor'smysteriousdepths.I crawled inside it and laythererestoringmybreath,mymuscles soreandshaky fromtheunusualexercise.

Once I caught my

breath, I rolledoverontomyside. A yellowed skullgrinnedbackatme,piecesoffleshstillstickingtothebone.A "gnome". Let's see whatyouhaveforme,buddy.

Hispressurehelmetlaysome distance away. Ireached out and picked it uptostudyit.

Notmysize,definitely.Thecatchesdidn'tfit,either.Ifocusedtoread,

Cargonite helmet. Part

of the Cargonite armor suit.Equipped with an integratedcombat scanning system.Typical of the Dargiancivilization and worn byDargian pilots, raiders andscouts. Effect: +1 to Armor.The device in the slot is aslave collar controller. Thedeviceisdamagedandnotinworkingorder.

You can improve oralter the helmet to fit yourownsize. Inorder todo this,you will need a molecularconverter (you will have toprovide the blueprints of thedesired alterations).Alternatively,youmayhaveitdone by a master craftsmanin possession of the AlienTechnologies Expert abilityand Repairs and Scienceskills. Skill points required:

70.Theydidn'twantmuch,

did they? I turned thehelmetover in my hands and foundthe slot they'd mentioned.When I tried to prize thedamaged device out, thefollowingmessageappeared,

Skillrequiredtoremove

the module: Repairs. Pointsrequired:25.

They did like to

complicate things. I put thehelmet away into mygenerous hundred-slotinventory. The weight was aproblem though. Consideringthelowgravity,Icouldcarryahundredandfiftypounds.Ihadnoideahowitwasgoingto affect my speed andagility, but I hadmy doubts.How was I going to climb

downthoseflimsygratingsifmyweighthaddoubled?

So he was a Dargian,then. The gnome'smummifiedbodystucktothepipe. I turned him over,disregarding the sickeningcrunching sound. One of hisarms came off. Furtherinspection brought anotherdiscovery and yet moredisappointment. HisCargonitearmordidn'tfitmy

body type, and I onlymanaged to rip a couple ofimplants out of his body.Their stats were reduced tothree question marks and areminder that I needed tolevelupScience.

Thanks for the tip.Theimplants — the cyborgizingmodules — weighed next tonothing,soItookthemalong.

ThediscoveryI'dmeantwastheweapon.

It looked like asubmachine gun. The entirelength of the barrel wasbulging with the casings ofelectromagnetic accelerators.The stock housed batteryslots. That much was clear.Buthowaboutactuallyusingit?

ThistimeIwasinluck.IMP34, the interface

reported. Suitable for use by

all humanoid-type creatures.Weapon class: pulse. Bulletpropulsion is produced bybattery-poweredaccelerators.

The two indicators of

the micro nuclear batteriesglowed yellow. All themechanical parts seemed towork. The rate of fire sliderand the stiff firing buttonlooked simple and well-

conceived.Icouldn'thelpmyself.I

justhadtotryit.Ihadtofindouthowitworked,didn'tI?

The result wasimpressive.ItwasagoodjobI'dhadenoughsensetopointit at an old crate fifty feetaway. The single shotsounded woolly. The impactproduced a burst of flame asthe bullet evaporated thetimeworn metal, leaving

behind a fire-polished holethesizeofafist.

The blast waveshuddered through the air. Iducked inside the pipe andlaylow,waitingforallofthelocation's NPCs to comerunningandmakeaquickjobofme.Ichangedtheclipandbracedmyself.

I kept waiting. Thepulse in my temple clockeduptheseconds.

Inthelasthour,I'dbeenindecently lucky. No onecame.

I'd tested my weapon.Thingswerelookingup.

***

I scrambled further on

but encountered nothingextraordinary. Most bodiesprovedtobelongtotheHaashandtheDargians.They'dhad

one hell of a fight here. Thetraces of combat wereeverywhere: molten gaps inthe metal, impact craters ofenergy weapons; in places,wholesectionsofutilitylineshad been cut cleanly as ifwithaknife.

The Haash's gear waswaytoolargeforme.Shame.Too much weight withnothing to show for it. Iexpanded themapandadded

all the details I could,markingdownevery item I'dfound inorder tocomeback.If only I could find a vendortrading in armor and hightechdevices.Ipickeduptwomoretypesofpulseweapons:something that looked like ahandgunandananalogueofa12-millimeter sniper's rifle.This particular Haash hadfought to the last. I countedaboutadozenandahalfdead

Dargiansaroundhisposition.Hit byhis large-caliber, theirarmorwas only good for thescrapheap.

Iwas seriously tired. Itwas time to logout andgivemyself a break, but I knewfrom experience that leavingacharinaplacelikethisevenfor a short while was askingfortrouble.AcoupleoftimesI glimpsed the xenomorphs'stoopedoutlinesalmostoutof

myfieldofvision.Ididn'tgetthe chance to have a betterlookbutItookthepoint.

Bettersafethansorry.Ihadtofindasafeplacebeforetakingabreak.

AsIcollectedtheloot,Imoved closer to the grating.There, I'd have to decidewhether togodownorclimbup.

Going down was riskybut promising. Climbing up

probably wasn't a good idea.All I could find there wasmorexenomorphs,toxinsandradiation, with the addeddanger of walking into theraid. Alternatively, I couldfindapipeoraservicetunneland climb deep into it,barricadingmyselfin.

Was I the only smartonehere?

Duringmy next stop, Itookagoodlookaround.The

damaged lines seemed to beoccasionally releasing burstsof toxins that immediatelyfaded,dissolving into theair.Exactly my point. Whywouldn't xenomorphs usethese pipes as ready-madeholestolivein?

Thelowoxygencontentdidn't make my life anyeasier, triggering regularboutsofvertigoandnausea.

That's sorted, then. I

hadtogodown.

***Casting cautious looks

around,Iwasapproachingthemakeshiftsteelgrating,orthe"bridge", as I mentallybaptized it, when I had animpossible, incredible strokeofluck.

My eye chanced onsomething familiar. I peered

at it. That's right. Somethinggleamed a blurred purpleamid theheapsofdebris, thehue identical to that of myownarmor.

Without a secondthought, I climbed the shortdistance up, grabbing at thesagging bunches of cables attheriskoffallingtomydeathas my arms were alreadyshakingwithexhaustion.

A mouth of a rather

narrow tunnel opened up infrontofme.Asmallplatformhunginfrontofit,apparentlymade with whatever hadcomeinhandy.Ontopoftheplatform was a hideout. Theglow I'd noticed wasproducedbyaglove.

A human? I pulled arusty sheet of steel away.Behinditwasindeedahidingplace.

Icrouched,shakingmy

head.Whoeverhadmadethiswas a hardcore type. Hehadn't been interested insmallscale,buthadlainhereinwaitingforsomebiggame.A large-caliber sniper's rifle,quality gear, prearrangedescape routes— and still hehadn't made it. He wasliterally chopped down bylaserbeams.Hisarmorhadn'thelped him much. For somereason,Iimmediatelythought

aboutthejellyfish"Guides".Ihadafunnyfeelingtheywerethe only ones capable ofmakingsuchajobofahumanbody. Besides, the laserbeamsseemedtohavehithimdirectlyfromabove.

I still couldn'tunderstand lots of things.Take me, for instance.Havingreceiveddeadlydosesof both radiation and toxicgases, I had respawned

wearing full gear.Whywerethese bodies slowly decayinghere then, armor, weaponsandall?OrwasheanNPC?

Lots of questions, noanswers.

His armor looked verysimilar to mine. I threwcautiontothewindandbegancollectingthetrophies.Ittookme aminute towork out thejammed fixtures of hishelmet. Finally Iwas able to

remove it — and I lookedaway.

Sick motherfuckers! Ifelt my jaw lock. It was thefirst time in my life thatpickinguplootmademefeellikeagraverobber.

A human skull staredback at me with its sunkeneyesocketsframedwithlongmattedblondhair.

Agirl?I lay the skull gently

next to thebody. Iwanted toturn around and leave butstoppedmyselfjustintime.

Arbido had been right.The three years I'd spentplaying a paladin hadseriously affected my head.This wasn't the CrystalSphereanymore.AndIwasn'tthelevel430topplayer.

Trying not to look atthe skull, I crouched andpickedupthehelmet.

Not a trace of humanflesh inside. The discoverymade me feel better.Apparently, these bodiesdidn'tbelongtodeadplayers.Couldtheybepartofthegoryinteriordesign?

Iputthehelmeton.Thelocks clicked shut. The neckring rotated close. The dullmilky visor began to clear. Iglimpsed a brief sequence ofincomprehensible system

messages. With a hiss, therow of lights lining thehelmet's rim flickered andwentout.

You're not suffering

from oxygen deficiencyanymore, the interfacereported breezily, thenimmediatelythrewcoldwaterover my excitement,Warning! The battery chargeof the life support system is

dangerouslylow!Well, this I could

probably manage. I hadalreadybeguntofindmywayaround this new world. Ipickedupadamagedrifleandstudied its stock.Predictably,I found two micro nuclearbatteries still intact in theirslots. I replacedmyold oneswiththese.

The power lights

changed theirmode to a dullgreen.

Excellent.I didn't have any

qualmsaboutgettingmyselfapairofgloves.Theblistersonmy hands had by then longburst.IavoidedlookingatmybleedinghandsnordidIhaveto: the pain wouldn't let meforget about the damagedone.

Once I finished putting

mynewgearon,Ireceivedamessage,

You have collected a

fullsetoflightpressuregear.I studied thebonuses it

offered. Apparently, now Icould resist the toxic haze,low levels of oxygen andevenspenduptotwohoursina vacuum. That's what thecharge still left in the

batteries was going to last:two hours. I also discoveredtenemptyslotsforadditionalequipment.

The helmet only hadone option — which had tobe extremely expensiveconsidering its purpose. Itwas a set of electronic sightscompletewithaself-adaptingsystem of enemyvulnerability analysis and aballistic calculator which

computed all environmentalfactors such as gravity,atmospheric density, winddirection and force.Absolutely indispensable forextreme long-range snipermissions.

Actually, I could use ittoo, couldn't I? Why not?Now I could finally hunt afew xenomorphs if I wantedto. I could do a bit ofleveling, if the ammo and

remaining charge in thebatteriesallowed.

The idea was good,with the exception of a fewcons. My talent brancheswere still blocked. I couldstillgrowinlevels,ofcourse,simplyaccumulating thenewavailable skill and abilitypoints. Choosingspecialization, however,required some qualitythinkingtomakesureIdidn't

repent at my leisure later oninthegame.Atthemoment,Ididn't have enoughinformation about thePhantom Server world to beable to make this kind ofdecision.

But plain levelingwasn't going to domemuchgood, either. Game rulesdictated that my opponentsgrew in levels, too. Fightingthemonbarehitsalonewasn't

anoption.Some predicament.

ShouldIgohuntingorshouldI continue gathering intel,searching for the apparentlysoindispensableimplants?

AsIponderedoverthis,the pain in my hands wasreplaced with a pricklingsensation. My character'scartoonish outline in the tinystatus window had turnedgreen.

Yeah, right. Was thisworld geared towardtechnologyalone?

Iremovedmyleftgloveand studied the palm of myhand.JustasI'd thought.Nota trace of the injuries I'dreceived. Imagine theregeneration rate! Havingsaid that, the life support barhad shrunk considerably.There's no such thing as afree lunch — or a free

miracle. Everything has itsprice.

Thehuntwouldhavetowait. Ineededtostockuponbatteries and other suppliesbeforeeverythingelse.

My gaze chanced upona mummy's withered hand.The creaturemust have beena quest NPC, I thoughtnoticingadullmetallicglow.

Aring?Exactly. I carefully

removedit,tryingtostudyit,but no amount of focusinghelped me this time. Morequestion marks were all Icouldsee.

Okay. I had to startplaying at some point, afterall.

Islidtheplainringontomy own finger and verynearlyscreamedwithpain.

Themetalwasmelting!I tried to pull the morphing

ringoffmyfinger,butIcouldjust as well pull my ownfingeroff.Myvisionblurred,a sudden numbness touchingthebackofmyhead.Mylegsgave way under me. Islumped down, trying not tofaint,andliftedmylefthand,overcoming theever-growingpain.

The liquid metal hadrun, forming what nowlookedlikeasignetringmade

of quicksilver. Its surfaceturnedintoadiamond-shapedblob which began growing amultitudeofstalksverymuchlike the microscopic pins ofmy own neuroimplant. Ibroke into a cold sweat,watching them expand. Thenthey began filtering throughmyskin.

I suppressed a scream,gnashingmy teeth,wrigglingwithpainandhorror.Tohell

withsuchauthenticity!Grinding my teeth, I

wheezed, sweat dripping tothefloor.Tearswelledinmyeyes.

My left hand throbbedfromwristtofingertips.Anetof blood vessels appearedunder the pallid skin, fieryred as if they transportedliquidplasmaandnotblood.

I balanced on the edgeof consciousness, forcing

myselftostayaware.Noideawhy, considering the agonywasdreadful.You'd think I'dhave been happy to zone outforacoupleofminutes—butno, I stayed awake eventhough the torture seemed toneverend.

An intense auraenveloped my hand andflared up, dripping sparks.Thenitwentout.

My ears rang. In the

crimson darkness a newmessage flashed before myeyes,

New quest alert! Alien

Mind.Availability: only

HumansYou have found and

absorbeda technoartifactofthe Founders era. Find fourmoreinordertoputtogetheracompletemodule.

Reward:Unknown.That's when it finally

clicked.I turned my head

slowly and looked at theremains of the blonde girl.Her skull grinned ungainly,staring at me in silentsympathyasifforeseeingmyownfate.

I remembered Arbido'swarning.

No. I couldn't believethat this girl was a deadplayer.

I had to come back tothis question at some otherpointintime.

***

The remaining descent

went without any newsurprises.

The armor was

comfortable, leaving plentyof space for movement. Iusedmynewsnipersystemtostudy the way ahead but itdidn't detect any traps orenemieslyinginwait.

Islungthegunovermybackandsliddownthecable.Had it not been for thegloves,itwouldhavestrippedmyskintothebone.

I landed in a rathersmall room flooded with a

dull yellowish light. Nofurniture, no equipment — Ionlynoticedthegapingholeswhere some sort ofmountings had been rippedout of the walls. Through arather human-size doorway Icaughtaglimpseofabendingcorridor.

The only way wasstraighton.

Honestly,Iwasn'tabigfan of technogenic post-ap

worldsbut Iwas leftwithnochoice. Besides, they keptcontinuously rekindling myinterest,addingaliberaldoseofcheapthrills.

The silence was dulland muffled. Mechanically Iglanced atmy left hand.Thepain was long gone and sowas the numbness. I wasdyingtoremovetheglovebutIstoppedmyselfjustintime.The moment wasn't quite

right.The short arching

corridor took me to a largelow-ceilinged hall. Here, theairwas very rare. The soundof my footsteps died on thenoise-reducing flooring thatfelt spongy and springyunderfoot.

I looked around. Theplace resembled a largelooted warehouse.Everywhere I looked I could

see broken containers —oblongwithroundedcorners.Lots of sectionalizedbulkheads hindered myadvance.Theshelvingspaceswithin them fit the murky-greencontainersperfectly.

I proceeded slowly andcarefully, casting anoccasionalglanceonthemap.The gun in my hands hadofferedlittlesecuritysofar.Iknew from experience that

until I had tested it in battle,the two of us wouldn't beinclinedtotrusteachother.

Nothing special was asyet happening, and stilltension was growing insideme, a mind-chillingpremonition ringing like atautstring.

Another bend. Anothersectionalized bulkhead. Thistime the containers weren'tbrokenbut just lay there ina

heap. I tried to prize oneopen.Noway.Notasignofalock or any other accessdevice.

Yet another bend. Icould see the outline of theroom clearly on the map.Beyond it, everything wasdark.Wasitadeadend?

There was one way tofindout.

I stepped out, bracingmyself for whatever might

come next. I expectedanything.

Butnotthis.This was beyond all

expectation.I slowed down,

unthinking, oblivious toeverything around me, noteven noticing that thecontainers behind my backhad begun to glow with thesamecoursingofstatic.Thentheir tops fell apart into

segments which began toopenlikemechanicalflowers.

ButIhadn'tseenityet.This understanding wouldcomelater.NowmygazewasslowlysinkingintotheVoid.

An entire wall of thelarge room was in fact anenormousobservationblister.Beyond it, billions of brightstars clustered generously inspace.

Iwas smitten.Slowly I

approached the window,amazedat the clarity and thethinness of the material thatseparated me from thevacuum and its eternal cold.More pulses of energyshimmeredacrossitssurface.

Aforcefield?All the questions

crowdingmymindhadfadedaway, losing theirimportance. Countless moredetails came into view. I

could see a large ledge onelevelbelow,itsribbedsurfacearching toward the stars. Itscompartments were shapedrather like launch pads —some were empty whileothers offered a glimpse ofspaceships ready to take off.Judging by their size, theymust have been airspacehybrids.

Two planets glowed atadistance.Onewasyellowish

brown surrounded by severalrings; theothera lightbluishgray blotched by swirlingclouds.

I began to shiver. Amultitudeoftinysparkscouldbe seen moving on theforegroundofthemagnificentconstellations. Immediatelymy helmet reacted to mymental state, enlarging thesparks and bringing themcloser one by one, switching

betweenpotentialtargets.Enormous space

stationsfloatedinthedark.Aplethora of cargo craft andwarships scurried betweenthem.

Before I could get agoodlookatthem,thehelmetswitched to other objects.Several clusters of sometechnogenic Leviathansdrifted through space, theiroutlines dark and menacing,

their hulls gaping with pastimpacts. Iwas lookingat theaftermath of a space battlebetweensomeancientTitans!

My heart sank in awe.Thesheerscopeofitdwarfedyou, teasing yourimagination. All thisknowledge to pursue!Wouldonelifebeenoughtoexploreevery corner of this stellarsystem? And what if therewere even more of them

here? I focused on oneparticular spark of aspaceship orbiting thegrayish-blue planet until itzoomed in to a reasonablesize, descending, actuallyentering the planet'satmosphere!

Yeah, right. Did theymean you could land on aplanethere?

That could expand thealready-impressive world to

the size of infinity. And thatwasonlywhatIcouldseeandgrasp now. By the fact thatthe stars were stationary Iconcluded that the spacestation I was currently ondidn'trotate,whichmusthaveleft scores of unknownobjects hidden from view. Icould only guess about thetruescopeofthisworld.

The scintillating shockof this sudden change of

scenerybegantoreleaseme.Iwasn't yet trying to processwhat I'd just seen but I wasalready celebrating all thenew opportunities multipliedby the new gameplay'sdoubtlessauthenticity.

A suspicious noisedistractedmefromthescene.I swung round, instinctivelyraising my weapon buthaving no chance to shootfirst. Lightning-bolt

dischargeshitmefromeverydirectionatonce.

For a split second, thearmor had withstood theirpressure. Then my musclesfrozesolid.

You'vebeenparalyzed!Several mechanical

creatures were approachingme.Theylookedlikespheresa couple of feet in diameter,

with lots of sensors. Theirribbed tentacle-likemanipulators writhed aroundfreely.

Dargian combatdrones, my interface offeredhelpfully.

Another lightning bolthitme.Everythingwentdark.

***

I came round in a dark

personnel module, crampedand dirty, divided slapdashlyintotinylittlecells.

My armor was goneand so was my gun. I wasdressed in some crumpledoversized gray clothes. Onmyneckwasaslavecollar.

IcouldbarelyseeandIdefinitely couldn't thinkstraight.

Through the thickgloom I glimpsed a few

Haash-like shapes. Onehuddled on the floor in thecell next to mine; anotherclenched the bars of oneopposite,piercingmewithhisglare; the third one wascrouching, whining androckingfromsidetoside.

Thatwasmedonehere.Enoughfortoday!AllIcouldfeel was a mind-numbingexhaustion bordering onindifference. Never before

had I ever been so depletedbothphysicallyandmorally.

Should I just sit therecursing myself for being sogullible?Whatwasthepoint?I definitely hadn't been thefirst one who'd frozen open-mouthed at the observationwindow, dumbfounded,exposing his back to theconvenientlyarrivingdrones.

Anoobtrap.Very well. So I'd lost

my gun and my gear. Theyhadn't killed me on the spotwhichmeanttheyintendedtouse me. For the time being,my avatar wasn't riskingmuch — meaning, thingswereunlikelytogetworse.

That was settled, then.Time to log out. I needed abreak and a bite to eat, aswell as some quality sleepand time to thinkmyoptionsover.

I pressed the virtualbutton. Nothing happened.Instead, a message poppedup,

Your current status:

Prisoner. According to theTerms and Conditions youaccepted by signing, youcannot exit the testing modewhile being imprisoned. Westrongly recommend youactivate the in-mode by

sendingaremotecommandtoyour capsule. If you areunable to do so personally,send a message to ourtechnical support team tovisit your current physicallocation.

They were too much!

Allmyapathywasgone inaflash.

I hadn't signed anyterms or conditions! I hadn't

evenseenthem!Icutmyselfshort.Arbido. The bastard!

He'd signed it electronicallyinmyname,hadn't he?Howelse was he supposed toregister a Phantom Serveraccountforme?

I pressed the logoutbuttonagain.

New quest alert! A

PrisonBreak.

Find a way to escapefrom your currentimprisonment. In order to dothat, we strongly recommendyou activate the in-mode. Ifyou are unable to do sopersonally...

With a swipe of my

eyes,Igotridofthemessageandcrouchedonthefloor.

The Haash oppositewas still staring at me.

Whatever.I fell deep in thought,

none of it particularly rosy.The moment I was out ofhere, Arbido could kiss hisreputation goodbye. Thenagain, what was the point ofhimriskingitforthedubiouspleasure of setting me up?No. I wasn't buying it. Hecouldn't not have read theTAC before signing it. Notwith his experience.

Something smelled verybadlyhere.

This logout ban shouldhavesentalarmbellsringing.Then again, he had warnedme—orat leasthintedat it.Sowhathadhebeenplayingat?HadhehopedI'dbecomea mindless chunk of fleshwound with cables? Andwhat weremy prospects likenow?A lifelong coma in thetender care of miscellaneous

lifesupportsystems?After awhile, the door

clanged open. One of the"gnomes" walked in,accompanied by two drones.The lights went onautomatically. The Haashstepped back into their cellstrying to stayas far from thepassage between them aspossible.

Stillbrooding,Istudiedthegnome.Disgusting.There

was nothing human abouthim.Apushed-innose,apairof nasty beady eyes. A longface, an enormous toad-likemouth. Instead of hair, hisheadwascoveredwithwarts.Whataheinouscreature.

Ifocusedonhim.A Dargian. Sentient

Xenomorph. Level 22. SlaveDriver.

He had tons of hits—at least five hundred— plustwopurplebarsandanorangeone. Let's presume that thepurpleones signified the twodrones'status.Wheredidthatleave the orange one? Aparticular skill? An energysupply?

Pointless trying tosecond-guess it. I was goingto find it out sooner or later,anyway.

I justcouldn'tworkoutwhat had prompted them tocome up with such cripplingimprisonmentterms?

Therewasacatchtheresomewhere, I just knew it. Ialso knew that getting to thebottom of the logout banwasn'tgoingtobeeasy.Still,Iwoulddoit.

In the meantime, theDargian stopped in front ofmycell.

Ididn'tavoidhisstare.Ihad nothing to lose.Somehow I doubted they'dchanged my respawn point.But still I didn'twant to findout.

He grinned, as ifreading my thoughts, andpointed at theHaash.On hissignal, the drones bent theirribbedtentaclesandpepperedthe prisoner with pulsecharges.

Blood and pieces offleshfleweverywhere.ThenInoticed the air shimmeringgreentomyright.

Arespawn.TheHaashwincedwith

pain, growling under hisbreath. Point taken. Theymade it perfectly clear thatmy death would be equallypainful and ignominious,followed by my immediatereinstatementasaslave.

Lesson learned. I putthis particular SentientXenomorph on my personalKOSlist.Forthosenotintheknow,KOSstandsforKillonSight.

He grinned again. Themagnetic locks clicked. Thedoorofmycellslidaside.

I lunged forward,aiming for his throat. Mycollar self-constricted,strangling me. The ever-

watchfuldronesrewardedmewithtwoparalyzingcharges.

I didn't loseconsciousness. I hurt, furyclenchingatmythroatharderthan the collar itself. Allpointless.

The Dargian enteredmy cell and lifted me in theair. He laid me on the floorandunbuttonedthetopofmyclothes.

I tried to struggle free

but failed.Mymuscles werelaxandunmoving.Fora fewmoments,thegnomewatchedme.Finally,satisfiedwithmyhelpless state, he produced anarrow box made of blackplastic and touched a sensorbuttononit.

A servomotor hissedgently.Abluishglowescapedthe inside of the box. Fiveidentical devices in theirrespective nests radiated an

intense light, each reachingout with thread-like chargesof energy that probed the airaround them blindly, as ifgropingfora...avictim.

TheDargiangavemeadirty look.His gaze focused.His fat fingers touched myrightupperarm,squeezinganinvisible pressure point. Painsurgedthroughme.

Anatomy had neverbeenmy forte. He, however,

seemedtoknowwhathewasdoing, feeling for a largenerve center. He found oneandwheezed,reachingforhisbox, then reconsidered. Hisgaze focused again, studyingme. His short fat fingersreachedformythroat.

Cold sweat erupted onmy forehead. I wasimmobilized and utterlyhelpless while he gruntedwithcontentment, feeling the

vertebrae at the base of myskull.

No, he was wrongagain. His beady eyes grewharsh. The Dargian wasgetting nervous, apparentlyunable to find the problem. Ican't have been the firsthuman prisoner they'd hadhere, but now things seemedto have gotten out of hand.Something wasn't workingrightforhim.

Myparalysisseemedtobewearing off. I tried not toshowitbut thegnome'skeeneye immediately noticed mycheektwitch.

More paralyzingcharges tore at my mind,plunging me into a brief butwelcome slumber. Thenreality returned, drenched inpain and fear. Theneuroimplant flooded mybrainwith an entire range of

painful feelings available forall those billions of creditsinvestedinitsdevelopment.

Theobjectsandactionsaround me came back intofocus.

The Dargian leanedover me, panting heavily. Inone open hand he held aglowing ball of thread-likeenergies. In the other heclenched some sort ofsurgical tool. The Haash

craned their necks, watchingthe scene in silent tension. Ithought I noticed a glint ofsympathy inone's stare.Thatwas the thing that finallydidmyheadin.

Suddenly I knew.Arbido had been right. Thiswasaplaceofnoreturn.Firstthe neuroimplant turned thegame into reality; then thedevelopers' sick mercenaryimagination joined in,

wishing to evaluate, at theseearly testing stages, theadaptivity threshold of thehuman mind, creatingneurogram databases andtrying to determine theauthenticitylevelatwhichthegame'sworldwouldturnintoavirtualtomb.

I assure you it's veryscary when you suddenlyrealize that the monstercoming for you is real. That

the rusty iron hook that heuses to strike sparks on thewall could soon tear yourflesh apart. This is when thegameceasestoexist.Attheseauthenticity levels, the brainjust can't tell the truth fromfiction.Oneblowfollowedbygoing into pain shock couldresult, instead of a respawn,inavery realdeadbody.Noamount of the "in-mode"couldhelphere.

Allthisflashedthroughmy mind as some sort ofintuitiveepiphany.

SoallthosedeadbodiesinfullgearI'dbelievedtobepart of the scenery were infactdeadplayers?

No. It didn't sum up. Irefusedtobelieveit!

The black box in hishandsjolted.

A wound gaped in myupperarm, reekingofburned

flesh. There was no blood:thelaserdischargehadsearedthebloodvesselsclosed.TheDargianbentdown,grinning.The ball of crackling electricchargeslidoffhishand rightintothewound.

Itdoesn'thurt!Myeyespoppedout.It doesn't hurt! It's a

game!Itcan'thurt!My mind shut down

mercifully.

***

I survived but it took

mesometimetorecover.Ihadnoideahowmuch

time had passed. The woundon my arm had closed,leavinganunpleasanttinglingsensation under the skin likethe crawling of a tinymechanicalbug.

The icon of a new

system message keptflashing.Iopenedit.

I Can Hear Them:

questcompleted!You have successfully

implanted a semanticprocessor module. Now youcan understand the languageoftheXenomorphs!

+1bonustoIntellect+2bonustoPerceptionYou'vereachedthenext

level! You have new Talentand Characteristic pointsavailable!

I was surprised to

discover a letter from theAdmins. Had they finallyrepliedtomyticket?

Oh no. This wasmuchmoreserious:

We inform you of the

following actions we have

undertaken:1.A support grouphas

been dispatched to theaddressyouprovided.

2.Thecapsulehasbeenserviced, including theactivationofthein-modeandreplacement of life supportcartridges.

3.We have studied theexisting neurograms in orderto optimize theneuroimplant's functionality.

Feedback levels have beenloweredsevenpercent.Thankyouforyourcooperation.

Scumbags.Then again, what was

the point in spouting bilenow?Ithadbeenmydecisionfromthestart.

I chose not to arguewith myself. Instead, Ichecked my inventory. Allmy possessions were still

there: the Dargian carbonitehelmet, a full set of humanpressurizers and three typesofweapons.

The slots in my gearworked too. The only thingmissing was the fact that allthebatteriesweredead,armoras well as weapons.Withoutthem,mygearwaslittlemorethanaheapoftechnojunk.

I activated the PrisonBreak quest but found no

prompts. It was swim ordrown.

Whatwasthedealwithmynewabilities?

I looked around me.Indeed, my perceptionseemed to have upped anotch.Icouldseemuchbetterinthedark.

It was time to try thissemantic thing. I lookedaroundme, searching for theHaash who'd looked at me

with sympathy, and tried tostrikeupafriendship.

"Hi. How did you endup here?" I asked the firstthingthatcametomind.

He paused, casting asidewaysglanceatthefellowprisoners.Thenhenodded.

The mnemonic inboxblinked its icon. Mindboggles. Were we going toconverse telepathically? Myinterface had no virtual

keyboard: the advent of theneuroimplants had renderedthemobsolete.

AreyouaHuman?I crouched, leaningmy

back against the cold wall,and closed my eyes.Nice tomeetyou.

It felt weird. My veryfirst attempt to use themnemonic chat. Formingphrases in my mind wasn'teasy.Myname'sZander.

I'd already noticed thatcharacters had no nicknameshere but I'd explained thisawaybythefactthatI'dsofaronlymetNPCs.

Apparently, I'd beenwrong.

I was speaking toanotherplayer!

My...name's...Charon.I opened my eyes and

tried to focus. That's right. Icould see nicknames now.

Did thatmean that I couldn'tidentify the players properlywithout this semantic thingyoftheirs?

I hurried to check myKOSlist.

That's right. The char'sinformation had grown. TheDargian slave driver'snicknamewasRash.

Charon? Have youbeenherelong?

Two full orbits, he

answered promptly butobscurely.

Twowhat?Twocompletecirclesof

thestationaroundthestar.Youmean two years? I

couldn't conceal myastonishment. Were thedevelopers ravingmad? Twoyears? The skin on the backof my head tingled, growingtaut. I gulped, trying to calmdown. Have you tried to

escape?Impossible, the Haash

answereddarkly.Well, that remained to

beseen.What's the problem? I

struggled to pose clear-cutquestions. I neededinformation badly.Personally, I wasn't going tostayherelong.

Rash is strong. Youcan'tremovethecollar.Itwill

strangleyou.Thedroneswillparalyze you, Charon listedtheproblemsonebyone.Wehave nowhere to run, headded after a pause. Thisstation has suffered a lot ofdamage. It's not easy tosurvivehere.

How about the otherstations?Andtheplanet?

They won't let us in.AndtheplanetbelongstotheDargians.It'stheirworld.

I felt curious. Whereareyoufrom,then?

I'm from another starsystem,heansweredcalmly.

I paused, thinking. Ididn't want to play fatherconfessor to the guy just tofind out why he'd chosen axenomorph as his char. Thegamingworldshadtheirownetiquette.He'dtellmehimselfwhen he was ready. If hedidn't, then I'd just have to

considerhimaxenomorph.Verywell.Iopenedthe

inventory and checked myhelmet's stats. The brokendevice was still there. Rashwas going to regret hisoversight.

I addressed Charonagain,Areyouapilot?

Yes.Excellent. Time to try

out more complex messageoptions. I wasn't sure if I

could do it but surely itcouldn't be more difficultthansendinganMMS?

Iclosedmyeyestryingtorecreatetheviewoutoftheobservation window justbefore the drones hadattackedme.Theviewof thestation'sdockingfacilities.

The Haash followedthis mental picture withinterest. This kind ofcommunication sent shivers

down my spine. Still, I wasgettingusedtoit.

Youknowwhatitis?That's Yrob! despair

wasrapidlydrainingfromhisvoice.

Whichis?One of our ships. We

arrived at this system, hefaltered, in a big ship. WewantedtostudytheFounders'stations. The Dargiansattacked us. They destroyed

the mothership. Our groupbrokeawayand landedhere.Thentheycapturedus.

I see. What do theywant fromyou?Howdo theyuseyou?

They want to use ourknowledge. To study ourships.

And none of you hasever broken down and toldthem anything? After twoyears?

We have. We showedthem. After torture. But theycan't fly them. They don'tknow how to. These are ourships. They're not easy, hefaltered again, searching forthe right word, not easy tocustomize.Lotsof thingswillhavetobechanged.

Aretheyflightworthy?There's nowhere to fly

to.How about the station

next to this one? Whocontrolsit?

Humans.Yourrace.Are they a problem? I

remembered the warningmessage about potentialrepercussions of my mixingwith"xenomorphs".

They'llkillus.Howdoyouknow?We divided into two

flights during the attack. Mygroupheadedhere.Theother

wenttotheotherstation.Thehumans took them prisoner.Thentheykilledthem.

It'sbeentwoyears.Lotsofthingshavechangedsince,I assured him even though Ididn't know much. Oneproblem at a time. At themoment, theHaashweremyonlychanceofgettingoutofhere. It wasn't that I wastrying to take advantage ofCharon. But I knew that in

order to survive, a gamingworld was obliged to have awell-developed economy. Ifthe Dargians owned theplanet and the humans werein possession of the station,theywereboundtoengageinintensive trade with eachother. Which loweredxenophobia levels bydefinition. This I knew fromexperience.

Wecan'tescape.

They had brokenCharon's spirit well, hadn'tthey?

We can still try! I, onthe contrary, was filled withresolve, my mind replayingvarious options, goingthrough the details of mydaringplan.

Wecan't.Why? You don't even

knowwhatIwanttosay!We don't have enough

ships. Only three are stillfunctional.Andwearemany,he sent me a mental image.AtleastfiftyHaashprisoners!

We can escapetogether, the two of us, Icameupwithasolution.

A long pause hung intheair ashemulledovermywords, exchanging awhispered word with otherprisoners.

If I escape, the

Dargianswillkillthem.Not necessarily, I

expected him to saysomething like that, so I'dcome up with a suitableresponse.Alltheyneedtosayis that it was all your idea.That they're happy to servetheir masters. Trust me, it'llwork. In fact, you can justblameeverythingonme!

Will you help us? theHaash sidled over to their

bars, hope and mistrust intheireyes.

I felt uncomfortable.What could I promise themwith my laughable level 3?Still, Icouldn'tevenconsiderthis torturous imprisonmentfor much longer. So Iansweredconfidently,

I will! You've beensuffering here for two yearsalready. Do you think youcan take it for a little bit

longer?Theynodded.No sooner than I gave

them this questionablepromise, a message poppedup,

New quest alert! The

TiesthatBind.Help theHaash escape

fromthestation.Deadline:50days.

Reward: doubtful,

unknown. Your relationshipwith the Humans maydeteriorateconsiderably.

I paused, thinking. It

wasnogoodtryingtogetoutof herewithout a pilot and aship.

Whatever. Once theLogout button was back on,I'd have plenty of time tothinkitover.

IpressedAccept.

ChapterTwo

PhantomServer.Login

Charon and Iimmediately set aboutplottingourescape.Althoughmyexperiencewaslimitedtogaming, it suggested that weshouldn'tdragitout.

The distance betweenthe bars was enough tosqueeze my Dargian helmetthrough it. I "discarded" itfrom my inventory. Itworked. Charon picked it upwithoutaproblem.

"Why?" he studied thehelmet. His unusual stuntedspeech patterns drove me todistractionsometimes.

"Doyouhave someonewithtechskillsmaxedout?"Iasked.

My question hung inthe air. Somehow I didn'tthink they understood me.Which was weird: howsimple was it? Then again,two years spent in

confinement must have beenrough. Their mental statemust have suffered a terribleblow.

"I mean I need agoodtech."

Now they nodded theirunderstanding. The helmetbeganchanginghandsuntilitended up in the cell ofsomeone called Danezerath.Somename.Hehadprobablyjoined late in thegamewhen

all the nice nicknames hadalready been taken so he'djust entered a randomcombinationorusedthenamegenerator. Happens to thebestofus.

"Danny," I adapted hisnametomyliking.Itsoundedridiculouslyoutofsynchwithhis Haash appearance but hedidn'tprotest."Havealookatthe device in the slot. Youthinkyoucantakeitout?"

He easily removed thebroken module and beganstudyingit.

"I need to have itrepaired¸" I defined theproblem. The Haash can beterribly slow on the uptake.Still, I didn't want to rushthem.Theimpossibilitytologoutcouldturnanyoneintoanemotional wreck. We maysay thatwe don't really needthe real world, but it's

extremely important to knowthatyoucanquit thegameatanymoment and never comeback again. I had no ideawhat I'd feel after two yearsspentinlimbo.

Danezerathsatdownonthefloorandbegantakingthedevice apart in skilledpracticedmotions.

Charon glanced at me,hopeanddoubtinhisstare.Itried to get as much

information out of him as Icould."Whydidtheyimplantme with the semanticprocessor?"

He answered promptlywithout even thinking, "Theydo it to everybody. TheDargians love bossingeveryone around. They gomad when you don'tunderstand them. The topdecks are dangerous. Quickinformation exchange equals

survival.""Whatdo theywanton

thetopdecks?""They look for the

Founders'devices.Aswellasore, power supplies andancientmachines."

"Why?""The Dargians are

restoringalargeancientship.Once they finish doing it, awarwillstart."

"Withhumans?"

"No.TheDargianswilleliminate them. They aim totakeovertheirplanet."

"Does it mean slavedriversareoutlaws?"

Henodded."Theirownworld treats them ascriminals."

"Andhumans?Howdohumanstreatthem?"

Charoncringed.Ididn'tlike the expression on hisface.

"Humans are bad," hisvoice changed, allowing afew angry hissing notes."They're all for themselves.Againsteverybodyelse."

Most likely, the stationI hoped to get to wascontrolled by gamers' clans.Noideayetwhytheyweresoaggressive towardxenomorphs. I'd better startthinking how not to end upcaught between the gears of

theirwarmachine.Aftersomepondering,I

thought I'd come up with asuitable solution. I didn't sayanything to Charon though,not yet. He wasn't going tolikeit.

In the meantime,Danezerath had already putthe device back together.Now he was shuffling fromfoot to foot nearby, castingoccasionalglancesmyway.

"And? Cut the crap,"my rude tone didn't seem tooffendhimatall."Report!"

"I'vefixedit."So! That was

impressive."Let'stestit,then.Can you switch off mycollar?"

"I can't," he lookeddown guiltily. "I need apowersupply."

"Okay then, you canstashitsomewhere."

I turned to Charon."We'll need micro nuclearbatteries. Seven or eight.Think you can get hold ofthem?"

He gave it somethought and nodded, "Half-charged, yes. We'll have towork now.The overseerwillcome soon. I'll try to get afewbatteries.Canyoutellmehowyouwantustoescape?"

"That's my problem," I

wasn't quite prepared to laymy trump card on the table.WatchingtheHaashandtheirbehavior, I could clearly seethat the majority of themwere broken. They hadaccepted their situation andwere obviously scared of theDargians. Entrusting mysecret to them would berather stupid. I couldn't dothat.

Thearrivalof theslave

driver saved me from morequestions. He wore a fullspace suit. Silently heunlockedthecagesandleft.

The Haash begansuiting up. I followed theirexample,thenwalkedoutintothe corridor where about adozendroneswereoverseeingthe procedure. Silently theDargian began distributingthe micro nuclear batteries:oneeach.Iclickedit intothe

slot. Thirty percent charge.Notalot.

The communicationsystemclickedon.

"Move it!" a commandcrackled.

I experienced anunnatural surge of energy. Iwas buzzing, my perceptionsharpened.Myhatred for theDargianswasstilltherebutitsort of withdrew, peeringspitefully from behind a

barricadeofcommonsense.Icouldn't afford doinganything stupid now. So Itrailed along obedientlywithout raisingmy head,mygaze shuffling through theinterfaceiconslookingfortheoptionIneeded.Thereitwas.The map hadn’t beenblocked. Excellent. I hadn'thadthechancetoexplorethelocation,sonowthethinlineof our route lay through the

omnipresent expanse of themistofwar.

Weheadedforthedeckbelow. I marked down averticalshaftthatlookedverymuchlikeanobsoletegravityelevator.We began climbingdown using the manholesteps.About halfway down Inoticed the shimmer of aforce field. That wasworrying.Now itwas barelyvisible, letting the Haash

throughwith just a hint of aspark,butiftheplacewasputonfullalert,itwouldshutourroute down. We had topreparefortheworst.

I cast a fewinconspicuous glancesaround. The shaft's wallssported a few semi-sphericalblobs. Emitters, most likely.Oncewewereback, I'dhavetoasktheHaashaboutthem.

We'dlefttheforcefield

behind. The sensors on therimofmyvisorchangedtheircolor.We were floating in avacuum.

The experience wasunusual.AwkwardlyItriedtomove, feeling nausea rise upto my throat. Was this zerogravity?

My sense of balancewas confused. Unwillingly Ilet go of the step. I wasfloating. I waved my hands

aroundme,tryingtogetholdof something. I hit the wallandbouncedback.TheHaashdescended with a practicedease. The slave driver wasalreadybelow,lookingatme.It must have been funwatchinganewblikemyself.

IallowedtheDargianagenerous eyeful. Let himthink I was useless. In fact,the nausea had subsidedquickly as my old skills had

kicked in. Ten yearspreviously, I'd spent somequality game time in a spacestationsimulator.Thejobwasa pain: solving all sorts oftechnical problems whilefloating in mid-air, but atleast now it had done me agoodturn.

I bounced all the waydown the elevator shaft andfloated out, spreading myarms wide as I enjoyed the

sensation of flight whiletrying to suppress aninstinctive bout of fear.AwkwardlyIhit the ledgeofa structure overhead andricocheted up, helplesslydriftingawayintothevoid.

Iwasscared,ofcourse,but the risk was worth it.From above, I could see theexternallaunchpadandcouldmake all the screenshots Ineeded to study them at

leisure.The Dargian looked

worried.Ididn'tthinkhe'dbedisciplined for the loss of aprisoner. I'd respawn in mycell anyway. But the delaycaused by my freefall couldcost him.TheHaash stoppedmoving, watching me driftaway. They stoodcomfortably and confidentlythanks to a special substancethatcoveredthesolesoftheir

spaceboots.A few drones took off

afterme.Theycaughtupwithme quickly, their snakingmanipulators hitching meunder the arms and towingmeback.

The Dargian wasfuriousbuthecouldn'tpunchme. The communicationsystemcrackledagain.

"Remember:onlyplaceyour foot on an even

surface!" he instructed me."Canyoufeelitlock?"

Inodded.Bothmy feetfelt glued to the surface."HowcanIwalk,then?"

"You slide," hequipped. Another delay willmean three deaths in yourcell."

Okay. I got it. I brokemy footing with the surfaceand slid off, then stoppedabruptly, lodging my foot

firmly on it. This worked.Nowtheotherfoot...

Unlike me, the Haashproceeded quickly. Theyseemedtobeusedtothiskindof space walk. I laggedconsiderably behind but atleastIwastrying.SoonIgotthe hang of it, moving myfeet rather well. One of thedronesfollowedmeclosely.

I didn't have a chanceto enjoy the beauty of space.

Only occasionally during ourshort breaks did I get achance to take instant pics,seeing as no one could havecaughtmedoingso.

TheHaashwerealreadyfar ahead. I was amazed attheiragilityandcoordination.Infrontofuslaysomesortofwallofheaped-updebris.TheHaash took it in their stride,moving in well calculatedleapsfromonesupporttothe

next.WishIcouldlearntodothe same, otherwise I couldjeopardize our entire escapeplan.Itwouldbenogoodmecrawling like a crab whentherewas a chasehot onourheels.

Suddenly the collarconstricted, strangling me.The slave driver appearedfrom around the bend. Helookedfurious.

Ispreadmyarmswide,

gesturing my willingness todomybest.

I couldn't see theDargian's face. The visor ofhis helmet was opaque. Noidea how he was seeingeverything around him. Heprobablyhada screenon theinsideofthehelmet—eitherthat or he was in possessionofsomeuniqueability.

I couldn't breathe. Istartedwheezing.

He came close to meand mumbled somethingbitterly. Suddenly a newdevice appeared in myarmor'sslot.

The collar released itsgripslightly.

"Watch where you'regoing!"

The meaning of itwasn't quite clear. Still, Iobeyed. I found a small flatplatformhalfway through the

destroyed area. Suddenly thethin broken line of my pathbecame visible in myprojection visor.Mechanically my brainprocessed the information,sending my legs moving ontheir own accord, reachingmy destination in a series ofleaps.

Wow.That was breathtaking.

Whileboththedroneandthe

slave driver approached, Istudiedthesurprisegift.

The Movement

Coordinator. Produced byHaash technology. Suitablefor use by all humanoidspecies. Define yourdestination, then allow thesystem to calculate theoptimaleffortnecessary.

Thiswasawesome.

IjusthopedtheDargiandidn't claim it back on ourreturn.Thiswasamostusefulthing. Without it, movingalong the station's deformedhullwouldbemurder.

I hurried to catch upwiththerest.TodayIwasanobedientandhelpfulprisoner,readytodoanythingtheytoldmeto.

The ridge of mangledmetal ended abruptly,

revealing an enormous openspace.

I froze unwittingly.Here, thestation'shullwasn'tdamaged. But that wasn'twhat had puzzled me so. Inthemiddleofavastplatform,clutching at its launchingtowers, sat a giganticspaceship.

Some damage it hadtaken! My eye slid along itssoft outlines, noticing a

multitudeofgapingholesandother damage. The Haashwerealreadybusyworkinginseveralgroups.Someofthemwere removing the warpeddiamond-shapedarmorplates,others were checking theutilitylineswhileyetmoreofthem were bringing newarmor segments, installingthem into the restoredmountings.

Apiercinglightflashed

nearby. Some Dargians wereworking there: you couldn'tconfusetheirsquatfiguresforanyone else. Armed withplasma torches, they werecutting out more diamond-shapeplates.

I began descending,using every opportunity totake some panoramicscreenshots.

The first impressionwasquitemind-blowing.The

ship was rather big, aboutthree hundred feet indiameter. But when Iremembered the veritableLeviathans drifting nearby, Ibegantorealizehowtinythisshipwascomparedtothem.

Whatever made theHaashthinktheDargianslavedrivers could use it to attackandeveninvadetheirplanet?

We'llsee.

***Thatday Ihad towork

longandhard.As it turned out, the

station did have its owngravity. I hadn't noticed atfirst that my freefall jumps,controlled by the movementcoordinator, did have acertain trajectory. But themomentIwasorderedtohelpbring in the armor plates, I

sensed the artificial gravitystraight away. As the Haashexplained to me, its sourcewaslocatedsomewhereinthestation'sunexploredbowels.

Lugging the multi-tonparts proved hard. I wasstruggling;bytheendIcouldbarely move my feet. TheHaash were taking it muchbetter: they were bothstrongerandusedtothiskindofwork.

One of the dronesfollowed me everywhere. Istudied it inconspicuously.Why would Dargians useprisoners for the job if theycould use machines instead?Surely drones could do thework more efficiently andwithbetterprecision?

I didn't get a chance togetclosetotheship.

By evening, I hadplentyofquestionstoaskthe

Haash. But once back in thecrumpleddarknessofmycell,Iwastooexhaustedtotalk.

Icouldn'tkeepmyeyesopen. I was neither hungrynor thirsty, the capsule's lifesupportmoduleprovidingmymortal body with everythingitmightneed.But sleep, thatwas something I had to getformyself.

***

Ididn'thavethechance

to sleep properly. Mymnemonic interface beepedinsistently, another person'smindwavesforcingtheirwaythrough all the filters,rendering me awash withanxiety.

Whatisit?Ten micro nuclear

batteries, Charon reported.Each thirty percent full. Is

thatenough?The Haash didn't seem

to sleep at all. Were theymadeofsteel?

I shook myself out ofmy slumber. Time to getworking.Ilookedthroughthescreenshots I'd made earlier,forwarding some to Charon.You could clearly see thefighter craft in their dockingpods. There were seven ofthem. There, the makeshift

"path" forked, the crudelywelded sheets of metal laidright on top of the ravagedupperstructures.

I wanted to know whywe'd had to move on theoutside of the station. Whysuch an awkward anddangerousroute?Couldn'tweget to the launchpadand theancient ship via internaltunnels?

Charon answered

willingly. Apparently, theDargians had only managedto reclaim about a dozensections for themselves. Therest was still part of theFounders' ancienttechnosphere. Most adjacentcorridors were blocked withsecurity devices thatrespawned in under eightSeggs. Charon's use of someweird time and distancemeasurements made it hard

for us to understand eachother. He had really growninto his gaming character'srole!

What a shame for him,I pondered. He must havebeen a normal kid who'ddecidedtomakeaquickbuckby participating in this alphatesting thing, andwhat now?Was his mind deformedirreversibly?

The thought made me

cold and empty inside.Compared to him, I'd beenlucky. My neuroimplant hadbeen a much more advancedmodel;besides,Ihadadaptedto the direct neurosensorycontact while playing inmuchmoreforgivingworlds.

The thought didn'tsound like fun. Now I didn'thave the slightest doubt thatthe whole "closed alphatesting" thing was only an

excuse to have a trial run ofthe new device. I'd haveloved to know how manyplayershadarrivedherewiththe first wave and if any ofthemwerestillalive.

This theory could alsoexplain the existence of the"alternative start".Understandably, the testoperators wanted tomilk thesubjects of their experimentforanythingtheywereworth.

And the developers wereinterested primarily in thecharacter's behavior invariousemergencysituations.Theydidn't care about his orher reaction to thecomfortable process ofmundaneleveling.

If this is not clearenough, letme explain.Herewe were watching the futureofgaming in themaking.Bythe time of the revolutionary

game's release, they had hadto bring the risks of players'death or insanity down toacceptable figures. Thedevelopers had to amass awealth of statistics, createnumerous neurogramdatabases and optimizefeedback,allinordertoallowthe consumer to experienceincredible new sensationswithout theriskofendingupin the morgue or a mental

asylum.Myconclusionsweren't

happy to say the least.Surviving here (literally)wasn't going to be easy. I'dhavetoaccepttherulesofthegame and act ruthlessly butcautiously if I didn't want tobecome a new stage prop todecorate their scenery. TakeCharon, for instance. Let'spresume he'd escape — andthen what? Would his mind,

distorted by the implant'scontinuous use, be able tocomebacktoreallife?

Most likely, he'd beappalled. By then, hisphysical body would havebeeninthein-modeforyears.But that wasn't the worstthing about it. He reallythought he was a Haash! Hewas now a true xenomorph,both in his actions and histrain of thought. Exactly. I

never envied the playerswho'd been tempted by theexoticabilitiesofalienraces.I was pretty sure that all ofthemhadaspecialversionofthe neuroimplant installed,one that contained additionalneural chains that gradually,bit by bit, distorted theirmindsets.

Why did I think so?Well, once you grasped theessence of what was going

on, adding details to it waseasy. Watching the Dargianswouldbeenough.Howmuchof human nature had theypreserved?

I could be utterlywrong, of course. Each andevery "sentient xenomorph"could be just an AI modulecomplete with its ownmindsetandevenidentity.

I couldn't really judge,notyet.As far as Iknew,no

one had ever created a fullyfunctionalartificialintellect.

So if you thought Icould think of nothing butgamingyoumightbeinforasurprise.Inthistechnologicalera,self-educationisconstantandnatural.My jobadded toit, too. Earlier I'd mentionedthespacestationsimulator.Amore boring gameplay youcan't even begin to imagine.With one catch: completing

their quests demanded realknowledge. These kinds ofeducational games have theirplace and their niche,sometimesbecoming thefirststepinaprofessionalcareer.

Corporation recruiterscall itdredging.Theycloselywatch thesesimulatorsas theeasiestwaytodiscovergrainsof talent amid tons of onlinefool'sgold.

What had I been doing

there? Working. I'd beenbusting my hump like a dogto add a touch of glitter tosomedumbrichnumbnuts tomake them look like realtalent.

Enoughofthat.Iwas in thegame.The

bets couldn't be higher.They'd thrown down thegauntlet and I'd accepted thechallenge.

That was it. I'd said it,

never to repeat it again. Imight not like it but it wastrue: someone somewhereread and analyzed all of myneurograms.

***

The Haash were

patientlywaiting.I studied the

screenshots, planning ourescape. I kept forwarding

some of the pics to Charon,withquestions,

"There's a force fieldhere. How can we get pastit?"

He furrowed hisforehead."Wemustshoot.Atthe emitters. To create anexplosion.Decompression."

"Are there anyemergencybulkheadsthere?"

He nodded, marking itdown on the scheme. We

went on exchanging briefmessages.

Youthinkthebulkheadscouldstopthepursuit?

They would slow itdown. Not for long. We'llhave to run fast. TheDargians will send out thedrones.

The fighter's cockpit,willitholdtwopeople?

You'llhavetostandandhold on tight. I will fly it. It

won'tbelongbutunpleasant.Lots of Gs whenmaneuvering. Not enoughbatterypowerfortheG-forceabsorbers.

I'llsurvive.Hundreds of questions

were crowding my head. Somany things I wanted toknow! Like, who were theFounders? I had to remindmyself to stay focused. Thiswasn'ttherighttime.

"Danny? Have youcheckedthecontroller?"

The darkness stirred.Danezerath stood up,stooping. The low ceilingdidn't allow the Haash tostand up properly. For somereason, he also tried tosqueeze his head through thebars but failed and sniffedangrily,reachingouthislongsinewy arms. I made out hisopenhandandasmalldevice

in it. His long many-phalanxed fingers wereshaking.Whathadmadehimsonervous?Washeafraid?

Then I understood.Charon had mentioneddecompression. I'd neverexperienced it before so Icould only speakacademically. The prisoners,however, must have beenfamiliarwithitalready.

"Howpossibleis it that

thebulkheadswon'twork?"Iasked.

"They're old," Charonansweredcurtly.

Of course. They allwere facing death, followedby respawning and dyingagain.Andnooneknewhowlongitwouldlast.Icouldseefear in the Haash's eyes asthey awaited a chain ofinevitable suffering. Theywould die and resurrect

incessantly in their crumpledcells until the Dargiansrestoredtheatmosphere.

I had the feeling thatthe ugly gnomes weren'tgoingtobeinahurry.

As I pondered over itall,thestoopingfiguresoftheHaash were passing to eachotherboththerepaireddeviceand the helmet that had heldit. Good idea. No point inleaving evidence behind,

givingtheDargiansanexcusefor further repression. Theircover storywould be that I'ddoneeverythingonmyown.IhadforcedCharontojoinmeatgunpointbecause Ineededapilot.

I'dpromisedthemI'dbeback but how sure was I I'dbeabletokeepmyword?

I tried to dismiss thethought. Here, it was everyman for himself. Not that it

helpedmuch.They passed me the

repaired device and thehelmet which I dumped intothe inventory.Then I tried toput the device into a slot inmygear.Itworked.

Theirhandssprangintomotionagain.NowIalsohada handful of micro nuclearbatteries. Seven. Theremaining three Charonwanted to use himself. Not

much,anhourofautonomyatthe most. I clicked two ofthemintothesubmachinegunand another one into thehandgun. I had to give theheavysniper'srifleamissthistime. The remaining fourwere going to power thespacesuit.

Allset.I began removing my

gear.TheHaashwatchedmeinsurprise.

"When do we start?"Charon'svoice tensedup.Hecouldn't understand the pointof my actions — and hadeveryreasontobesuspicious.

"Waitupabit.""Rash is strong. Put

yourgearbackon.""No," Iwalked over to

thebars."Canyoureach?"Charon hunched his

shoulders. He slowly tiltedhismassive head, covered in

rough skin spotted in placeswith rudimentary scales, andopened his large mouth,gaspinghotly,"Why?"

I deactivated his collarand handed him the gun."Nowhitme,"Icommanded."Justmake sure I have abouttwentypercentlifeleft."

"Human, I don'tunderstand..."

"Do it, I tell you! Andyou— all of you— I want

you to yell and stomp yourfeet."

Charon didn't look toosure.

"Trustme!"I could see desperation

in his eyes.No ideawhat hemusthavebeenfeelingatthatmoment.

TheHaashbegantotaptheir feet. A perceptiblevibration rolled across thefloor, filledwith a vague but

passionate rhythm. As if thewave of their pent-up furyhad suddenly burst out,making the bulkheadsshudder.

A second passed, andanother,and...

Charon growled andpunchedme.Hissharpclawsripped the skin onmy chest,spillingblood.

Again...again...again...The vibrating rhythm

quickened.Thedoorclanged.The drones were the first toburst into the room, rotatingin apparent confusion. Theirtarget finders just couldn'tprioritize properly in thechaosthatreignedhere.Thenthey focused on Charonsplattered with my blood,recognizing him as theaggressor.

One of the Haashstepped in, taking on the

drones' paralyzing charges.Two squat figures appearedinthedoorway.

Ifocusedontheirnametags.

"Rash, you scumbag!Come over here!" I couldbarelywheezebuthe'dheardme.Hewasn't afraid, feelinghimself the master of thesituation. He waved thedrones away and headed formycell,enjoyingthesightof

theHaashbeing strangledbytheir collars. Charon playedalong and collapsed,clutchingathisthroat.

The door of my cellscreechedaside.

Rash entered itconfidently, his beady eyesglowingwith blood lust.Mymiserable state only excitedhim.

Hepunchedmesharplyand expertly. My heart

missed a beat, my life barshrinkingtofourpercent.

Berserk!Acrimsonhazeclouded

myeyes.Ilungedforward.Apunch. A bone snappedbroken. Another punch. Thedrones didn't interfere: theyhad been ordered not to.Anger and confusion glowedinRash's stare.He stayedonhistwofeet,hislifeonlyfiftypercent down, but I didn't

stopandkepthittinghim,notlettinghimregaincontrol.

You've received a new

level!The other Dargian

backed off, about to leg it.One of theHaash grabbed athis boot, gasping. It wasDanezerath.Hisneckmusclesbulged and turned crimson.Holdon,Danny!

I kicked the otherslaver, stripping him of halfhis hits. I kept kicking likesomeone possessed, but itdidn't take long: Rash'sassistantwasonlylevel10.

Now I had toconcentrate.Berserkwasstillworking, not allowing me tothink straight, my reflexesimpatienttomakeaquickjobofthedrones.

I reached into my

inventory.Fullgearon.Life support kicked in

immediately. The alarmhadn't been raised: not forsomething as mundane asprisoners yelling andscreamingintheircells.

My life bar grewconsiderably as themurderous frenzy releasedmy brain. Nasty ability, nodoubtaboutthat.

I quickly checked

Rash'spockets.Aha.Anothercollar controller. Shame itwas built into his armor so Icouldn'ttakeitout.Butwherewerethecellkeys?

Only then did it dawnon me that they could beaccessed via the mnemonicinterface. I tore his gear offhim, glimpsing somecomplicated devices in itsslots.I'dhavetosort throughthemlater.

I purposefully didn'ttouch the drones. They musthavebeenfilmingeverything.ThiswaynoonewouldhaveanydoubtsthatIwastheonlyculprit.

Iraisedthesubmachinegun and shot the lock off ofCharon'scell.Now—go!

In two short bursts, Igunned the drones down.They rattled to the floor,sparkingandspewingsmoke.

Charon was alreadystanding next to me, armedand wearing full pressuregear.

"Run!"Dozens of eyes

followed us to the door,glisteningwithhope.Wasthehumangoingtobetraythem?

Howwould you know,poorbastards?

***

The corridor was

empty.Most of theDargianswereawayonaraid.Besides,you couldn't surprise anyonehere with a bit of noise. AsfarasIunderstood,Rashhadmade a habit of torturing theprisoners.Everyonewasusedto his nightly visits to theprisoners' quarters,accompanied by screams andevenshooting.

Weraninsilence.My gear systems had

almost restored my life backto full, but the charge in thebatteries was rapidly goingdown.

Thenextbendrevealedapatroldrone.Ishotitdownbefore it had the chance toalert the rest, but theexplosionechoed through thecorridor.They'dknow!

But now we were

practically there. A smallwalkthrough module held aguards' post. Beyond lay theshaft of the gravity elevatorprotectedbytheforcefield.

Charon and I stormedthe guards' roomsimultaneously. The twoDargians hadn't expected abreakout.And still the alarmmusthavegoneoffasIcouldsee the channels switchingfast on their holographic

monitors. On one of them, acoupleofdozensquatfigurescame running out of theirrooms.

We'd done it nice andneatly.Nowfortheshaft!

Alotinmyescapeplandepended on our luck. Theforce field emitters werelocated on our side, whichwas logical. The Dargiansfeared attack from outside.Butnowtheywouldprobably

learn from their mistake andinstall additional forceemittersontheinside.

The stomping of manyfeet was already echoingthroughthecorridors.

Suddenly Charon tookover fromme. "Holdon!"hestepped forward and raisedhis weapon. Grabbing at therungsoftheserviceladder,hebegan shooting down theshaft.

I dropped to the floor,bracingmylegsagainstsomesort of vertical stand andgrabbing at a thick sturdypipeliningthefloor.

A jet of flame escapedthe shaft and wasimmediately extinguished byaroaringblastofair.

Explosivedecompression is a terriblething,trustme.Theairrushedinto the gap like a tornado. I

glimpsed various objectsrushing past — bodies andpiecesofequipment.

Still, the localizeddisasteronlylastedameretenor fifteen seconds. The roarof the air died away as theatmospherethinnedout.

The light flickered andwent out. The emergencybulkheads hadn't worked,afterall.Whoeverhadn'tbeenwearingspacesuitswasabout

to respawnnow.I justhopedit didn't apply to the drones.Logically, they had to beinanimateobjects.

I held on for dear lifeuntil Charon touched myshoulder."Wecango."

He was full of gloomydetermination.

***

Bothourbrazenescape

and the decompression hadprovedacompletesurprisetothe Dargians. They hadallowed themselves tobecomelax.

We climbed downquickly but cautiously. Theair torrent had ravaged theshaft,pullingoutmanyofthesteps. Soon we noticed awhirling cloud of tiny icecrystals, flakes of oxygen,low-density gas and various

debris.I switched on the

movement coordinator, mygaze choosing a spot furtheron the station's surface.ThenIkickedmyselfoff theloweredgeofthedestroyedelevatorshaft and floated amid thefire-polishedstructures.

My heart froze in mychest.Atanymoment,Icouldcollidewithapieceofdebris(there was plenty of it

around), decompressing mysuit and changing thedirection of awell-calculatedjump.

The Haash's lankyfigure moved parallel tomine. Together we crossedthe murky area affected bythe decompression. The starswerepalebehindthegaseoushaze. We did everything inabsolutesilence.

Somethingblewup.

I pressed both my feethardontothesmoothsurface.One foot slipped and lostgrip. Forcing myself not tothrash around in panic, Imanaged to grab onto anearbyhullstructure.

TheHaashlookedback,anxious. So did I. From thesmallplatformwherewebothstood we could see theelevator's gaping exit,ravaged by the ancient

disaster.Fromhere, it lookedlike the raggedendof apipesurrounded by deformedarmor plates. No idea whathad happened there in thepast.

"Did you seeanything?"Iwhispered.

Silently Charon raisedhishand,pointing.

ToourrightIcouldseeafire-polishedgapinthehullfrom which several drones

appeared — five in total.They must have used somealternateroutesandwerenowscanning the area. I hadstupidly hoped that no onewould notice our escape, toobusy looking into whateverhad caused thedecompression and howbetter to repair itsconsequences.

The drones werefollowed by two Dargians

who scrambled out onto thestation'shull.

My sniper's sightsreacted immediately. Anadditional window opened.The figures came into focus,zooming in. They were cladin low-quality, well-usedspacesuits. Even their visorswere different, allowing meto see the gnomes' angryfaces.

Rash and his assistant.

I'dremovedhisgear,hadn'tI?Heshouldstillbethere,dyingandresurrectinginaseriesofagonizingrespawns.

As if! Either they hadsomehowmanagedtogetoutof the prisonmodule or theyhad their own respawn pointsomewhereinthearea.

Ihadtorememberthat.The worst thing was,

he'd second-guessed ourintentions.

I could see his plan.The drones took up positionamid the mangledtechnogenic ruins. BothDargianswerearmed.CharonandIdidn'tspeak:Iwassurethey monitored ourfrequencies. And mnemonicmessaging took too muchconcentrationtotheexclusionof everything else. At themoment, that was out of thequestion.

Weexchangedgestures,struggling tounderstandeachother. Charonwas anxious. Ientirely shared his concern.The Dargians made noattempt to chase after us.Why?

Rashwasaclever littlebastard. He was armed withsomething rather bulky. Itdidn't resemble a handheldrocket launcher.Unfortunately,I'dhadneither

the time nor opportunity tofind out what kind ofweaponstheyusedhere,butIhad a very bad feeling aboutit. He was aiming his weirdweapon. I followed itsdirection, realizing that boththe Dargians and the dronescontrolled all the accessroutestothelaunchpad.

Did they hope tointercept us? Or were theyprepared to sacrifice the

Haash fighter by shooting itdown?

While we lingeredthere, a new group ofpursuers appeared from theelevator shaft. Our situationwas getting desperate. Weseemed to be cornered frombothsides.Ourhideoutwasn'tsafe enough; besides, it waslocated below the slavedrivers'positions.

We had to act

immediately, but how?Should we open fire? Theywould see us and kill usstraightaway.Shouldwerunfor the ships? They wouldgun us down in their ownsweettime.

I touched Charon'sshoulder, attracting hisattention. I pointed at thestill-swirling cloud ofdecompression blowout thatwas drifting toward the

launchpad.The Haash seemed to

have understood me. Henodded.

"Go!" I gestured,encouraginghimtomovehisbackside.

He didn't lose time.Immediately he began thedangerous descent deep intothe gas cloud, using it as acover to get to the fighter. Ijust couldn't see any other

options.The Dargians hadn't

been idle, either. Ourpursuers (I counted nine ofthem) had broken into twogroups. Four stayed by theelevatorwhiletherestfannedout,moving ingraceful leapstryingtoscanthebiggestareapossible.

Having taken in thesituation, I realized I had todivertthembydrawingfireto

myself.Iclimbedstillhigher.Thelowgravityallowedforarisky maneuver. Using themovement coordinator, Ikicked off and floated alongthe half-molten paneling ofthe hull structure.ImmediatelyIbeganshaking.This was an adrenaline thrillunlike anything I'dexperienced before. Thescene unfolded in completesilence. One wrong

movement,andmysilhouettewould float away from thestation, becoming a perfecttarget,even thoughsomehowIdoubtedtheDargianswouldopen fire. They'd love to seemesuffocate,thenrespawninmycrampedcelloftheprisonmodule.

I had no idea of thepurposeofthetallspireIwasapproaching, but once Ireached its splayed top, I

noticedlargeoblongopeningsinitsuppersection.Igrabbedat the edge of one of them,forcingmybodyinside.

Theyhadn'tseenme!I cast a quick look

around. Nothing special, justa chaotic mess of misshapedequipment amid abundanttraces of high temperaturesanddecompression.

The roomhad a dome-like ceiling, with panoramic

windows lining the wallbelow. I checked thethickness of the armor. Notbad. I had to anchor myselfsomehow without losing theability to move freely. Inoticed a few long severedcables and tried to pull oneout.Itbudgedenough.NowIhad a safety tether of aboutfifteen feet long, suppleenough to tie it around mywasteandattachtheotherend

toaseeminglysturdysparoftheroom'sskeletalframe.

Icautiouslyapproachedone of the oblong openings.Idle thoughts crowded myhead.Wonder if this used tobeacontroltower?

Ilookedout.Now I was the one

controllingthehighground.Icouldobservethegapingholeharboring Rash, his assistantandthefivedrones.Ireached

into my inventory for theheavy sniper's rifle,sacrificing two of thespacesuit's batteries for thepurpose. The life supportsystem indicator immediatelyshrankintotheredzone.Still,Ihadnochoice.Ishovedthesubmachine gun into a quickaccess slot. Charon had myhandgun.

His fate was stillunknown. I couldn't see his

lanky figure anywhere. He'ddisappearedintothedarkness.

Would he shaft me ornot?Weweren't yet clear onthe subject of trust. I knewnegligibly little about thexenomorphs. Their semanticswere a mystery to me. HowwasIsupposedtoknowwhatthey meant by honesty? Iwasn't even sure they had awordforit.

I cast an anxious look

around. Whatever happenedto the pursuit group? Thelighting was poor to say theleast. The system's star wastoo far away: a bright sparkamid billions of smaller coldones littering the void. Thestation reflected the browntwilight shimmer of the gasgiant, casting profound sharpshadowsallaround.Thelightthatreflectedfromtheraggedrelief of the destroyed

equipment made the stationlooklikeagiganticcamonet.Ifanenemywashidingthereinthedark,therewasnowayyoucoulddetecthimwithoutascanner.

Rash had everythingcovered.HadInotknownthelocationofhisgroup,Icouldhave walked right past itwithout even noticing. Samewith our group of pursuers:once they'ddisappearedfrom

sight, you could only guesswhat had happened to them— until the moment theydecided to declarethemselves.

IrealizedfullwellthatIwasn't going to last long.Charonwasmyonlyhope.

The setting was eerilyweird: the chaos of metallicdebris, soundless andtimeless. The subsystemindicators nervously blinked

an occasional red light. Thesoundofmybreathingrippedthrough the silence.Beadsofsweat covered my foreheadunder the helmet but Icouldn'twipethemoff.

Welcome to freakin'space.

I searched the area forRash. He was the dangerousone. The target recognitionsights in my helmet's slotworked like a dream. They

zoomed in on the slowlymoving details of themangled technogenic reliefoutside. Suddenly a Dargiansilhouette pulsated on thescreen as the target findermanaged to localize Rash'sfigure in the surroundingbackground.

Isqueezedthetrigger.Iexpectedthepowerful

surge of a recoil — whichwas why I'd secured myself

with a rope — but theweapon proved to becompensated. The recoilwasnegligible while the hull ofthe stationexploded inaballofflames.WheretheDargianhadstoodonlyamomentago,asmallcloudofplasmahungover a white-hot impactcrater.

Nowtheysawme.Fivedrones opened responsivefire.Indeadsilence,thefloor,

the walls and the domedceiling shuddered from theimpacts. Rays of lightilluminated the room. Thefiring angle didn't allow thecombat machines to hit theirtarget but they were gaininggroundquickly, their chargespassingthroughthewindows,crushing the mauledequipmentinside.

I lay on the floor,protectedbymy thickarmor.

The vacuum around meseemed to be whirling in ablizzard of debris. In theflashing of the incomingrounds, a crimson haze ofincandescent gas rapidlyfilledtheroom.

Islidtheriflebackintothe slot and pulled out thesubmachinegun.I justhopedthat the drones' mode ofthinking was predictableenough. If they couldn't

breach the hull, they had tobreakinside.

The fire died out. Iwatched the crimson hazeseep away, enveloping theancientstructure.Thedrones'cameras couldn't see much.Doubtfulthey'dbeabletotellmyexactlocation.

Iwaited.Icouldn'tstickmyneck

out. This world obeyed thereal-life laws of physics. In

the absence of gravity, youcouldn't run from one hideyhole to the next, shooting atthose"stupidpiecesofjunk".

And they weren't in ahurry to provoke me. Theycircled outside, scanning thearea. I felt as if I'd lose mypatience any moment. I keptseeing spots of reddish lightamid the swirls of gas,reflected from their sphericalbodies. My cheeks were

twitching with the urge toshoot.

Tooearly,Ikepttellingmyself. Let them try to getinsidefirst.

***

Unfortunately, instead

ofthedronesanassaultgroupturnedup.

The robots stayedoutside. Suddenly the oblong

widows were swarming withDargians.

I gunned two of themdown.Alongscreamfrozeinmy earphones as the shotbreached thearmorofoneofmy erstwhile attackers.Mindyou,Icouldn'ttellwhetherhewas screaming with pain orwith fear. The others tookcover.

ThiswaswhenIknew:thiswas it. Thiswas the end

ofme. I stoodwithmy backto a blind wall, corneredbetween some toweringequipment.I'dbeencaughtinmy own trap. All I could donowwasfightbacktothefullextent of my strength, skillandammo.

The whole structurewasvibratingeventhoughnoone was shooting. TheDargians lay low as if theysuddenlyhadmore important

thingstodo.Charon?Therewasanexplosion

outside. Lasers sliced acrossthe gloom. Another flash;then an enormous shadowslidpast,takingtheshapeofafightercraft.

Charonwasonehellofa pilot. His attack on thedrones was swift, gracefuland deadly. You'd think theenormousshipwouldbehard

to maneuver but in fact, itwas remarkably responsive.Before I could come to mysenses,theHaashhadalreadydisposed of his enemies,leveled off his machine,pointed it at the domedstructure and had begunmoving sideways around it,masterfully using the attitudethrusters. The ship's sleekpredatory outline slid fromone window to the next,

illuminated by the shortflashesoflasercharges.

The Dargians lost it.Those who were still alivefled their cover, but I didn'tgive them half a chance andsmokedatleastthreeofthem.Charon did away with therest.

The communicationsystem clicked on. "Jumpinside,quick!"

Theshipturneditsback

to the window, killed itsspeed and stopped its driftdead. A hatch opened,protected by the iridescentglowofaforcefield.

"Wait!" I hurried tocollect the lootwhile rippinggearofftheDargians'bodies,pullingoutwhateverimplantsInoticedindiscriminately.

Soon I was floatingtoward the lock. Had it notbeenforthezeroGs,I'dhave

been deep in overload bynow.

Theinsideofthefighterglowed with the subduedflickering lights of manymachines and holographicscreens.Amassivechairwitha high back towered in themiddleofthecockpit,restingon the foundation of gravityabsorbers and surrounded byclustersofcontrolconsoles.

Charon's lanky hands

clutched the controls: twocomplicateddevices that rosefrom somewhere below,wound with servodrives andequippedwith amultitude offiringbuttons.

The hatch closed shutbehindmyback.

Charoncranedhisneckand twisted his head at animpossible angle to steal aglance at me. "Haaramutaashgort!"

I didn't understand awordbutgraspedat thebackof his seat. The semanticprocessor stalled, trying tointerpret the phraseapparently addressed to me.Smoothly the ship turnedround and began gainingspeed very slowly, headingforthefar-offglimmerofthestation.

Alone:Questfailed!

A Prison Break: Questcompleted!

You've received a newlevel!

***

Weweren'ttalking.Charon was in his

element.Theshipobeyedhimeagerly, filling the manyscreenswithdata.

The most I could

understand peeking over hisshoulderwasthesearchradarscreen. It showed all objectsaround us within a spherewith our ship as its center.Everymarkersportedlinesofsymbols in an unknownlanguage.

Finally the semanticprocessorjumpedbacktolife,unfoldingalongsheetoffineprintbeforemyinnervision.

So this was the

meaning of the two wordshe'd said? Can't be. Thewretched thing mush haveglitched.

Istartedreading.It turned out to be a

modest list of my merits.According to the Haash, Iwasamonsterofvirtue.Itfeltembarrassing and funny andalso a little bit sad. Theyprobablystuck to theage-oldphilosophy that you couldn't

do good without using yourfists — preferably heavyones,too.

Apparently, I hadspilledmybloodfor thesakeofothercreatures.

I had ripped apart twoheavilyarmedenemies—thewordwhich,according to thesemantic processor, played averyspecialroleintheHaashlanguage.Accordingtothem,thereareopponentsandthere

areenemies.Youcouldmakepeacewith the former, livinghappily ever after. But notwiththelatter.

I had broken theshackles.

I had shown them thewaytofreedom.

I had willingly drawnthe enemy's fire to myself,allowingCharontoflee.

And finally, I had(again) killed the Enemy. In

this particular context thecapitalized word wassupposedtosignifyRash.

I had a funny feelingthatmost of the textwas thesemantic processor's veryown conjecture. Had Charonknown that my exploits hadbeen driven exclusively bymydesiretoescapecaptivity,he'dhavebeenquiteupset.

Still, I wasn't going tobetheonetodisappointhim.

Especially because, once I'dfinished reading, anothermessagepoppedup,

You've received a

unique ability: Friend of theHaash.

Bonus: every time youfight alongside the Haash,you will receive +1 to allcharacteristics.

That was great but the

timing couldn't have beenworse. Iwondered if I couldhide this information fromprying eyes. At the moment,we were heading for thestation which wasn't knownfor its inhabitants' friendlyfeelings toward allxenomorphs.

Asitturnedout,Icouldindeedhideit.IonlywishedIcould say the same aboutCharon. Somehow I didn't

thinktheyweregoingtoofferhimawarmwelcome.

Actually, I'd alreadycome up with a solution tothisproblembutIhadnoideahow Charon would react tomysuggestion.Hemightjustchange his rosy opinion ofme.

In the meantime, thestationhadgrown to the sizeofabrightpea.

Ships were swarming

around. I didn't think I couldclassify or even describethem,sovariousweretheyintheir design principles. I hadthe impression that most ofthem had been put togetherby hand using variousstandard modules andsporting a certain degree ofuniquenessandcreativity.

We were given a wideberth, everyone apparentlywaryofaHaashfighter.

Soon the station filledthe entire front of thespherical observation blister.It was a pumpkin-shapedspheroid, its monolith hullbristling with a technoscapeof outer structures—mainlyspace defense systems andvacuumdocks;Ialsosawtwolargeshipsinthehangarsanda cluster of launch pads thatlooked like bits ofhoneycomb.

The center of thestructure bulged with roundopenings at regular intervals.They looked very much liketunnel exits, currently shutwithdiaphragmhatches.

I had to cut myobservations short as thecommunication systemclickedon,

"Attention unidentifiedship.You'reabouttoenterthespace of the Independent

Station Argus. Identifyyourself or change yourcourse. Failing to do so willforceustoopenfire."

Seeing as Charonpreservedagloomysilence,Itook the initiative and tunedinto the channel. "Argus,what is the requiredidentificationprocedure?"

"You must report yourlogin over a protectedchannel."

"Charon? Kill thespeed,willyou?"

Gracefully the shipsloweddown.I'dbelyingifIsaiditfeltgood,butatleastIdidn't have to scrape myselfoffthewall.

I buried myself in thehelppagestryingtoworkouthow to open this protectedchannel of theirs. Finally Iasked Charon to help. For afew seconds he pondered

over it, then nodded andflippedafewswitchesononeoftheconsoles.

Isentthemmylogin.Apparently, that wasn't

all."You'renotonourpilot

list,"thevoicestatedpolitely."Youcan'tflyaship.Doyouhave a pilot? Would you besokindastoidentifyhim?"

Back to thehelppages.JustasIsuspected,therewas

onlyonewayaroundit.I offered the slave

collartoCharon.Hestaredatit with understandabledisgust,thenlookedupatme."Why,Human?"

"I'mafriend.Trustme.It'sonlyforashortwhile."

His eyes filled withfury replaced by agonizingamazement.

"Charon,we can't do itany other way," I tried to

explain the situation to him."I'll set you free at the firstopportunity,Ipromise!"

No idea whether hebelieved me or not. Still, hetook the collar from me andclickeditshutonhimself,hisfingersshaking.

Iswitchedonthecollarcontrollerintherelaxedmodewhich meant that he had tostay within sixty feet fromme.

"This isonlya trick," Itried to impress upon himwhile uploading newinformation through thechannel, The pilot is myproperty. I intend to declarehim as "personalpossessions".

Unexpectedly enough,they green-flagged us. Thereturn message containeddocking pad coordinates anda reminder that I had two

hours to pay for the dockingspace.

***

The ship clanged and

vibrated.Thenthewhiningoftheservomotorswasreplacedbyahissingsoundasthecraftentered the outer dockingpad.Theservicemechanismslatched on to our long-suffering traveler, turning it

around and locking it intoplacewithitssternfacingthestation.

"Won't we burn theouterhullontakeoff?"Itriedtobreaktheawkwardsilence.Charon hunched moodily inhispilot'sseat.

"Nowr," he answeredcurtly in his language,pointing at two symmetricalV-shaped ribbed structures.They must have been the

launching boosters. Therewere lots of things therewhose purpose I could onlyguessat.

Diaphragm hatchesopened in the sides of thedocking pad, revealingbundles of cables and pipesthat reached out to our ship,connecting themselves to theon-boardsystems.Coulditbeapowerfeed?

Charon still hadn't said

aword.AndIwasrestless.Inamoment,theyweregoingtoopen the lock, letting us intoan incredible new world. Aworld of limitlessopportunities. I so wanted tobelieveit.

More system messagesflashed in the foreground ofreality as the station'sinterface desperately tried toconnect to my neuroimplant.Same old story: I needed to

have a mind expanderinstalled.

In the meantime, thesealingprocesswascomplete.Theforcefieldseparatingthedockingpadfromouterspacehad thickened. I watchedthrough the viewing ports ashundreds of jets of murkywhiteliquidsprayedtheship.I could only guess at thepurposeofthis,butchosenottoaskquestions.

"Comeon,then!"Isaid.Slowly Charon

unbuckled and rose. I couldsee he really didn't want toleave the ship. Here he feltrelatively safe, but I justcouldn't afford this scenario.At the moment, he was myproperty, period. My leavingthe ship alone could raisequite a few unpleasantquestions.

The hatch opened,

revealing a sealed sleevebetweenthestation'shullandourship.Havingpassedit,wefound ourselves in a tinychamber where we wereshowered with more of themurky liquid. Was it somekindofdisinfectant?

More clanging andvibrating followed as themassive hatch retractedslowly,thenrose.

I was the first to walk

out. My first impressionswere mixed. I'd imagined anenormous hangar bustlingwith activity. Instead, I waslookingatanemptyA-shapedcorridor, dimly lit and ratherdirty. Reinforcement ribsprotruded at equal intervalsfrom its walls. Darknesslurked in the service nichesbetween them amid bundlesof pipes and cables. Thenichesmust have been cased

inplasticwhichatsomepointhad been ripped off, leavingbarefixturesonthewalls.

As I took in the scene,twoseedytypessteppedfromthe shadows. Both wereburly, dressed in identicaldark-grey uniforms, theirassault vests equipped withvarious-sized pockets stuffedwithtools.

TheMechanics Clan, amessagepoppeduphelpfully.

I must have been thereasontheywerethere.

My gut feeling provedright. The two exudedconfidenceastheysneeredatme.Littlewonder.Bothwerelevel fifty and, judging bytheir behavior, this was theirstompingground.

"Heyyou,shnoob.Howabout you pay for thedocking?"

The word sounded

offensivebutI'dlookintothatlater. Apparently, this wasn'tthefirsttimetheyweredoingit.Therewasnoonearound.Ihadn't noticed anysurveillance cameras ordefense turrets that couldserve as makeshift lawenforcementfacilities.

"I have two hours topay, don't I?" I said firmlyjust to show them I wasfamiliarwiththerules.

"We accept loot," oneof them grinned. "On thespot."

"Thanks," I said asneutrally as I could. "I'll sortitout."

Apunchupwasthelastthing I needed. But I knewthis type. They weren't thekind who would leave youalone.

The other mechanicimmediately moved on to

threats. "And what if Iaccidentally confuse thecables as I service your rustbucket? Imagine how muchyou'll have to pay to get itfixed."

"I didn't order anyservicing."

"It's compulsory," thefirstgoonguffawed.

Reaching for my gunwasn'tworthit.Ineededthemtoattackmefirst.Thatwould

justify my right to protectmyselfinanycourt.

"Youcantry,"Isneeredback which puzzled them alot. "Or you can use yourbrain for a change. HowcouldIcomeacrossthiskindof ship?" I meaningfullyplayedwiththeactivationkeythatCharon had givenme. Itresembled a fancy key ring."Think."

At that moment,

Charon exited the dock. Helooked sad — which to anuninformed onlooker musthaveappearedrageful.Adullgrowl was escaping his half-open sharp-toothed mouth.He stood up, revealing hisslave collar to thedumbfoundedmechanics,andfroze expectantly in a well-practicedhighguard.

Both men backed off.ApparentlyCharonwasn'tthe

firstHaashatthestation.So they got the answer

totheirquestions,afterall.Alevel-five noob who ownedhis own fighter with axenomorph pilot simply hadto be some millionairedaddy's son. They didn'tknowanyotheralternatives.

My first impression ofthe station wasn't rosy. Thetwomechanics seemed to berackingtheirbrainssearching

for a way to fold theirencounter without losingface. I was happy to obligethem.

"Where's the nearestgravityelevator?"

"Depends where youwannago."

"Justwant toget ridofthelootandhaveabitoffun.And buy some implants,maybe, provided they'reauthentic. I don't need no

fakes.""Shaftseven,thenthree

hundred feet down thecorridor."

"Thanks," I calmlyturned my back on themknowing they weren't goingto do anything stupidanymore.Apart fromCharoncovering my back they musthave realized therepercussions of upsettinganyone of my apparent

caliber.Sofar, thisparticularincident was over, but I hadtokeepmyeyespeeled.

Ifthetruthwereknown,I was on my last legs. Andstill I couldn't yet afford totake a break. My initialresolve to slam the Logoutbuttonatthefirstopportunityhad already lost its manicurgency.Ihadtohavealookaround, get rid of the loot,payforthedockingandfinda

place to stay, even if foronenight.Thenwe'dsee.

Thus thinking, Istoppedbytheelevatordoors.

***

Our transfer between

the station levels proved fastand unpleasant. The momentwe stepped into theshimmering energy torrent,its invisible force lifted us

and swirled us away.Personally, I felt like a twigcaught in rapids. I frozeinside as the shaft's wallsturned into stripes of light.Several times the tunnelturned smoothly, changingdirection, before we werefinally nudged out onto asmall platform enclosed by alowrailing.

I barely stood on myfeet. The momentum made

me take a few more stepsuntilIclenchedtherailing.

My vertigo soonsubsided.EverynowandthenI could hear the poppingsound and feel cold air rushover me as new peopleappearedoutofnowhereandheaded toward the widestaircaseleadingdown.

Charon and I steppedaside.

Argus. The Market

Deck, my interface informedme.

Thehallwasenormous.I couldn't even see itsoppositewallslostinafar-offhaze. The round arrivals'platformencircledaclutchoftwenty elevators. Below layan entire city of squat one-story houses, wide streetsdividingthemintoblocks.

I cast a wary glancearound. This wasn't how I'd

imagined a space station'sliving quarters. The openingpanorama was weird to saythe least.My helmet's snipersights system reacted to myconfused state immediately,transforming the nearestbuildingstoshowmehowthecity had been built. Red inktraced the original jaggedremainsofwalls.All that thefirst settlers had seen at thestation was ruins. They had

cleared away the debris andcut away everything theydidn't need, turning thetunnels into streets andbuildingthosesquathousesinplace of the once-destroyedpersonnelmodules.

The place could use abit of light. The enormousvaulted ceiling that hadappeared as a result of anancient technogenic disasterwas lost in a vaporous haze

that formed about sixty feetup, condensing inplaces intoa cloud-like mist. A fewremaining pieces of theframework reached upasymmetrically here andthere.

Everything was new tome, everything piqued mycuriosity. I could see a fewserves as their cyber bodiesscampered across the roofsandshinniedup thecolumns,

servicinglifesupportsystemsand fixing various bits,judging by the far-offflashingofweldingtorches.

The Market Deck waspacked with people. It didn'tlook as if this bustle everstoppedhere.TheHaash andI were attracting quite a fewunkind sideways glances,suspiciousandhostile.

I noticed quite a fewandroids among the crowd.

After having watched themfor a while, I realized thattheyperformedsomekindofpolice function. They werearmed;someofthemguardedshop entrances while otherspatrolledthebusystreets.

While I was thusgawkingaround,dronescamefrom everywhere andsurrounded us, flashingholographic advertisementthat offered all sorts of

services.We'll move your

respawn point to theFounders' Square! Saferesurrection for just 1000credits!

Neurus Corporation:

the best choice in implants!Affordablequality!

Exobiological

symbionts from XenusCorporation will boost yourabilities and contribute someunique skills to your currentconfiguration! All returncustomers get 50% off theirthirdorder.

Pimp your Ship! The

Technologists clan offers acomplete customization ofyour spacecraft with the useof the Founders' original

blueprints. Modern qualitythroughancienttechnologies!

The Pilots clan invites

all ship owners to join theirraids on deserted stations.Excellent loot and thepossibility of fast skillleveling.

Myrus&Myrus will buy

scrap cargonite, quantity noobject.

TheEngineersclanwill

purchase any of theFounders' devices or theiroriginalblueprints.

Go exo! We offer a

wide choice of alienmetabolites!

Normally this kind of

aggressive marketing droveme up the wall. But being

surrounded by it now, aftereverything I'd just gonethrough, felt like a breath offreshair.

I looked up at thedirection signs. FoundersSquare was situated in thevery center of the enormoushall. Still, it had towait.Myfirst port of call was clear: Ihad to find the nearestMyrus&Myrusscrapyard.

And there it was. You

just couldn't miss the largedoubleM.ImotionedCharontofollowme.

We walked down thewide staircase, attractingmore unfriendly attentionfromonlookers.

Apparently, cargonitewas all the rage here. Mostplayers were wearing lightarmor as an alternative toeveryday clothes. The entireMarket Deck looked like an

enormous Eastern-stylebazaar with its multitude ofinteresting offers andpotentialopportunities.Still,Ihadmore important things totakecareoffirst.Ihadtofindmoney to move my respawnpointandpayforthedockingspace.

***

Two androids guarded

the entrance toMyrus&Myrus. They lookedonly marginally humanoid.Their armor plates gleamedpurple, their build a roughsemblance of our own.Theirweapons were integrated.Althoughmymeagerabilitiesdidn'tallowmetoscanthem,I was more than sure theseguys could be quitedangerous in combat. Theandroids stood a head above

thehumanplayers.Theyhadno faces, only tinted frontplates flickeringwithscannerlightsdeepinside.

They paid no attentiontouswhatsoever.

Beforeentering,IaskedCharon, "Do you think youcan extract devices fromDargianarmor?"

"It depends on thetype,"heansweredandfroze,focusing on his inventory

where I'd moved nine of thetrophygearkits.

Soonhehandedmethemodules he'd managed toextract. Five in total. Notmany. Shame but at themoment, I couldn't do muchabout it. Time was workingagainst us. I'd saved Rash'sarmortilllater.Ineededsometimetolookintoitfirst.

Now we had to hurry.Weonlyhadonehour left to

pay for the docking space,and I didn't even know howmuchitwasgoingtocostme.Ihadnoaccesstothestation'snetwork(duetothefactthatIdidn't have their so-calledmind expander installed) andinitsabsence,Istartedtofeela bit uneasy. While notexplicitly aggressive, otherplayers didn't seemparticularly friendly, either.They cast hostile glances at

Charon and curious ones atmyself, their interestimmediately replaced byconfusion.

I could imagine thatrumors of our ship wouldsoonspread.Ididn'tatalllikethe reaction of the twomechanics we'd met by thedocking pad. It was prettyclear that the craft wasexpensive enough. Manywouldwanttolaytheyhands

on it. I would have to eithersell it or stick to my coverstory which would demandsome serious cash injection,primarily to be able to levelmycharupfast.WhichmeantI absolutely had to log outand have a few words withArbido.Wehada few thingstodiscuss.

I walked into theMyrus&Myrus.

The shop's façade was

impressive enough. Theinside though was ratherplain. The place resembled ahangar.Aboutadozendronesfloatedunderthehighceiling.

I headed for a smalloffice counter which lookedlikeachild's toyamidall themountainsofscrapmetal.

A disgusting-lookingdealer stood behind thecurvedcounter.Ihadnoideawheremysubconsciousmind

had borrowed suitable wordsandimagesfrom,butthefirstimpression was depressing. Ihad no doubt that the ownerof this loathsome, bloated,obese avatar had seriousmentalproblems.

Ifocusedonhim.Ingmud. Human. Level

37.Vendor.This was another

specialization typical of anygameworld.Havingsaidthat,normally the role of vendorswas reserved toNPCs.Moreoften thannot theywerealsoquestcharacters,too.

"Excuse me, sir," Ihumbly tried to attract hisattentionwhilethinkingthatIhadn't yet been given thechance to create my ownuniquecharacter.WhatwouldIseeifIlookedinthemirror?

The thought made meuncomfortable. My interfacetabsonly showed a symbolichuman outline.What kind ofappearance had Arbidochosen forme?Ormaybehehadn'tbothereddoingitatallbut had simply clicked therandomizer?

"Well?" the vendorgave me a rather dismissiveglance. "The scale's in thecorner," he mumbled. "Just

dump everything you've gotonit."

I didn't like hissuggestion at all. "You'dbetterhavealookatitfirst,"Isaid, trying to stay calm andpolite.

"What's so specialaboutit?"

"These are integrateddevices,"ItriedtosoundasifIknewtheirpotentialvalue.

"Not interested," the

vendorwavedtheofferaway."We only accept scrapcargonite. You need to seethe Technologists orEngineersaboutanydevices."

"Still, I'd like you tohavealook,"Iinsisted.

"Very well, then," hesighedasifdoingmeafavor.Hiseyesglinted,though.

Withoutsayingaword,I showed him the cargonitearmorkits.

One of his eyebrowsrose. He can't not havenoticed the bullet dents andthe laser scars on the armor."So where did you steal itfrom?" he cast me a scepticglance.

"I won it in honestcombat."

"I'll give you tenpercentoverthescrapprice,"he drilled me with his stare."Ononecondition."

"Whichis?""I'llneedthelogsofthe

fight."Ishookmyhead."Tenpercentoff, then,"

hegavemeanastysmile."Why?""For the riskof trading

instolengoods."Iwas a lousyprofiteer.

Who'd askedme to openmymouth even? I should havegonestraightforthescalesas

he'dtoldme.I did have the logs, of

course. But showing it herewould be a very stupid thingtodo.Atthemoment,Ididn'twant anyone to know aboutmy fight with the slavedrivers. The informationabout their base and the shipthey were restoring couldprove much more valuablethanthecargoniteitself.

"Okay, then," I

motioned Charon to dumpeverything onto the scales. Ihad no time to look foranothervendor.

"Will you sellme yourHaash?" the shop ownersuddenlyaskedme.

"No.""Think again. I'll give

youfiftythousand.""He'snotforsale."Charon had already

loaded all the scrap onto the

platformthatfloatedacoupleof feet above the ground. Itsank slightly. The vendormade some brief mentalcalculations.

"Fivehundredcredits."I sent a mnemonic

message to Charon,Can youreadtheweight?

"Six hundred-" hepaused as if he'd neverencountered the word poundbefore.

Iglancedoverthepricelist exhibited on thetransparent holographicclipboard. Eleven credits apound!

"Charon, pick it all up.We'regoing."

The vendor rose in hischair, "Wait a second, youngman! It's probably the scalesplayingup.Wretchedpieceofjunk!"

Greed glinted in his

eyes. I wouldn't have beensurprisedifintegrateddevicescost ten times the price ofscrapcargonite.Anditwasn'tscrap I was selling him,either."Idon'tthinkso."

Wewalkedoutintothestreet. It felt like a breath offreshairafter theshop'sdarkatmosphere. I took anotherlook around. This time Ididn'trushit.

TheArmory.

Yes. Exactly what weneeded.

We hurried across thestreetandenteredtheshop.

It was small, crammedwith holographic models oftheirwares.Theywerereallyspoiledforchoicehere.

I hadn't noticed thevendor amid all theparaphernaliaofweaponsandarmor. A young fair-hairedmanprofferedmehishand.

"Serge," he said,casting a cautious glance attheHaash.

"Zander," I answeredhis handshake. "Don'tworry.Charon doesn't attackanyone."

"What can I offer you,Zander?Areyouinterestedinweaponsoringear?Wehavedirect contacts with theTechnologists. Some of theitemsaremind-blowing."

"I'll keep that in mindwhen I need to buysomething. Now I just wanttoofferyousomeofmyloot.Some gear kits and pulseguns. I can't extract thedevices though.Haven't beeninthegamelongenough."

"Where did you get itfrom?"

These questions beganto annoy me. Normally,vendors don't give a shit

whereyougotyourlootfrom.Then again, I knew nothingabout the local customs yet,so I decided to stick to mystory.

"Thing is, Ibought thisaccount from someone," Isaid nonchalantly. "I arrivedat the station in my ship anhour ago. And all the gearwasalreadyintheinventory."

Serge wasn't as stuckup his own backside as the

last vendor. At least heseemed to accept my fakeconfession. "So how about Ihave a look at it?" hechuckled.

I motioned Charon tounload the gear onto thecounter.

Serge scanned itmeticulously. Then he madesome mental calculations."How about three grand intotal?"

"Cash."He shook his head. "I

don't work with cash. Toomuchhassle."

"I don't have access tothe station's network yet. Ididn'tgetachancetogetanyimplants."

"Not a problem," hepointed at a paymentterminal."Just logintoitandI'lltransferyouthemoney."

"What kind of cash do

youusehere, then?" I asked,curious.

"Microchips," heansweredwillingly.

"What's so valuableaboutthem?"

"You don't mean youhaven'tevenreadtheFAQ?"

"Nope.""Microchips are

everywhere. They make thebase of any cyber system.There are some fakes around

but there're not difficult totell,allyouneedtodoistesttheminadedicatedslot."

"And what if someonepays me, say, a thousand ofthem?Howmuchtimewillittaketotestthemall?"

He chuckled at mynaïve question. "A thousandchips is a lot. I don't thinkyou'll come across anythinglike that in the foreseeablefuture. The maximum an

experienced leveled-up pilotcan expect is ten to fifteenchips for a really riskymission. Normally it's aboutenoughtoupgradeoneoftheship'ssystems.Therearealsoneurochipsbutthey'resoldatthe rate of one to a hundred.There it gets more difficult.You absolutely have to testthem but you'll need specialequipmenttodoso."

"How much does a

neurochipcost,then?""A blank one is five

hundred credits. A pre-recorded one, depends. Andthose with the Founders'software may go for tens ofthousands."

"I see. Listen, I stillneed to pay for the dockingspace.CanIdoitfromhere?"

He nodded. "I shouldinstall some implants prettyquick if I were you," he

added. "You can't reallyfunction without them. Eventhe most basic ones. Or youriskbeingforeverstuckattheshnoob stage. No one willwanttodealwithyou.They'llcharge you more for thedocking and offer less foryour loot.You reallyhave tolook sharp here," he openedsomekindof list. "Was it aninnerorouterdockingpad?"

"What's the

difference?" I didn't evenneed to pretend, I honestlydidn'tknow.

"The outer dockingpads are the cheapest," heseemedeagertoteachmetheropes. "Think for yourself:about a third of all defensesystems still aren'tfunctioning. So who's gonnameet the intruder in case ofan attack? Evidently it's thepilots docked on the outside.

They'rethefirsttoreachtheirships and go into combat.They have no choice. But ifyou're safely docked inside,that's a totally different ballgame. Then it's up to youwhether you join in or not.Most likely, they'll offer youa one-off station defensecontract."

"I see. No, I'm dockedoutside," I sighed. "Howmuch do they charge per

twenty-fourhours?""Ahundredcredits.For

free, basically. I'm going topayitfromyouraccountinamoment. How much do youplantoafford?"

"Three days, maybe?Thenwe'llsee."

"Make it a week. Firstbecause there's a discount.Second, because if you doinstall some implants, youmightlandinaclinicforfive

daysatleast.""Agreed. Is the station

attackedoften,then?"He shrugged at the

question. "Virtually everyday. Nothing serious, really.Between all those Dargians,Wearongs, Kamresh and theOutlaws, there are plenty oftakers. Normally, the Pilotsclan handles them noproblem.But ifyourdockingpadhappenswithintheattack

cone,anythingcanhappen.Ifyou don't make it there intime or you don't launch oryou fail to engage, they caneasily seize your ship.Especially theOutlaws.Theyhave some tophackers there.They'll take your ship andyouwon'tevennotice."

This didn't sound toooptimistic."Isee.Howmuchdoes an inner docking spacecost?"

"Fivehundredcredits.""Abitpricey.""Butsafe.""Who are the Outlaws,

then?"He cringed. "Humans.

A bunch of scumbags. Somehave problems with the law.Others have dodgy implants.Alotaresaidtobeonexo,"Isensedabadlyconcealedfearinhisvoice."Theyhavetheirownbaseswithintheasteroid

belt.""Are theremanymajor

attacks?" I tried to milk himfor asmuch information as Icould.

"Depends. Last weekthe crafters got it pretty bad.Amonth ago someDargiansand Wearongs landed in thedeserted sectors trying to getto the oil. And," he loweredhis voice, "they say there'sbeenafewrecentsightingsof

PhantomRaiders.""Who the hell are

they?""Phantoms," Serge

answeredmeaningfully. "Thewordsays it all.Theyappearout of nowhere. Some saythey arrive from another starsystem. Even though theTechnologists and theEngineers swear that a warpdrivejustcan'tbebuilt."

"Where do they come

from,then?"He shrugged. "No one

knows.We'venevermanagedto get hold of any. Whencritted, their ships eitherdisappear or they self-destruct. Depends on yourluck."

"What's thedifference?"

"You'll know it whenyou see it. If a Raiderdisappears, that's one thing.

You're scored a win andsubsequently get paid.Because the logs are stillthere, you see. But if theyself-destruct, that's a totallydifferent story. That'sannihilation. If you happenanywherenearit,justpraytothe Founders that your forceshields hold. The clans willpayanymoneyforafragmentof the Phantom Raiders'ships."

"How much will theypayforawholeone?"

Again he gave me thispatronizing, unsettled smile."That's science fiction," hescoopedupmyDargiangear."No one has ever seized aPhantom.Onethingyouneedto remember: if a generalalert is sounded, get up andrun for your ship. If a pilotfails to show up, they willconfiscatetheshipandthrow

the pilot out of the station.Throughtheairlockwithoutaspacesuit. To a respawnpurgatoryinavacuum."

"Isitsobad?""Where the Phantoms

are concerned, yes.We can'tsurvive otherwise," hepressed a few buttons. "Alldone. The docking space ispaid for a week, you've gottwenty-threehundredonyouraccount. Come back when

youwantagearchange.""Iwill."

***Charon and I walked

outoftheshop.My next port of call:

having my respawn pointmoved.

I kept meeting hostilestares. I hadn't yet met asingle xenomorph which I

found quite worrying. Thepassersby glared at Charonwith undisguised hatred,followed by looks ofsurprised disdain directed atme. I hadn't yet worked outthe reasons for suchanimosity but it wouldprobably be better for us tofinish whatever else we hadtodoquicklyandfindaplacetostay. Ineeded to look intoWiki — the dated word I

used out of habit whenreferring to gamingencyclopedias.

Founders Square didn'timpressmemuch.Itwasvastand empty. We paused nextto it, noticing a cordon ofandroids.Theimpassivesteelrobots stood watch over therespawning process. Fromtime to time, the squareechoedwithapoppingsoundas a flash of green light

released a newly respawnedplayer.Generally,allofthemlooked pissed and confused,having just suffered a virtualdeath.

Icouldtellbytheirgearthat most of the survivorswere pilots. We lingeredbehind the cordon,watching.I noticed a few mechanicsappear amid the incessantflashes of green. Judging bythe few brief phrases they

exchanged, it had been somesort of repair gone awry. Afew shady individuals musthavebeenthevictimofsomegang war or other. Then thesquare flooded with armedpeople in full armored suits— I could hear snippets oftheir conversation aboutmopping up the station'sdeserted levels and "thoseraid-wipingidiots".

Aha.Theyhadcounted

on abundant loot but got akick in the balls instead.Happens to the best of us.Still, as I studied theirweapons and gear, I couldn'thelpaskingmyselfwhatkindofmobshad to be lurking inthestation'sdesertedbowels.

Allofthatwasquiteaneye-opener, but it was timefor us to leave. Personally, Icould barely stand straightfromexhaustion.

I cast a look around,searching for the offer weneeded. I didn't have to looklong. At the entrance to thenearest shop, more dronesglowed with their aggressiveadvertisement, pestering thepassersby.

I was wary of morequestions and technicalproblems,buttheshopowner—definitely anNPC— justkept nodding with a happy

smile. No, he didn't need toknowwheremy old respawnpoint was. He could transferit to Founders Square for athousandcreditsregardlessofits current location. TheHaash wasn't a problem,either. He was a player likeall of us so technically, hewasentitledtoone,too.

Ishelledouttwogrand.Despite having made a bighole in my budget, it was

definitelyworthit.I asked the vendor

about any potential places tostay and received some verydetailed directions.Apparently, the entireperimeteroftheMarketDeckwas lined with livingmodules. In whicheverdirection we went, we couldstillgetthere.

The whole respawnpoint transfer procedure

seemed a bit iffy tome. Thevendor rubbed some silverygoo into Charon's and myforearms and reportedhappily,"Alldone!"

"What's this, then?" Istudied an oblong silver spotjustabovemywrist.

"That's a marker," thevendor informed me."Effectivewithinrangeofupto ten light seconds from thestation.Anythingfurtherthan

thatisyourresponsibility."Iimaginedthescenario:

me andmy ship, millions ofmiles away from my newrespawn point. In case oftrouble, I'd find myself backhere at Founders Square, butwhatwasgoingtobecomeoftheship?

I asked the vendorabout it. He shrugged."Normally,pilotsflyeitheringroupsoratleastintwos.So

there's always somebody totow your ship back to thestation or at least to keep aneyeonit."

"And if that's not thecase?"

"We don't coverspacecraft.Youmightneedtotalk to some of thetechnologistsaboutthat.Theymight know of a solution.Or,"heloweredhisvoiceandleaned across the counter

towardme, "tryand findoneof the Outlaws' bases in theasteroidbelt.There're rumorsthey've cracked the PhantomRaiders'mystery.Becausewedon't get very many of theOutlaws'downedships."

"Ohreally?""Oh really what?" he

said nonchalantly. "Have Ijust toldyousomething?"thevendor gave me a barelynoticeablewink."Inanycase,

Sir, I would be quiteinterested in buying somerareequipment.Soifyoufindanything,I'llbeveryhappytoconsider it. Trust me youwon'tregretit."

New quest alert!

ImmortalHardware!Find any of the

Outlaws'basesandtrytofindout more about the ancienttechnology they recently

discovered.

***"Come on, Charon.

Timetogo."Enough for one day. I

was already fed up withtoday's dose of adventure. Icould barely stand on myfeet. I still wasn't hungry orthirsty, but Charon wasalready ogling a vending

machine offering food tubes.To me, they looked utterlygrossbutIwassurprisedthathecouldbehungryatall.

"Fancysome?"He nodded

energetically, his eyesglowingwithexcitement.

He was a mystery tome. I walked over to themachine and bought a fewtubesofmychoiceforhim.

He swallowed them

whole right there, wrappersand all. The nearest androidsswung round to the distinctchattering soundof his teeth,but immediately lost interest,noticinghisslavecollar.

It was better he didn'tremoveitatall.WhichmadethefreedomI'dpromisedhimrather questionable. Charondidn't protest, though. Hefollowed me meekly andobediently,showingnoreturn

aggressiontoanyonearound.I immediately thought

about the earlier dockingincident with the twomechanics. He'd behavedtotallydifferentthen.

I remembered seeinghim in the ship's cockpit: afree pilot, proud andconfident. Apparently, theHaash possessed someenviableactingskills.

Thenagain,maybehe'd

taken my clever little ployseriously.Ifso,he'dprobablyacceptedhisfatethinkingthatI'dsimplybetrayedhim.

Never mind. We'd talkitalloveroncewegot to thehotel.

"Come on now," Ipulled his hand, motioninghim to follow me into thenearest street. It led from thecentral square away to theenormoushall'sperimeter.

There we discoveredlots of oblong hatches thatlined the hall's walls, with aholographicsignnexttoeach.Icheckedthemandshookmyhead. Capsule hotels weren'tforthelikesofus.

We spent some timelookingforsuitable lodgings.Finally, we'd chosenGardean's Living Blocks —or so the etherealadvertisementclaimed.

The hatch creakedslightlyasIopenedit.Charonhad to stoop as he entered,otherwise his head wouldhavehitthedoorway.

Another long corridorlined with identical oblongdoors. A lamp cast a cozylightfromthereceptionatthefar end of the passage.Noticing the Haash, theowner rose, reaching for hisweapon.

I sensed Charon's hotbreath on the crown of myhead. "Keep out of it," Iwarnedhimjustincase.

Then I walkedconfidentlyuptothecounter.Charon breathed in fitsbehind me, sensing a threatandreadytocharge.

I warned him onceagain, then smiled to theowner. "How much do youchargeanight,Sir?"

"Twentycredits.""Ithoughtitsaidtenby

theentrance?""You can be thankful

I'm letting you in at all," hischeek twitched. He eyed theHaash."Doingyourbitofexoharvesting?"

I shrugged, making itclear it was none of hisbusiness. "Agreed. Here's ahundred,"Inoticedapaymentterminal and hurried to

transfer themoney. In returnheofferedmeasmirkandanelectronickey.

The living block waswarm and clean. A softporous carpeting covered thefloor. The five-sided roomwas small, a bit like ahoneycomb: a basic hygieneunitinacornerandafoldingbed along the wall oppositethestationnetworkterminal.

The massive hatch

shuddered shut. Two newicons appeared before mymental eye:Open and Blockfrominside.

Naturally, I chose thelatter.

It took me a fewmoments to work out thecollar controller. Then Iremoved the deactivatedcollar from Charon's neck.Finally!

He cricked his neck,

mistrustful."Didn'tItellyouitwas

onlyatrick?"He stared intomyeyes

long and hard. Gradually hisgaze softened asunderstandinggrewwithin.

"I know it can't havebeen easy for you. I'm afraidyou'llhavetogrinandbearitforatinybitlongeruntilIcanthinkofawaytolegalizeyouhereatthestation.Butnowat

leastyoucanlogout.Doyouunderstand? You do havesomewhere to go back to,don'tyou?"

Hedidn'tanswer.Very well. I was more

than sure he knew what Imeant.Thenitwasuptohim.Personally,Iwasloggingout.Ineededsomequalitysleep,amealandashower.Followedby the next point on myagenda: having a heart-to-

heartwithArbido."That's it," I pulled the

beddown,layontopofitandclosed my eyes. "Butwhateverhappens,Charon—promise me not to leave theroom!"

The logout buttonglowed green, calling myname.

Ipressedit.

ChapterThree

LogoutIwasback!Gradually my eyesight

begantofocus.Mybodywasnumb. I could make out aconvex translucent surface infront of my face and theblurred outline of my roombehindit.

Backtoreality.OnlynowcouldIpluck

up enough courage to admit:I'dbeensoscaredtolosethisthin bond between thephysical andmade-upworldswhich I'd been so eager to

break beforemy introductiontoPhantomServer.

The grass is alwaysgreener¸astheysay.

My muscles felt quitefit.Iwouldn'tsayIwaswideawake and bursting withenergy — my eyes felt dryand tired — but even thisinitialawakeningsurprisinglyfeltlikegoodnews.

The fact is, it'snot reallife itself that matters. It's

knowing that you can comebackatanytime—thesheerfreedom of choice.Apparently, once you arestrippedofthatchoice,thingsaren't so funny anymore.Especially when you arestuck in a totally unknownworld.

I had lots of things todo.Notimetogotobedyet.Itouched the glowing rune ofan icon. Air hissed. The

translucentlidbegantorise.My implant reacted

predictably. The in-mode isoff.

Igraspedatthesidesofthe capsule and sat up, thenscrambledoutandheadedforthe shower. I needed tofreshenmyselfup.

My head was goinground a bit but I knew itwould soon pass. Standingunder the hot jets, I tried to

depressurize. The PhantomServer had left a lastingimprintonmymind.Istudiedmy forearm — no sight ofany implants. Iwipedmyselfdry and put some cleanclothes on, thenwalked overtothefrontdoor.Nosignofabreak-in. The in-modetechnicians were no dodgycustomers. They'd got aproper entry clearance. I hadthislockwithspecialtracking

software: it didn't prevent abreak-in but it did signal anintrusion. This time there'dbeen none: their so-called"technical support team" hadused a copy of my ownelectronic key complete withmybiometricdata.Justlikeamedicalresponseteam!

Now I had threepotentialcoursesofaction.

1. I could cancel thecontract and send the

neuroimplant back to thedevelopers.

2. I could keep theimplantbutnevergoback tocontinue the alpha testing ofthePhantomServer.

3.Alternatively,Icouldstayinthegame.

I sat at the table,orderedabreakfastandbeganthinking. I wasn't sure aboutthe right choice yet. Each ofthethreehaditsownprosand

cons, but do you knowwhatactuallyworriedme?

You will never believeit.TheHaashprisoners'fate.

Was I finally losing it?Ingameasinreallife,itwaseverymanforhimself,wasn'tit? No one had overrun thissimpleruleyet.It'struethatIhadalwaystendedtojointheforces of Light whenever Iplayed a game. Then again,this Light also came with

certainstringsattached.Mostlikely — if I had to bebrutally honest with myself— I was simply attracted bytheir design and all thepotential abilities. But I'dnever been a clan player.Sometimes, yes, dependingonaparticularassignmentorout of dire necessity: then Icould indeedwork as part ofa team but it never attractedme as such. It was a choice

that must have initially beenformed by the nature of mywork for Arbido. Then I'dsimply got used to it. Imusthave realized that anyvoluntary responsibility forother people's lives was amoral burden I could livewithout. Also, I hatedobeying various statuses andcharts. Freedom andadventure were my religion,unconcerned and

commitment-free.The thought of Arbido

gratedonmynerves.Firstthingwehadtodo

was to talk. I needed mymoney back aswell as someinformation. Then I'd decidewhattodonext.

***

I never found Arbido.

But I didn't push too hard,

either. I created a newaccountintheCrystalSphereforabitofnostalgicleveling.Imadelevel5andsoldsomepennyloot.Thegame'sratherboring opening offered aplayerplentyofmotivationtoseek any easy side routes—butnosuchluck.

Nooneofferedmeanyshadyservices.

Very well. I did thesame in another game world

where I knew Arbido had alongandestablishedhistory.

Not an online managerin sight. Not one of his oldcontactsstillaround.

Iwentasfarastobuyanew microchip and changemynanocomp'sIPaddress.Iknew from experience thatany potential client alwaysleft in hiswakewhat I'd callthe "matching customer toproduct" trail. All of their

online searches and theirentire browsing history weremeticulously recorded andanalyzed in order to ensurethat everyone could findexactlywhathewanted.

Now this worried mequiteabit.Arbidoseemedtohave disappeared off myradars — and so had mymoney.

Iwasn't inthebrightestof moods when I finally

logged out. Only when Iglanced at the clock did Irealize I'd been deprived ofsleep for over twenty-fourhours.

Our — my andCharon's — escape fromslavery followed by our tripto the station and everythingit implied had taken almostten hours in actual time. Intotal, I'd spent a whoppingtwo days in the Phantom

Server.TimetocatchafewZs.

It never pays to takeimportant decisions whileunable to think straight. Iswitched on each and everysecuritydevice,climbedbackintothecapsule,sealeditandactivatedthein-mode.

***

The following day

brought no relief. Arbidoseemedtohavevanishedintothin air. I spent a couple ofhours in the Crystal Spherejust watching other playersandfollowingthenewsfeed.

Nothingnewthere.NotoneoftheartifactsI'dhandedovertohimhadresurfacedinthe local network. All theother agents known to mewereoffline.

I was bored out of my

mind. The neuroimplant wasworkingatmaybetenpercentof its true capacity. Now Iknew exactly how it couldmakemefeel.

I wondered aboutCharon. What would he bedoingnow?

I walked over to thewindow and stood therestaring at the city envelopedinindustrialhaze.

Arbido could wait, my

gut feeling toldme.Hemustsimply be lying low. It hadhappenedbeforeduringsomemajorNetpoliceraids.

So what was I waitingfor, then? My PhantomServeraccounthadbeenpaidfor.Ihadlotsof things todothere.

A thin voice of reasontried to talk me out of it,reminding me of all thedangers these new neuronet

technologies could harbor.But the thought had onlychallenged me. I was nowitchingtogoback.

Surely I'd be able toraise some money to havethose implants installed.AndI wasn't going to let themcatchmesostupidlythenexttime. I was desperate to getback now. The miserablecityscape behindmywindowannoyed and frustratedme. I

knew myself well enough. Iwouldn’t be able to wait formuchlonger.

I turned round andlookedattheopencapsule.

Yes.Thatwas it. Iwasgoingback.

The thought aloneallowedmetobreatheeasier.

***

LoginIopenedmyeyes.Iwas

lying on a narrow foldingbed.

A strange spicy smellhovered in the air. Notunpleasant — just alien.Wary. I sat up and lookedaroundme.

Charon lay sprawledout by the door. He didn'tmove.

I stood up and tried toshakehimawake.Pointless.Ilistened to his breathing: itwaslevel.Washeasleep?Orhadheloggedouttoo?

I'd no idea whathappened to a logged-outplayer's avatar in thisparticularworld.Normally, itshouldjustdisappear.ButthePhantomServerseemedtobeliving by its own rules.Nothingwouldsurpriseme.

Charon'sfacewascalmand peaceful. His skin,however, was covered withdroplets of some substancewhichproducedthesmellthathadalarmedmeearlier.

I tried to shake himawakeagain—tonoavail. Istruggled to drag his limpbody into a far corner andconcentrated.

WhatwasIsupposedtodowith him now? IfCharon

hadloggedout,thenwhywashisavatar'sheartstillbeating?Whywashisskinwarm,whywashebreathing?Thatwasn'tright.

I had no one to turn toforadvice.AllIcoulddowassit there and wait until hecameround.

I left the Haash aloneand slumped into a chairopposite the networkterminal. I wanted to look

intothelocalmarket.First things first. I had

toresearch this implant thingand, more importantly, findsomemoneyforthesurgery.

The station networkwas crammed full of offersbut admittedly dodgy ones. Ididn't need a cottage job,that'sforsure.Notoneofthetempting affordable offerscontained any clear-cutexplanations. Iopenedoneat

random.I'll installabasicmind

expanderforaslittleas1000credits. Ask for Claus themnemotechat the7thmarketblock.

Howcoolwas that?As

if I'd allow some cowboybrain surgeon to mess withmy head! What kind ofexpanders were they?Where

had he gotten them from?Had he looted them offsomethingorsomeoneorjustboughtasecond-handone?

No, thanks. Anythingbutthat.

It's not that I was toochoosy — just wary of anypotential problems. Suchcyborgization of an avatarwas going to seriously affectthe character itself. Thiswasn'tamediocreswordora

suitofarmorwhichyoucouldkeep for awhile, hoping oneday to swap it for somethingreallygood.

So I kept looking intoit,searchingforanycriteria.

A mind expander is a

neuronet module responsiblefor the reception andprocessing of incoming datafrom any implants or gearsensors. It exists in three

basicmodels:SynapsX.Receivesdata

from gear sensors only. Itsadvantages: low cerebraloverloadparameters(needs4pt. Intellect, 4 pt.Willpower,3pt.LearningSkills)andlowprice. Downsides: yourperception rangewill dependon the gear you wear. Anygear sensor damage willrender the implant useless.

Recommended formercenaries, low-rankmechanics, small-craft pilots,craftersandartifacthunters.

Not forme,probably. I

shifted in the hard chair,trying to get comfortable.What'sthepointinwearingamind-expanding implantwhich demands the donningofexpensivegimmick-packedgear?

SoIwentonreading,Synaps2. Works

exclusively with implants. Itsadvantages:averagecerebraloverloadparameters(needs5pt. Intellect, 5 pt.Willpower,5pt.LearningSkills)andthepossibility of linking it upwithaone-offchoiceofthreesealed cyber modules (whichare implanted simultaneouslywith the mind expander).

Downsides:oncechosen,thisconfiguration cannot bealtered or upgraded.Recommended for all-roundpilots, owners of cargo craftandmid-rankmechanics.

This looked interesting.

Having said that, I hadn'tdecided onmy specializationyet. I didn't want to riskchoosing the wrong cybermodules.

Well, what did theyhavenext?

SynapsZ Universal.

Five slots are implanted intoyourskull,capableofhousingmulti-task cyber modules. Itsdownsides: high cerebraloverloadparameters(needs7pt. Intellect, 7 pt. Willpowerand7pt.LearningSkills)andhigh price. Its advantages:the possibility of flexible

module configurationdependingonthetaskathandand the ability to manuallyreplace modules in slots.Recommended for scientists,technologists, mnemotechs,exobiologists and raidleaders as well as largespacecraft and squadroncommanders.

Themindboggles.That

wasit,yes.Butthepricewas

goingthroughtheroof.Never mind. One day

we'd make it. The first fewsteps are never easy. Onething was for sure: I shouldtake my time choosing theright implants. In themeantime, I could do verywellonperipherals.

A sharp screechingnoiseattractedmyattention.

I turned round, staringatCharon.Hestill layonthe

floorwithhiseyesclosed,buthis right arm twitched,convulsing, clawing thebulkhead.

Whatever washappeningtohim?Istoodupand warily approached him.Was it some involuntaryreflex? If he'd indeed loggedout, his avatar couldn'tpossiblyhaveany!

Charon's hand twitchedandclenchedintoafist.Once

again I tried to shake himawake.Hedidn'trespond.

***

I returned to the

terminal and continuedstudyingthenetwork.

Themetaboliccorrectorand reflex enhancer weremore or less clear. Theformer was basically amicroscopic biochemical

factory.Itpumpedyourbloodthrough, cleansing it fromanything toxic and enrichingit with various beneficial (orso they thought) substancesand formulas. The implantdrew heavily on your bodyresources but it also camewith its own supply ofmetabolite cartridges. Inorder to refill them, specialsocketswereimplantedunderyour skin; the formulas

themselves were producedlocallyavailableindisposabletubesyringes.

This was gettinginteresting.

The reflex enhancerconsisted of nanites capableof forming artificial neuraltissue inside thebody. Itwasimplantedbyinjectingspecialnanomachine colonies whichthen developed into asupplementaryneuralimpulse

transmission system.Working together with themind expander, the nanitesensured knee-jerk reactionsespeciallyvitalforpilotswhohad to implement theircombat decisions swiftly andefficiently.

Ohwell.Theeasywaywasn'tan

option. A hasty and cheapdecisioncouldbecomeadeadend. It was pretty obvious I

had to opt for the best. Still,the best prices flickered anexorbitantamountofzeros.

What if Iwas trying toovercomplicateit?

I checked theinformation once again, thenasked myself the question:wherehadtheycomefromtobegin with, these implants?And why did xenomorphsalsoseemtohavethem?

Theanswerwasn'thard

tofind.Apparently, all the

current technologies werebased on the discoveries ofthe so-called Founders. Thiswas the name given to themysterious civilization thathad built both these stationsand the enormous spaceshipsI'd glimpsed drifting throughspace.

I stopped reading andcastaglanceoveratCharon.

Stillunconscious.I thentriedto ponder over what I'd justlearned.

Normally I never triedtopurposefully look intoanybackstory of game worlds. Iknew only too well that allthe informationIwouldneedwould be offered to a playerat the right moment in thegame in an impressive andwell-measured manner. ThePhantom Server didn't seem

tobesosimple.Thememoryofmy alternative start was aprimeexampleofthemessI'dfound myself in instead of acolorful full-dimensionalintroductiondemo.

I stood up and pacedtheroom,thentookaswigofwater and went back to theterminal.

Iwas buzzingwith toomany questions. I knewinstinctively thatmy survival

depended on my finding allthe answers. Here, no onewas going to offer me ahelpful prompt when thegoinggotcritical.

***

I spent the next few

hours studying the PhantomServerworld.

I had pieced togethersome shreds of unrelated

information about theFounders, their history andtechnology, that I'd amassedfrom various sources. Thiswas the impression I finallygot:

The only thing knownforsurewasthattheFoundersweren't humanoid.We couldonly speculate about thelocation of their home starsystem.Withouta shadowofa doubt, the creatures had

attained some incredibledevelopment before they hadbeen finally confronted withwhatmusthaveseem likeanunsurmountable problem: thelightbarrier.

This had been quite aninteresting plot twist on thepart of the scriptwriters.Normally, all game worldssolved this problem simplyby introducing the idea ofhyperspace and the so-called

warp drives. So easy— andso utterly unscientific. Thisway you simply jumped towhatever star system youfancied, be it hundreds oflightyearsaway.

Ikeptreading.The Founders had

apparently discoveredhyperspace too. Afterstudying it, they'd arrived attheconclusionthatitallowedyoutotransmitanystructured

signal, complexity no object—butnotamaterialbody.

It's well known that acivilization locked within itsown solar system is doomed.The Founders must haverealized this too — whichwaswhythey'dcomeupwitharatheruniquesolutiontotheproblem. They had builtautomated interstellar shipsandsentthemontheirnever-ending subluminal journey.

Traveling from one starsystem to the next, theserobotic explorers studiedplanets looking for availableresources, then used them tobuild automated stationsequipped with specialbiological reconstructionchambers and instantinterstellar communicationsystems.

So gradually they'ddeveloped their own

intergalactic network. TheFounders had forbidden theirrobotized ships to mine forresources on already-inhabited planets, leavingthemtoexploreasteroidbeltsandbarrenworldsinorder tobuild more automated shipsequipped with biologicalreconstruction chambers. Itenabled the Founders totraveltostarsbytransmittingthe neural matrices of their

identities to any station oftheir choice. And once theylost interest in any particularstar system, they simplytraveledon.

All this had happenedmillions of years ago. TheFounders' expansion had leftcountless artifacts behind —all the abandoned stations,planet and asteroid bases,mines and shipyards — andtheir broken interstellar

network. Whatever hadhappened to its creators,whatever had caused thedestruction of most of theirtechnogenic facilities,remainedamystery.

Whew.It had taken me quite

some time to puzzle thispicture together out ofvarious bits of fragmentaryevidence.

Phantom Server: questcompleted!

A new global plotactivated!

You've received a newlevel!

You've received a newlevel!

New quest available:Phantom Server 1. TheMysteryofHyperspace.

Find one of the

interstellar networkinstallations and try to workout whether it's stillfunctional. Does thenetwork's central server,known as Phantom Server,still exist? Is it true that itused to control andcoordinate all of theFounders' AI ships andstations?

Two new levels! This

wasn't bad at all. I'd had noidea that my humble attemptat research would berewardedsogenerously.

The plot definitelythickened.

***

While I was at it, I

decided to spend a bit moretime looking into the currentstateofaffairs.

ThistimeIhadtosievethrough tons of informationtrying to separate grains oftruthfromallsortsofrumorsandfiction.

So. This star systemonlyconsistedoftwoplanets.

The planet Darg wassimilar to Earth in manyrespects.I'dalreadymetsomeof its inhabitants so I'm notgoing to dwell on them forthetimebeing.

The planet Wearongwas a brown gas giantinhabited by creatures whichwere probably best describedas some sort of squid. Istudied pictures of them,curious. They looked fragilebut were in fact highlydangerous,havingevolved ina high-pressure, low-temperature environmentamid fierce air currents andtoxicmethane clouds.Which

was whyMother Nature hadequipped the Wearongs witha sealed shell capable ofwithstandingabroadrangeofextreme elements, includingvacuum.

TheWearongs lived inthe upper atmosphere levelsand used organic jetpropulsion to move around.Their bodies producedelectricity which they usedfor both attack and defense.

The screenshots availablewith articles showedenormous almost lightning-like discharges that theWearongsusedtoshootdownDargianspaceships.

Thethirdcivilization—the Kamresh — hadoriginatedandevolvedonthegas giant's satellite. Judgingby the images, the Kamreshpossessed an exoskeletonwhich made them extremely

resistant. They looked verymuch like our mole cricketsand lived deep inside rocklabyrinths that riddled theirlittleplanetoid.

NowitwastimetoturntotheDargians.

They were the mainlocalopposingforce.

Their developmentwasquite interesting. Idownloadedoneofthevideostaken from Darg. You

wouldn'tbelieveitbutoneofthe Founders' stations haddrifted over to the planet'sorbit.Onthepictureitlookedlikeanenormoussullenmoontakingupagoodone-thirdofthe sky. Add to this thestation's two automaticallyactivated orbital powerelevators: two shafts ofphantomenergyslidingalongthe planet's surface, suckinginanyonewhodaredtoenter

itsglowandbeamingthemupon board this enormoustechnogenicartifact.

Mythroatrasped.Itookanother swig of water andwentonreading.

No wonder theDargians had developed thecult of the HeavenlyGuardian. While technicallystill living in theDarkAges,they had gained access toboarda ratherwell-preserved

station of an incrediblyadvanced civilization.Imaginetheimpactithadhadontheirownprogress?

The Technologists clantended to believe that at thetime, some of the ancientAImodules on board the stationhad still been functioning.Uponreachingmaturity,eachDargian was supposed toenter the "phantom light".Somewerekilledby itwhile

others receivedpreciousgiftsfrom theHeavenlyGuardian,like implants (I'd alreadyknown from experiencewhatthis felt like) and anincredible wealth ofknowledge, while yet othersdiedofradiationsickness.Allthis had lasted for hundredsofyears.

This had allowed theDargians to learn about thenature of the Universe. Over

time, they had managed torestore a dozen of theFounders' large ships anddiscoveredninemorestations— all this purely thanks tothe technologies they'dadapted.Theyhadn'tinventedanythingthemselves,buttheyhad enslaved the two othercivilizations.Theycybergizedboth the Wearongs and theKamresh, using these sturdyaliencreatures toworkat the

most dangerous and remotelocationsindeepspace.

Today, the Dargians'science was a grotesque mixof borrowed knowledge andmedieval mysticism. Theirview of the universe wasbigoted and aggressive, andtheir society was a divisivefeudal system. With all this,they had become apt spacetravelers and decenttechnicians capable of using

ancientdevices.There you go. Three

alien civilizations against astill-inexperienced gamingcommunity.

I rose and walkedaround the room, stretchingmy numb legs. I'd love toknowhowhumanshadgottenintothelocalpicture.

***

I sat back at theterminal.SeeingasI'dalreadystarted,Imightjustaswelldoeverythingatonce.

According to thePhantom Server's officialstorybook,theFirstColonialFleet — headed by cruisersfrom theNeurusCorporation— had arrived in the DargSystemfiveyearsagoafteralong and enduring journey atsubluminalspeeds.

Humanshadno ideaofthe Founders or theircivilization. Thirty spacecraftand ten cryogenic platformscarrying hibernatedastronauts had left the Solarsystem in search of a planetwith a suitable livingenvironment.

The fate of the FirstColonial Fleet had beentragic. The Dargians hadattacked it as soon as it had

entered thesystem'sspace.Alarge-scale battle had lastedseventy-two hours. Only afew Earth craft had survivedit: abadlydamagedTitan—the corporation's flagship —two freighters,onecryogenicplatform and lots of rescuecapsules.

The Dargian fleet hadsuffered some irreversiblelosses as well, including alltheir large craft. Still, that

couldn't have changedanything. Tens of thousandsof human colonists had beenkilled. The survivors hadbeenforcedtoseekshelteronone of the Founders' stationsnearby.

The flagship had heldout for two more days,covering the retreat of therescue capsules and thedamaged freighters. Afterthat,theWearongs(whomthe

Dargiansusedassomesortoflivingaerospacefightercraft)had destroyed the ship'sdefense equipment, allowingKamresh assault groups toboard the helplessly driftingship.

Judging by the story,the flagship, radiation-riddenand mauled by the reactorcollapse, was still driftingthrough space amid thedebris.

The surviving colonistshad boarded the station. Thespace battle had abated,proving to be only thebeginning of a streak ofhardshipsthatfollowed.

In the five years thathad passed since then, theplayers' community hadmanaged to reclaim andrestore three decks of themammoth structure whichhad received the name of

Argus. They had partiallyrestored its defense systemsandrepairedcertainsegmentsof the infrastructure anddockingfacilities.

According to theTechnologistsclan,we'donlyscratched the surface ofstudying the Founders'legacy.Oneortwopercentatmost.Aroundus lay a virginland awaiting exploration:tens if not hundreds of

thousands of locationscompletewithmind-bogglingtechnologies and mysteriousartifacts waiting for theirpioneers.

The Dargians had lostcontrol of their star system'sspace. Their remotesettlements had beendestroyedduringtheKamreshand Wearongs' mutiny. Bothnowactedasseparateforces.

And finally, the

Outlaws.According to human

survivorslivingonArgus,theOutlaws were traitors,criminals and renegades. Butif the story book were to bebelieved, they were mainlythe survivors of a damagedcryogenic platform that haddrifted away toward theasteroid belt, allowing thecrew to take shelter in theancientminesandcapturethe

Dargians'miningbases.The Outlaws believed

that the Corporation hadabandoned them. They didn'trecognize the Argus'authorities and refused toabide by their laws, guidedonlybytheirownconvictionsandsurvivalneeds.

This time my sievingthrough this wealth ofinformation hadn't broughtmeanymorelevels.Andstill

ithadbeenquiteaninsightfuland — hopefully — usefulread.

Gradually the PhantomServer was taking over mymind, sinking me into itsdepths.One thing I knew forsure: thisworldwasabout tobecome my environment fortheyearstocome,atleast.

***

When I finally couldn'tread any more, I decided tostretchmy legs and go for awalk. I needed to study thelay of the land and see if Icould do some farming andlevelingupsomewhere.Ihadto earnmy living.Therewasnowayaroundit.

The thought of sellingthe ship — which wasformally my property —botheredme.Thisdeal could

solve a lot of problems,allowingme to start levelingmy char properly andpromptly.Still,therewasalsoan alternative route I had sofar not wanted to dismiss.Charon was an excellentpilot. If only he came backinto the game, together wecoulddoa lot.Truehe'dstillbe obliged to wear his slavecollar while at the station,pretending he was my

"property". I could see nowwhy the local populationhated xenomorphs. Theywere still smarting from thedeathofthecolonialfleetandthe conquest of the stationwhich humans had had towrestle from thexenomorphsone deck at a time, losingcountlesslives.

I had two hundredcreditsleftonmyaccount.

Iwalkedalongthewall

skirting the market blocks,my eye searching for anylow-level players in thecrowd.Buttherarepassersbylooked too important andstandoffish — not the typewho'd bother answering anewb'squestions.

Nevermind.I'dworkitoutmyself.

I needed to get somelifesupportcartridgesformyarmoredsuitaswellasafew

micronuclearbatteries.Theywere pricey. I might end upspending my last pennies onthem. Still, the first stage ofthe game was always themostdifficult.

I soon came across ashopIneeded.

A Wide Choice of Exo

andConsumables.Iwalked in.The inside

of the shop was gloomy anddimly lit. Not a singlehologram in sight. Its wallswere lined with shelvesdisplaying glass jars withsymbionts floating in ayellowish liquid. A separatestand held copies of lifesupportcartridges.

With a hiss ofcompressed air, a dooropened. A vendor shuffledtowardthecounterandleaned

against it, looking up at me.Hedidn'tlookwell:stooping,almost doubled up, withsunken eyes and flabbycheeks. "How can I helpyou?"

"I need some lifesupportcartridges."

"You don't need anyexo,doyou?"

"I might. Not now,though."

Heglancedatmygear.

'Thebatteriesarefiftycredits.The cartridges a hundredeach."

Tooexpensive.Withoutsayingaword,Iturnedround,abouttowalkout.

"Wait up," the vendorcalledout.

ReluctantlyIreturned."Ihaveanofferforyou.

I'll give you everything youneed," he lay a pack ofcompatible cartridges on the

counter and added eightbrandnewbatteries.

Naturally, it got mecurious."Whatisit?"

"I need a special exoingredient."

Wasitastandardnewbquest? Go to the forest andkill a hundred rabbits, youwon'tregretit?

I hated doing this sortof thing.Still, Iwasn't in thepositiontochoose.

I raised a quizzicaleyebrow. The vendor didn'tlook like an NPC. Besides,standardquestsneverofferedthissortofupfrontreward.

"Ineed tomakemyselfsomemedication. I just can'tgoonwithout it," thevendorwasn'tcomplaining—hewassimply stating the obvious."But it's not easy to get therightingredients."

"Why?"

"TheDargianfevercanonly be treated with Dargianmetabolites. But we have noone from their planet here.Unfortunately."

"So what do you use,then?"

"The snakes. Or so wecall them. They comeoriginally fromDarg.There'sonly one place on Arguswhere they live.But it'sverydangerous.Thinkyoucando

it? I'll pay you a thousandcredits on top of thecartridgesandbatteries."

Hope gleamed in hiseyes. "Oh, one other thing,"he added. "Take this," heproduced a tiny device andlay it on the counter. "I cansee you've got no implantsyet. This is an externalconnection module. Itautomatically finds thenearestnetworkterminal."

"Howdangerousisit?""There's radiation. And

toxins. And the snakes," hesaid."Mostimportantly,don'tgo too far from the elevatorshaftonceyou'veclimbedoutof it. Just lay in wait theresomewhere. There're tons ofthem around," he added bywayofencouragement.

"How many of themd'youneed?"

"Fiveifthey'resmall.If

they're large ones, threewoulddoit.Butbasically,themorethemerrier."

I'd already had someexperience with both toxinsand radiation. I couldprobably do it. It wasn't theworst of offers, if you thinkabout it. "All right, then.Whichwayisit?"

"You need to find adisused elevator shaft that'smarked Gehenna. You need

toclimbituntilyougettothenextdeck."

"Agreed," Iscoopedupthe cartridges, the batteriesand thenetworkmodule."I'llbebacksoon."

***

Iwalkedoutoftheshop

andheadedinthedirectionofthegravityelevators.Mygearglowed with emerald lights:

my brand-new batteries gavemeallthepowerIneeded.

Soon the gloomy hazeparted, revealing the familiaroutline of the elevatorplatform that Charon and Ihadusedthepreviousday.

I had left empty-handed.Mostofmystuffwasback in the hotel, even theDargianarmor.

I stopped by theplatform, reading the signs.

Three holographic blocksglowed brightly, pointing attheirrespectiveshafts,

ToCorporationsDeckToClanSectorTodockingpadsThe gravity elevator

block comprised twentyshafts circling a massivecenter column.Most of themdidn't work; these were

marked with various dangersigns. Others sportedflamboyantgraffiti.

Farm,hardcore.Levels15to30,onesaid.

The next one glowedwithapredatorycartoonofalong-toothed smilie winkingatme,Noobsarewelcome!

Iwalkedon.Techno Graveyard.

Next to it on the wallsomeonehadpaintedaserve:

a futuristic machine woundwith wires and hung withweapons — quite powerfulones, judging by the fourlaser beams nuking theheavily armored figure ofsome hapless adventureseeker.

This had to be aninterestinglocation.

The next two shaftswere out of service, markedwithradioactivedangersigns.

The next graffiti: asaber-toothed amoebareaching out its tentacles.Exo: nature lovers arewelcome.

No, thanks. Definitelynotmystyle.

I circled the shafts,stopping by the one markedwithasignfadedwithtime,

Gehenna

"Lookingforaplace tosnuffit?"avoicesaidbehindme.

I turned round slowly.A blonde girl stood by theshaft leading to the dockingpads. What would she wantwithme?

Liori. Level 53. Pilot.The Mercenaries Clan, apromptpoppedup.

A bundle of nerves,that's what she looked like.

Herstare, fadedwithfatigue,now betrayed a spark ofinterest: sharp, studying andjust a tad surprised. I tensedup, trying to work out whatcould be wrong with me.Without the Haash, mymediocre gear and theabsence of implants taggedme as a regular noob, anondescriptdetailofthelocallandscape.Whydidshestop?Or was she so pissed first

thing in themorningshewaslookingforsomeonetotakeitouton?

She was cute. Anddangerous. This was myknee-jerk first impression—uncomfortabletothepointofbeing revolting, as if myintuitionwastryingtotellmetosteerclearofher.

Never mind. We'llbattleon.

She needs a good

night's sleep, a thoughtflashed through my mind. Ididn't look away. She'd havetowaitalongtimeforthat.

"Got some farming todo," I answered curtly. Anormalnewb'sreaction.

She raised an eyebrow,her gaze alighting on myhand. The pupils of her eyescontracted:shewasscanning.SuddenlyIknew.

Thering.

My fingers starteditching. She sighed andaverted her gaze as if she'dmistaken me for someoneelse.Thenshepointedatoneof the out-of-service shaftsmarked with the radioactivedanger signs. "You'd bettertrythisone.Gehennaisn'tthebest choice for a newb. Justtrustme.'

"How about theradiation?" I knew that my

gearwasn'tahundredpercentsafe.

"Don'ttrytosurvive,assimple as that," the girl saidinallseriousness.

She turned round andwalkedaway.

***

Naturally,Ihadn'ttaken

Liori's warning intoconsideration. I'd already

accepted the quest and theadvancepayment.Thevendorwasnowawaitinghissnakes.Besides, the thousand creditshe'dpromisedwasnothingtosniffat.

Theverticalshaftofthegravity elevator dissolved inthe darkness. My newsharpened perception,assistedbythehelmet'sbuilt-in sniper sights and themovementcoordinatorI'dgot

fromtheDargianslavedriver,allowed me to make out aservice duct buried in thewall. It was still lined withoccasional step irons inplaces but I could see that itwas going to be a toughascent. The environmentcontrol sensors pinged,changing color; theradioactivecontaminationbarquivered and began filling,stopping well in the yellow

zone.My hand was tingling

as if Liori's stare haddisturbed the mysteriousartifactdissolvedinmyflesh.

Imadeamentalnotetolookup any of theFounders'rarer devices and beganclimbing.

Thirty steps later, myarms and legs were shakingwith exhaustion. I decided totakeabreakandclimbedinto

the serviceduct, doublingupawkwardly inside. My handthrobbedwithheat.

I pulled the glove off.Nothing. No glow nor anyother visual effects thatwould point at the artifact'sfunctioning.

Whatdiditactuallydo?Whatwasitspurpose?

Much tomy surprise, Istill had connection to thestation network. The little

thingy I'd received from thevendor seemed to work. Ihate wasting time in a gameso I decided to put themoment's rest to good use.Whilemy avatar was restingbefore his next ascent, Iburied myself in Wiki. Ifound no mention of mymysterious artifact ring butdiscovered the description ofthe allegedly Haash-mademovement

coordinator.AsIread,achillranup

myspine,The use of allDargian

devices demands theobligatory installation of amindexpander.

Butthatwassomething

Ididn'thave!I looked around me. I

could clearly see the green

markers glowing in the dark,pinpointing the availablesteps within my reachaccording to the currentgravity readings. Thevendor'sdeviceseemed tobeworking, projecting its datadirectlyintomybrainandnotontothehelmet'svisor.

Indeed, a lot hadchanged in my perception,adding details I'd nevernoticed before. As an

example, ifyou focusedonawall long enough, you couldsee in front of it someshimmering threads ofunknownnature.

I only had twoimplants: the semanticprocessor courtesy of theDargians and the mysteriousring thathaddissolvedundermyskin.

I really needed helpfrom a good mnemotech to

workitallout.Oh great. I'd barely

beguntofindmywayaroundthis new world and it wasalready time to get anappointment with aprofessional. As in, excuseme, sir, but could youpleasetell me what I accidentallyimplanted myself with? Nowonder I was pissed. Thenagain, you never know,maybe this little ring only

offeredpositiveeffects.I remembered Liori's

stare, distrustful and sharp.She'd definitely sensedsomething but couldn't tellquitewhatitwas.Iabsolutelyhadtolookintothisringanditsproperties to findouthowit affected my body andabilities and, mostimportantly in my currentsituation,howmuchitcost.Ididn't look forward to losing

my hand in some dark alley— and that was a verypossiblescenario,consideringthe station population was abunchofruthlessthugs.

Never mind. I had tokeepgoing.IfallIwantedtodo was meditate, I'd havebetterstayedathome.

***

It took me about thirty

more minutes to get to thenextdeck.Iscrambledoutofthe shaft and lay there for awhile,unabletomove.WasInow supposed to go to thegym every day to live up totheirauthenticitylevels?Ilaythere gasping for breath, allmymusclesaching,myheartpumpingovertime.

I caughtmybreathandchecked my weapons. Theelevator exit platform was

raised over the floor's leveland was cluttered with thedebris from the damagedceiling.Heretheairwasrare,gravity about 0.7. A reddishgloom enveloped the place.Thedebrishinderedmy fieldof visionbut I didnotice thelow ceiling entangled withina rustling web of damagedcables.

The debris toweredover me, forming a natural

mazewhichwouldn'tbeeasyto exit. I wasn't in a hurry,anyway. With my new lifesupport cartridges, fullbatteries and only 30%moreradioactivity I felt ratherconfident.

Myfeetconstantlysankinsomeunpleasantlycrunchysubstance. I peered at it.Thoseweredefinitelyorganicremains even though nothuman: tiny skeletons of

unusual shape, their spinesforming sine waves orcurving into spirals. I didn'tseeanylimbs.Couldthesebethesnakes?

I noticed more graffiticoveringthedebris.

Syd, have reached

Sector 3. To go further ismadness.

Guys, your respawn

points will be resetautomatically! The chat isdead! Do NOT try to reachthecenter!

Gothix,RIPman.If you're under lvl 30,

staywhereyouare!Mechanically I stopped

and read an unfinished signwritteninashakyhand,

The power unit has

blown up. The raid's beenwiped. The respawn point isatthecenter-

Achillranupmyspine.

There was no one around. Itlooked as if the deck hadbeen deserted for quite awhile.

I moved cautiouslyuntilfinallyI'dleftthehigher

debris behind. Now I couldsee better. The edges of theplatform were littered withsmaller pieces of collapsedceiling structures. I darted totakecoverbehindthem.

Gingerly I looked out.Ragged bulkheads gapedaround like broken teeth.Virtually all of the modules,hangarsandtunnelsthatusedto comprise the deck hadbeen destroyed, their walls

reduced to chipped stumpsbarelyreachingtheceiling.Acrimson light was seepingfrom above through the gapsin the powerful roofing.Shadows lurked in thedistance. The deformedmolten beams archedoverhead, hung withmanipulators that looked likelonghumanarmswoundwithbunchesofcables.

The oblong bodies of

spaceships rose amid theruins (can't think of a betterwordtodescribethem).

A few flashes of lightbroke the crimson gloom. Iheard another popping soundand noticed a barely visiblepalegreengleam.Arespawn?

Another alternativestartpoint?Thethoughtfrozemybrain.Thestationnetworkwas unavailable. Theradiation levels were not too

high yet but the signs on thewallsmademedoubtthatthethousand credits I'd just paidwereenoughtogetmeoutoftrouble.

A sudden power surgeblinded me. My defensesystem kicked in, darkeningthe visor.Theradioactivity ☢ bar wentthrough the roof while thebiological hazard symbol ☣wentoutasiftheareaaround

mewasnowsterilized.I heard a desperate

shriek of pain, followed bythepatteringoffeetnearby.

I couldn't see a thingwithout the implants.Havingsaved me from losing mysight, the visor remaineddark, so all I could do waswait.

Radiation warning!

Your radiation exposure is

10%lethal.Gradually the visor

began to clear. I cast a tenseglance around but it didn'tlook as if there was anyonehere.

I gulped, swallowingthick saliva, and glanced atthe sensors. Yeah, this wasradiation exposure all right.Mygear'sdefensesweren'tuptothesekindsoflevels.Ihad

to shift my backside insteadofstayingput.

I had to admit thesettingwasquitespooky.Themetallic structures wereglowing weakly fromradiation exposure. Hot aircurrents swayed themanipulators, their cableinsulation smoldering. Thespaceships' oblong outlinesshowed through the gloom.Theywere callingmy name,

playing on my heart's moreadventurousstrings.

No. I wasn't going toleave empty-handed. Had Iclimbed all the way up herefor nothing? Besides, it wastime I started to find mybearings.

I sensed a movementandtookaim,readingthefar-offmarkerbarely seen in thedark:

A Dargian python.Xenomorph.Level13.

While Iwas reading it,

the creature promptlydisappeared amid the tangledmessofdeformedbeams.

I had to find a goodposition in order to smokethem from a distance. By nomeans should I allow themanywhere near. My currentlevelwasn'tyetuptoahand-

to-hand with this sort ofmobs.

Theplatformwasn'tthebestplacetotakeaimfrom.Itleftatleastthreehundredfeetbetweenmeandthemonsters'lair, the visibility beingseriously impaired by thegloom. Where the bulkheadshadcollapsedoverheadaboutthirty feet from the floor, theintersections of beams abovethem formed natural islets. I

could see some Dargianpythonsslitherbetweenthem,curling around somedeformed grating-likestructures.

Imadeamentalnoteofmy route. I had to climb offthe platform and cover abouta hundred and fifty feet ofdebris before I found myselfnexttothedestroyedhangars.Icould seea spaceship'shullgleam softly in one of them.

From there I could shoot afew snakes — and take acloserlookattheship,too.

I temporarilygot ridofthe sniper's rifle, putting itaway into the inventory.Submachine gun in hand, Iplaced the handgun in thequick access slot. I was allset.

I could see thelocation's layout quite wellfrom above so Imade a few

screenshots which wereautomatically integrated intothe map. Quickly I climbeddown, seeing the reneweddata show in the interfacewindow. Now I started tounderstand. The spaceshipsweren'therefornothing.

The wide collapsedtunnelwasinfactamagnetictransport hub connected to alarge outside docking area.The whole deck must have

beenpartofit.Didthatmeanthat it had once served tomaintainspaceships?

The main tunnelbranched out into smallerones. The sheer scope of theentire structure was mind-boggling. At least my mindhad nothing to compare itwith. This segment of thestation had to be at least amilelong.

Ohno,Iwasn'tgoingto

walkthatfar.Notthistime,atleast.

The tunnel had longcollapsed, its gaping U-shaped ribs offering goodvisibility.Imappeddowntheremains of three of thehangars. The closest of themhoused the spaceship I'dnoticed.Relatively small, theship was shaped like anelongated horseshoewith thetear-shaped nodule of the

cockpitinthemiddle.Getting there proved

difficult. The tunnel'senormous U-shaped ribsformed a sheer obstaclecourse. Had it not been forthe debris compressedbetween them, I might havehad to climbeach ribupandthen down again in order togettothenextone.

I kept looking around,listening intently. So far I'd

noticed nothing particularlydangerous. As I grewaccustomed to the gloomysetting, I asked myself inever-growing alarm: whatcould have caused the deathoftheearliergroups?

Theanswercameoutofnowhere. I noticed two fierydots in the air about sevenfeet high. I dropped down,ducking behind a massivesteelframe.Apowerfulsurge

ofenergyflashedoverhead.My visor darkened.

When I was finally able tosee again, the place wasenveloped in yellow smokeand the stench of smolderingorganicmatter. The radiationmeterwasgoingoffthescale.The metal around me wasglowing red, scarred andmolten.

Radiation warning!

Your radiation exposure is45%lethal.

Only now did I

understand the meaning ofLiori'swarning.

Don'ttrytosurvive.That was the best and

most realistic advice shecould have possibly givenme.Icouldseemycourseofaction perfectly well now. Ihad to get a few snakes

promptly and then dowhatever it took, kill myselfwith my own hands ifnecessary, just to get arespawn. Trying to braveradiation sickness wasn't agood idea. The sheer agonyof it just wasn't worth theeffort.

***

Actually, I soon saw

that there were plenty ofcreatures around to take careofmyagonizingdeath.

Ihadbarelyclearedtheradioactive plume when alaser flashed from out of thehall's dark depths. Moltenmetal spewed everywhere.Adecrepit chunk of bulkheadcreakedandbegantolist.

Ihadn'tbeenhitbutthedroplets of molten metalhissing around had attracted

the attention of the Dargianpythons. Their vision musthave been infrared-based;theyobviouslyhadlivedherelong enough to know thatsuch laser charges meanttheremightbefoodavailable.

Sevenofthemlefttheirlair at once. I watched thelong,lithe,muscularmonstersslither between theintertwined beams, sendingtheirbodiesinpowerfulleaps

fromonebundleof cables tothe next, then curling aroundthem and freezing, swinging,without taking their eyes offme.

Itwastoolatetorunorhide. I whipped thesubmachine gun up and tookaim,pressingmybackagainstthe steel frame. Three of thesnakes went for me at once.How's that for an adrenalinerush? I hit one in mid-air,

cutting it inhalf.The secondone dodged to one side. Thericocheting sparks spatteredthe air. The third one curledupand froze, swayingbeforehis final deadly leap but Ibeat him to it. A desperateburstoffirereducedhimtoacloud of bloody mist,slappinghiswetfleshalloverthedebris.

Whereweretheothers?I couldn't see them.

Were they lying in wait? Iwas slightly feverish withtension.

Out of the darkness, alaser strobed. More moltenmetal showered me as thelaser charges impacteddiagonally downward.Chunks of red-hotconstruction steel and piecesof Dargian python keptfallingatmyfeet.

I'd no idea who it was

shooting. I just grabbed thesnakes and stuffed themdownmyinventoryslots.

Now back to theelevator.Apparently,Iwasn'tmeanttogettothemysteriousspaceships today. Anothercharge flashed nearby. Myradiation meter went off thescale.

The danger warningwasgoingcrazy.

The darkness parted,

revealing several drones ofunknown design. My targetrecognition systemhighlighted their shapes,outlining their vulnerablespots. Their ancient hullslooked decrepit, riddled withholes.

Radiation warning!

Your radiation exposure is65%lethal.

I could deal with it. Ihadplentyoftimetogetout.

OrsoIthought.The air around me

squirmed with movement.The heaped debris crawledwith hundreds of radiation-mutated creatures scramblingoutoftheirlairs.

ADargian attackedmefirst. Level 30, Pilot, I readmechanically and recoiledtrying to avoid his blow but

stumbled.Falling,Ipulledthetrigger.

The impact threw himbacklikeabloodiedragdoll.This sentient xenomorphbarely had enough Health tolasthimacoupleofhits.

A Wearong was thenext to arrive on the scene.Paying no heed to me, itbegantossingdebrisoutofitsway with its muscularboneless tentacles. Then it

withdrewintothesafetyofitsshell, rose into the air andheadedforthedrones.

I jumped up. Thesituationwasnowcompletelyout of my control. Thelocation had proven lethal.More Kamresh were nowcrawling out of their holes,their appearance bothrevolting and terrifying. I'dseen their images before butrealityprovedbyfarthemore

disgusting. Their numerouswoundsseepedslime.Icouldtell by themiserable remainsof their gear and leftoverdevicesthatthey'dcomeheredrivenbytheirpursuitoflootand xp only to becomeprisoners of the wretchedruins. Time after time theydied, killed by the mobs,radiation and the mysteriousenergysurgeswhilethegameengine kept bringing them

back to life, destroying theirminds and gradually turningthem into these ravenousinsatiable creaturesdevoidofidentityanddrivenbyinstinctalone.

Allthisflashedthroughmy mind in a tangle ofdisjointedthoughts.

My health bar hadalready sagged quite a bitwith all the radiation I'dreceived. All escape routes

had been cut off. The timewas probably right to followup on Liori's advice but bythen,mymindhadgone intoshockastheKamreshjumpedonto the Dargian's body andbegantearingitapart,gulpingdownpiecesofflesh.

AsIcheckedtheirstats,I realized that probably arespawn wasn't such a goodoption. All of them weremarked as players which

meant that in the case ofmydeath,my avatarwould haveto stay here for another tenminutes — which, if thePhantom ServerWikiwas tobe believed, allowed theplayers toexercise their righttocollectloot.

The game engine knewno exceptions. It didn't carethat these creatures had longsince lost their minds andidentities.

Theywoulddevourmybody and vandalizemy gear,destroying the ingredients I'dobtained so painstakingly.Then I'd findmyself back atFoundersSquare—unarmedanddestitute.

Noway.An explosion blasted

overhead.The drones provedworthy of the location. TheWearong hadn't lasted aminuteagainst them.Apiece

of his legendary imperviousshelltumbledtothefloornextto me, splattering everythingaroundwith a kind of gooeyjelly.

Finally, the targetrecognition system identifiedthe drones. Their ellipticalbodies and weaponsconfiguration (one rangingpulse gun and two lasers intheir armor's side mounts)betrayed their origins from

theFoundersera.I pinned the nearest

Kamresh down with a shortburstfrommygunanddartedtowardtheruins.Isimplyhadnootheroption.

A couple ofxenomorphs chased after mewhile the rest went for eachother,fightingovertheloot.

***

I ran desperately,climbingthepileddebriswithonly one thought inmind: tofindagoodfiringposition.I'dalready cleared the skeletalstructure of the destroyedtransporthubandranoutontoa relatively flat platform notfarfromthehangars.

I cast a hurried glancearound, noticing two intactbulkheads and a fragment oftheceiling:allthatwasleftof

a living module. Debrisbarricaded the approaches toit.JustwhatIneeded.

Idartedtowardit.Now that I had steel

walls covering my back, Ididn't have to fear an attackfromtherear.Iraisedmygunandtookaim.

The Kamresh werenear. Those were somedangerous beasts, swift andrevolting.Theirnaturalarmor

was light brown with smalldarkish spots, their front legsending in jagged pincers thatcouldeasilynipthroughsteelbars.Theirmandibles lookedimpressive,too.I'dseenthemrip the Dargian apart, gearandall.

Whatever I did, Ishouldn'tletthemgetclose.

I fired in short bursts,aiming at the face of one ofthem. A glittering aura

enveloped him, thendisappeared. Pieces of hisshell flew everywhere. Ahellishscreamhungintheair.

Asecondonecame forme. I put ten rounds throughhim but they failed to stophim.Thesameglitteringauralit up and went out again.Withapowerfulsweepofhisarm, he brushed away thedebris I was hiding in. Thecreature's enormous pincer

barely missed my head. Irecoiledjustintime.

No idea how it mighthave ended had it not beenforthedrones.They'dalreadyfinished off the remainingxenomorphsandturnedtous,attractedbythefiring.

I'd jolted my shoulderas I fell but immediatelyjumpedback tomy feet.Thenearest Kamresh wasobstructing my field of

vision. His giganticmandibles screeched,dropping viscous saliva. Ashot, a flare, another shot...allpointless.Hehadonehellofapowershield.

I glimpsed the blurredoutlines of some ancientmechanisms whichapproached from alldirections,attackingus.

The nearest Kamreshwas sliced and diced before

heknewit.Hecollapsedoverme, pinning me down withhis body. Then everythingdissolved in a thunderouscacophonyasyetmoreblastsrose in awallof fire, tearingapartoneofthebulkheads.

IfrozeindisbeliefthatIwas still alive. I could hearred-hot fragments of metalclanging on the floor. TheKamresh' stinking body,sliced by the laser charges,

toweredontopofme.I didn't see the drones

any more. The air was thickwith smoke. An outline ofsome technological artifactpulsated in front of mymental eye: this Kamreshwore somekind of an ammobelt with lots of diamond-shaped pouches. I pulled itoffhisdeadbodyandshovedit down my inventory. I hadno time to look into it. All I

cared about at the momentwasgettingbacksafe.

***

The mobs were

lingering in the back. They'dsplit into groups controllingtheelevatoraccess.

The hull of the nearestairspace fighter gleamedwithin the hangar nearby. Itlookedbrandnew,seemingly

defying time andcircumstance as it rose amiddesolation.

How could I resist thetemptation?

Radiation warning!

Your radiation exposure is70%lethal.

I dashed toward the

hangar in short burstsbetween any cover I could

find. Who knows when Imight get another chance tocome back here? Now theunique relic ship was withinarm'sreach!

The hangar was emptyandspacious,itsfloorlitteredwith broken plastic. Severalnetwork consoles and repairterminals towered up — IknewwhattheywerebecauseI'd seen them in the Wikialready and all the

informationIreadonlinewasautomaticallyuploadedtomyaccount.Excellentsystem,bytheway.

Some of the objectslying amid the debris werehighlighted automatically —butunfortunately,allofthemwere beyond repair. Thenagain, I didn't allow any ofthemtodistractme.Anypartof the ancient ship that thecurrentgravityreadingwould

allowme to carrywasworthriskingmylifetoget.

You won't believe mydisappointment. As I gotcloser,Idiscoveredthatalloftheship'shatchesgapedopen,darkness lurking behindthem. A bad premonitiongrew strongerwithmy everystep. The craft lay on itsbelly. Fearlessly I climbedinside, finding myself withinits hollow, echoing hull. Not

asingledeviceinsight!As if on cue, fatigue

and nausea overtook me. Icast another look around,fighting off disappointment,but there was nothingvaluable here apart from thecargonite hull itself. Shame Ididn'thaveanythingwithmetonibbleafewbitsoff!

Icrouched,catchingmybreath, and cast anotherglanceattheKamresh'sweird

belt. I turned it over in myhands this way and that,noticing a fewmicro nuclearbatteryslots,butchosenottoexperiment and shoved itbackdownmyinventory.

I mustered up somestrength and climbed up theship'swallusingafewofmygear's devices, skiddingthrough a narrow hatchwayinto the cockpit. Here tooeverything had been stripped

out. The cockpit's thickarmored walls were studdedwith holes of various shapesand sizes which must haveheld control panels andnavigationaldevices.

I peered out throughone of the holes. The dronesstill hovered nearby. Therewas little chance of gettingpastthemunnoticed.

My life bar glowedorange. The target

recognitionsystemkicked in,zoominginontheoutlinesofthe ancient cyber modulesandhighlightingtheabundantdamagetotheirbodies.

Should I risk it? Whynot?ThiswayIcouldatleastmake another level. I wasn'tgoing to get out of hereanyway. My radiationexposure approached lethallevels.

Overcoming the

growing nausea, I changedmy weapon and crouchednexttoaverticalgunslit.

My hands wereshaking.Mydrymouthtastedfoul. I didn'twant to use theexpensive life supportcartridges. Pointless. I mightnot be able to destroy all tenof the drones but at least I'dshootdownafew.

A daring leveling planstarted to form in my head.

What if I tried to find thedocking area outside thisdeckandmoorCharon's shipthere? That might beinteresting.I'dhavetogiveitsomethought.

I took careful aim andgentlysqueezedthetrigger.

A flash. A shimmeringgolden aura enveloped me.The drone went down in acloudofsmokeasamessagepoppedupbeforemyeyes,

You've dealt critical

damage!You've received a new

level!I bet! Excitement

surgedoverme,wipingawaytheweakness.

Anotherflash.Missed! The bastard

was still alive, but his laserguns were gone in a hail of

fire. I took aim again. Gothim!

Now the Founders'machines noticed me andhurried toward the hangar,firingback.

The spaceship's hullreverberatedwithall thehits.Ihadbarelyshrunkbackfrommy impromptu gunslit whenseveral laser charges wentright through it and slicedthrough the cockpit, leaving

red-hot traces on the wallopposite.

This cargonite wasamazinglysturdystuff.Thosecharges would have goneright through any other alloybutthisonewasstillholding.Risky thoughts beganflashing through my head. Ihad to come back here withCharon—inhisship.I'dlovetoknowifwe'dbeabletotowthis empty shell away

somewhere? What if wecould use it to build aspaceship? And to analyzethe alloy from which it wasmade?

I had barely changedmy sniper's rifle to thesubmachine gun when thefirst drone barged into thecrampedspaceofthecockpit.Nowayyoucouldmissthere.Impulsively I showered itwith long bursts of fire until

you couldn't see the dronethrough the incessant flashes.I too was in trouble though:on hitting cargonite, bulletsturned into clots of plasma.The cockpit filled withincandescent gas. The gunstoppedworking.

That was it. Nothingcould save me from arespawnnow.

Or so I thought. Mygear began melting,

triggering the armor'ssecurity.

Shieldbelt:equipped!Micro nuclear

batteries:equipped!The haze around me

cleared, filling with fresh airwithin the radius of an arm'slength from me as if I'dsuddenly foundmyself at thecenter of a large iridescent

soapbubble.Apowershield?I remembered a similar

aura that had protected theKamresh.

Howcoolwasthat?The drones didn't seem

in a hurry to attack. Theincandescent gas was beingrapidly sucked out of thecockpit into the rest of theship. I heard resonatingclashes as if the Founders'

machines had suddenly losttheir sense of direction andwere now thrashing about,hittingthewalls.

You've received a new

level!You've received an

ability: Robot Technician.You've destroyed five of theFounders' cyber mechanismswithout dying once. From

nowon,thedamageyoudealto any machines usingfirearmswillincrease5%.

I heard more clashing

sounds followed by anexplosion. The drones wereindeed old.The incandescentgas that had formed as aresult of my desperate firinghad gotten inside them,damaging their controlcircuits.

You've received a new

level!You've received an

ability: Robot Technician II!You've destroyed ten of theFounders' cyber mechanismswithout dying once. Fromnowon,thedamageyoudealto any machines usingfirearmswillincrease10%.

My life bar washovering in the red zone. Icould barely move: theradiationsicknesshadn'tgoneanywhere, but I couldn't justlettheFounders'machinesliearoundnextdoor.Ihadtoseewhatkindofloottheyhadforme.

On my command,needlessunkintomyneck.

Stimulants and anti-

radiationdrugsadministered.My head cleared; the

agonizing jointpainbegan toabate.

***

When I finally left the

spaceship, I had twomicrochips and five "cyberingredients" stashed away inmyinventory—lootfromthe

slainenemy.My power shield

glimmered softly. Thingswere looking up. I wasslightly feverish from thebumperdoseofanti-radiationdrugs and combatmetabolites.

True, my success hadhadalottodowithbeginner'sluck and adrenaline drive.Stillyouhadtoagreethatthisleveling scenario was much

better than run-of-the-millfarming.

Mylifebarhadgrownalot and was now staying ateightypercent.

My sensations wereincredible. The PhantomServerworldwassuckingmein, consuming my mind. IknewtoolittleaboutityetbutonethingIdidknow:Iwasn'tgoingtogetboredhere.

I cast a wary glance

around.Ihadtogo.I'dmadethreelevelsandfoundlotsoftechnoartifactsincludingoneunique device. Time to getgoing.

But I couldn't. Toomany ideas crowded myhead. I peered at the beamsoverhead repeating thebranch-offs of the transporthub. It looked safe enough,risinghighabovetheruinsofthe hangars, above all the

collapsed bulkheads and thedockingpads.

Such a shame mysubmachine gun didn't work.Icouldn'tfixitherebutIstillhad the handgun, plus thesniper's rifle and the powershield.NowthatI'dkilledallthe drones, I had to try andclimbupthebeams.Ihadnoidea of the mobs' respawntimes but I might haveanotherhourortwo.

Yes, that was it: I hadtoclimbhighandmakeafewscreenshots so that I couldanalyze them later andhopefullycomeupwithsomesortofstrategy.

I cut my reverie shortanddropped tomybackasalaser charge impacted a fewfeetawayfromme,triggeringmypowershield.

Ohwow.The air around me

began to shimmer in ghostlysheets of light, glowingwithradiation — but my gearsensors still hovered in theyellowzone.

I froze. It wasn't evenmy shield's promptwork butits adaptability that pleasedme the most. I checked itssettings. I was right: I couldseeseveralnewoptionsthere.

I'd never seen theseicons before. The semantic

processor tried and failed totranslate them. All it couldcome up with was, Atechnological artifact. Circathe Founders' era. Languagerecognition requiresinstallation of a dedicateddatabase.

Very well. Let's do itanother way. I rose andreached out, immersing myhand into the shimmeringglow.

The shield upped itsshine but the sensors'readingsstayed in theyellowzone.Excellent.Inoticedtwomore option icons — orrather sliders. I focused onone, trying to move it. Theshield began to billow out.Okay. So it could be maxedouttotenfeet.

That was all well andgood but the powerconsumption had grown

respectively.Whichwasn'tsogoodafterall.AndhowwasIsupposed to touch anything?What if I needed to picksomethingup?

This wasn't the besttime to experiment but thenagain, the drones had done agood job of mopping theplaceup.ItlookedasifIwasrelatively safe for a shortwhileatleast.

The thought made me

chuckle.Mancangetusedtoanything indeed. This placewas death incarnate — andstill...

Nevermind.Ihadotherthingstodo.Whatabout thatsecondicon?

Gingerly I moved theslider. The shield powercontrol? Excellent. Just whatIneeded.

I began to graduallylower the power, keeping an

eye on the life supportreadings. There! I seemed tohave found the minimumlevels of the shield's hazard-neutralizingproperties.

Mythroatspasmedwithnausea. The medication hadslightly lowered theexposuredose. I wasn't going to dieany more but I still felt likeshit.

I went on studying theshield'sproperties.HowwasI

supposed to touch things? Ilowered power to theminimumand reached down,picking up a piece of debris.It worked! The item wasn'tdamagedbytheshield.

And what if I tried tograb it?To imitateanassaultattempt?

I made a rapidmovement to try to grab abent piece of metal. Theshield ballooned up. The

metal fragment glowed withheat.

Okay. I looked around,searching for the nearestscalable bulkhead andgingerlybeganclimbingit.

***

The power shield

surprised me once again byswitching off automaticallyonce danger levels had

dropped.Thatreallyscaredmeat

firstasIthoughtitmusthavebroken down or that maybethe batteries were alreadydead.Butno—themomentIapproached another radiationsource, the shimmering auraenvelopedmeonceagain.

Knowing this wasworth all the trouble. Now Ihadsomeideaoftheartifact'suniqueproperties.

In the meantime, thelife support gave me a fewmore injections. By then, I'dalready climbed up and waslyingon topofawidebeam,looking around. Somedistance away lay a hugetransport junction, visible bythe regular flashes of energyemissions.

I took a fewscreenshots, then used mysniper sights to zoom in on

theruins.Myfirstimpressionhad been correct: the deckwaspartoftheship'sdockingfacilities. I counted nineships: five definitely fighterswhile the four remaininglarger ones must have beencargo craft. They probablycontained cargonite worthmillions.

Wait up, I told myself.You can't be the only smartone around. Now why

wouldn'tanyonehavethoughtof getting in here via theoutsidedockingarea?

Gradually I movedforward, keeping my eyesfixedonthejunction.I'dloveto know what it was overthere and what was causingthoseflaringemissions.

I was gasping forbreath.Allmymusclesshookwithfatigue.Ruinslaybelow.I looked up. Judging by the

damage, the ceiling must atsomepointhavebeenmolten,then frozen incircularwavesscarred in places by deepslicingcuts.

Whateverhadhappenedhere? A technologicaldisaster?

Myimaginationofferedscenesofagiganticexplosionthatmusthavehit theceilingleaving the circular marksbehind.

Thatdidn'tsoundgood.I just hoped I didn't fallvictim to another one ofthose.

Never mind. I decidedtomoveslightlyfurtherontoget a better look of thejunctionandthencallitaday.

After about a hundredand fifty feet I discovered avery convenient and secureplatform formed by severalbeams.Here, radiation levels

wereconsiderablyhigher.My sight-enhanced

vision slid along the fire-polished walls noticing largefadedletters,

Noentrypastthisline...

automatic respawn transfer...Respawnpurgatory...

Okay.Igotit.Whoever it was, they'd

markeddownthespotbeyond

which your respawn pointwould be automaticallychanged.

Talking about which,wherewasthatspotexactly?Iseemedtohavealreadymadeit dangerously close to thelocation'scenter.

Now I could see thejunction clearly. Here thebulkheadswere all but gone,reduced to short protrudingstumps.

About a hundred feetfurther on lay a vast squarewith a jagged hole in themiddle. This was where allthe tunnels must have oncemet.Nowhowever,therewaslittle left. Even theirmassiveU-shaped ribs weremisshapen and molten, someof them turned into frozenpoolsofoxidizedmetal.

OntheothersideofthesquareIcouldseethegaping

mouth of a tunnel — whichmust have led to the outsidedockingarea.

I couldmake out somefamiliar shapes scatteredamid the debris. I had toconcentrate to think whatthey might be. Then Irealized: these were crudelymademodern-dayspaceships,exactly like those I'd seenonourapproachtothestation.

Apparently,anyattempt

to lootsomecargonitewouldendbadly.

Who on earth had shotthem down? I looked aroundme restlessly, then checkedmy rear. Had I missedsomething?

I peered at the ceilingand noticed a large gapingholeaboveme.

Around me lay aradiation-drenchedwasteland.Haditnotbeenforthepower

shield, I'd have died awriggling, agonizing deathlongago.

Ihadtoturnback.Ihadabsolutely nothing to gainhere.

Toolate.A blinding light rose

out of the depths of thejagged void below. I shrankinto the beams. My visordarkenedrapidly.Apowerfulflare roared out of the gap.

The outer bubble of mypower shield burst intoflames. The ruins around theepicenter glowed red as itheated up. Not all of theenergy surge had hit theceiling:thegapoverheadhaddeflected some of it, sendingfiery tornadoes coursingaround. I heard the sound ofdebriscollapsing.Andontopof all the visual effects, thelocation was instantly filled

withinvisibleradiation.You'vereceivedalethal

doseofradiation!Dammit!My micro nuclear

batterieswerenearlydeadbuttheautomaticskept replacingthemwithnewones.

The pain was likenothing I could describe. Ivery nearly fainted. It felt as

ifmyeverynervehad turnedintoalivewire.

I tried to jump to myfeet—noway.Mybodyjustwouldn'tobeyme.

I forced my head up.Myvisionblurred,thencameback into focus as I receivedanewdoseofmetabolites.

Which was exactlywhatIdidn'tneed.Hadn'tshetoldme,don't try to survive?It'donlymakethingsworse!

But it wasn't as if Icould do anything about it.Thewretchedautomaticshadamindoftheirown.

Thepaindidn'tgobutithad dulled somewhat. No, Iwasn't going to push it anyfurther. I reached for thehandgun,myfingersshaking.These authenticity levelscould drive anybody mad. Ijustdidn'twantto-

I froze, forgetting my

suicideattempt.About fifty feet away

from me, amid scorcheddebris where the moltenbeams had merged with thedeck, rose a column ofemerald light. Another one.Andyetanother.

Arespawn?A Dargian appeared

first.Withadesperateyelphedarted off but had barelymade a dozen paces. I

wouldn'tevenspeculateaboutradiationlevelsthere.

A human followed. Amale.Hewasaterriblesight,his gear all scorched.He toodarted for cover anddisappeareddownahole.

The third column ofemerald light produced agoblin,ofallthings.

I froze, speechless.Mechanically I zoomed himin on him, noticing the

familiarmarkonhiswrist.Arbido?Itcouldn'tbe!Thegoblinscreamedin

desperation. His green hidewas rapidly covering incrimson blisters. His eyespopped out, his swollentongue suffocating him. Hisflimsy little legs gave underhim.He collapsed andbeganthrashing about. Then hedisappeared.

Arespawn.

OnceagaintheDargiandartedoff.Thistimehemadetwentypacesorso.

Arespawn.The goblin reappeared

in an emerald flash. I couldclearlyseehiseyesfilledwithagony, devoid of hope.Immediately he collapsed,choking on his croaks,pointlessly trying to crawlaway as his body erupted inbleeding ulcers, his flesh

falling apart, baring thebones.

Arespawn.Theman in themolten

gear must have hadextraordinary willpower. Hedidn't scream. He ran, histeeth clenched, knowing hewas doomed and still tryingto get as far from theepicenterashecouldtoavoidanother torturousresurrection.

Iglimpsedafaintnametag,

Jurgen. Level 43.

Human.ATechnologistHe must have had one

hell of a metabolic implant,but without cartridges it wasburning his own body'sresources.Hisfacewasgauntwith sharp cheekbones andsunkeneyes.

This time too he'dmanaged to hole upsomewhere but I doubted itwould help himmuch. I hadno idea how often thesesurges of energy happenedbut it was pretty clear thatanyone who happened to bearound was doomed. Whatdid that sign next to theentrance say — Respawnpurgatory?

I broke out in a sticky

coldsweat.Aflash.Arbido. Sentient

Xenomorph.Level1.Alldoubtsweregoneat

thispoint.Buthowhadhegothere?

His blood-curdlingscream froze in the hall'sechoing silence. His eyeswere bleeding. He had no

chance.All that stood between

us was an invisible barrierand the faded sign at theentrance marking the triggerpoint of an automaticrespawntransfer.

All that stood betweenuswashiscynicalarrogance,hisgreedandhishatred.

He'd set me up. He'dfleecedme to the bone, thensentmetoatorturousdeathat

thealternativestartlocation.They say revenge is

sweet. And still my everynerve was burning with arenewed agony. I could seehis death throes. They mademe feel foul. I began toshake. Compassion was astrange feeling unfamiliar tome — but now it rippedthroughmybrainlikearazor.

A respawn. Himcroakingagain.

My hits were alreadydownto50%.

Before, I had onlyknown two emotions— twoextremes that framedmy lifeflow.

Excitement.Boredom.ButthePhantomServer

seemed to ravageyourmind.It defied all convention.Goddamnauthenticity.

My numb fingerswouldn't obey me, the

emergency batteries refusingtoclickintotheirslots.

Thelifesupportsysteminterface was ablaze withdata. I shot myself up withevery metabolite and anti-radiation drug I had. Mymind swam. My life barjumped to 100%. Side effectwarnings flashed before myeyesbutIcouldn'tcareless.

Istoodupandrandownthelistingmoltenbeams.

Icrossedtheline.Yourrespawnpointhas

changed.Ignoring themessage, I

jumped down on the otherside of the collapsedbulkheads, maxed out thepower shield radius anddarted toward the emeraldshimmer.

I reached the respawn

pointinacoupleofleaps.Flash.Thenanother.It justsohappened that

myshieldhadcaughtbothofthem. The Dargian wasnowhere to be seen. Arbidoand Jurgen stared at meuncomprehendingly, unsurewhytheirpainwasnowgone.

"I've got a powershield! Get moving!" I triedto explain realizing I must

have sounded rambling andconfused. The goblin wasshaking, awaiting the nextdose of torture to come.Jurgen'seyeslitupwithhopeand understanding. He musthave grasped at least thetechnicalpartof their rescue.Neither seemed to wonderabout my motives — themoment wasn't right. Mymaxed-outshieldwasholdingtheradiationwellbutitwasn't

going to last forever. Thebatteries had five to sevenminutesatmost.

"Whichof us haveyoucome to save?" Jurgen's eyeswere filled with inhumanpain.

"Him!" I pointed atArbido.

It all happenedinstinctively. I had no rescueplan whatsoever, but thetechnologistdidn'twastetime

thinking."Take him, then!" his

commanding hand motionedatthegoblin.

We had to move fastwhile staying within thepowershield.Ifwemadeittothe elevators alive we had adecent chance of descending—andoncewewerebackonthe Market Deck, we couldpay to have their respawnpointsmoved.

Theproblemwas,Ihadnomoney.

Jurgen seized theinitiative fromme.He'd longstudied the area and knewexactly what needed to bedone. He pointed at thenearest gaping hole. "Servicetunnels!"

Igavehimthehandgunandliftedthegoblin.Histinyshuddering body wasweightless, his huge eyes

welled with tears.Instinctively he clung tome,still incredulous at hissurvival.

***

Feverish, I don't

remembermuchofourreturnroute.

The service tunnels ranthe entire floor. They werehell incarnate. Their walls

glowed with radiation. Eachdarkbranchofthemharboredcreatureswho'dlonglosttheiridentity in the mind-blowingsequence of respawns. Somewere aggressive, otherscowardly. Jurgen and I ranfor dear life, him shooting,me trying tokeepupwithouttripping.

Everything here wassoaked in pain, hunger andfear: the triumphofprimeval

instincts. Not a singlecreature we'd met showedsignsofintelligentbehavior.

I quickly lost all senseof direction. I stoppedcounting paces, not eventrying to understand whereJurgen was taking us. Thestimulants had worn off,bringingback thepainwhichstartedtofeedonmymind.

Jurgen could see thestate I was in. He said

nothing. He had very littleammo left. Now the powershieldwastheonlythingthatkept the monsters away.Seeing the shimmersurrounding us, they shrankbackandletusthrough.

Thetunneltookseveralsharp turns, always headingdown.

I started to lag behind.Jurgen slowed up. His spiritwas amazing, his strife for

survival empowering mesomewhat.

We seemed to havebeenrunningforeternity.Thepower shield began to fade.Were the batteries downalready?

They weren't. Thedanger level indicators wereturninggreen.Butwherewastheelevator?Iwasn'tsureI'dsurviveanotherclimbdown.

Suddenly we found

ourselves in a dead end. Istared at a bulkhead with itsmassivelockedhatch.

I just couldn't believeit!

"What other weaponsdoyouhave?"

Icouldn'tthinkstraight.Jurgen'svoicebarelyreachedme. I struggled to open theinventory and pulled out thesniper'srifle,dumpingitontothefloorlitteredwithdebris.

Hepickeditup."Standback!"

He began shooting atthebulkhead, the fireworkofdirect hits evaporating themetal a good two feet fromthe hatch. What was thepoint? Soon, however,somethingsparkedwithin theresulting hole. A shortcut.Thehatchjerkedaside.

Jurgen climbed outfirst.Ifollowed.

I'd never been herebefore. It was a small halllined with fake buildingfacades topped withholographicsigns,

Technologists'SectorPilots'SectorMercenaries'SectorI could see two more

tunnels. They were alsomarked,

ToCorporationDeckToMarketDeckWhile I was looking

around, Jurgen grabbed thehand of a tall pilot clad inforce-field armor. Theyseemedtobearguing.

My lifewasdwindling.Sevenpercent left.Unable tostand, I slumped to the floor.Thatwasit.Thatwastheend

of me. Welcome to respawnpurgatory, you freakin'Samaritan.

High-level players keptwalking past, slowing downtolookatus.

I could sense hatred intheir stares — although itwasn'taddressedatmebutatthegoblindoubledupnexttome.

He was a Level 1Xenomorph, wasn't he? One

kick in the butt would finishhimoff.

I forced myself out ofmyslumberand reached intomy inventory, clicking theslave collar shut on my ex-employer'sneck.

Jurgen came back,tryingtoexplainsomethingtome. Unable to procure aresponse, he tore the fire-polished glove off my handand rubbed some silvery

substance intomywrist, thendidthesametoArbido.

Iwasvirtuallyblindbythen. My mind was shuttingdown.

Three percent life...two...one...

Darkness.

***Respawn

The emerald light

envelopedme.Death still heldme, its

doomed desperation freezingmy avatar solid. But as Iopened my eyes, I sawFounders'Square.

The goblin in a slavecollardoubledupbymyfeet.Jurgen was nowhere to beseen.

ChapterFour

PhantomServer.Login

I sat up, awoken by aninsistentknockingatthedoor.

Our hotel module wasdark.TheHaashwasstillinacoma.Thestenchintheroomwas awful. I was parched. Istood up, nearly stumblingoverArbidowho'd curled upon the floor by my bed,shudderinginhissleep.

Stepping over him, Istaggered toward the washbasin and splashed some

water on my face, thengulped some down. It tastedrusty.

I unblocked the dooreven though I didn't reallywanttoseeanyone.

Jurgen stepped in. Helooked around, sniffing theair, but didn't say anything.He walked over to me andpoked my shoulder with afist."Weneedtotalk."

Why was he

whispering?Washeafraidofwakingthegoblinup?OrwashewaryoftheHaash?

We sat down at thefolding table. All I couldofferhimwassomewater.

"How are you?" I hadno idea what to talk to himabout.Whatdidhewantfromme? Had he come to saythankyou?

"I'm all right," helookedmestraightintheeye.

"I owe you for my rescue,"somehow he didn't soundparticularly grateful."Decidedtopopby.Here.It'syours," he lay my handgunontothetable.

The goblin's earspricked up. Hewasn't asleepanymore,justfakingit.

I took the gun. It wasfullyloaded,itsbatteriesfullycharged. I knew this wasn'twhat Jurgenhadcome to see

me for, though. So I justwaitedforhimtogoon.

"You've got problems,Zander."

I raised a surprisedeyebrow."Howcome?"

"Because of me," headmitted. "I'm not going toscrew around. Gehenna iswell-known. Whoever getsstuck in the respawnpurgatoryisneverseenagain.Lots of people used to die

thereatfirst.Nowtheyallgotsmart. No one ever farms itanymore.Okay,maybeafewdesperate idiots do, but theynever stray away toward thecenter."

"How did you end upthere, then?" my questionsoundedlogical.

"Are you serious? Youmeanyoudon'tknow?"

"Nottheslightestidea,"I said, faking indifference

even though I already had afunny feeling this Gehennatripwouldcostme."I'veonlybeen here for a couple ofdays.I'venoimplantsnorxp,nothing.Justanoob."

"Yeah," he squintedunkindly. "A noob with astate-of-the-art Dargianfighter, a mysterious artifactand a menagerie ofxenomorphs?"

Irackedmybrainsfora

suitable answer. Why wasJurgen so sure the ship wasDargian?HadCharon lied tome? Or was Jurgen'sinformationincorrect?Bythemysterious artifact he musthave meant my funny littlering,nodoubtaboutthat.

"It just happened," Ifinally said, hoping to side-step the subject. It didn'twork.

"The mechanics said

you told them you'd justarrived from Earth," Jurgen'swords lacked sense. "Thenyou sold theDargian gear tothe Armorers for peanuts.You know, don't you, thatthey extracted seventythousand credits' worth ofdevicesoutofit?"

Iturnedpale.I'dknownof course Iwas selling it offcheap, but not that cheap!"That'smy business," it took

all my willpower to concealmy fury. "What was it yousaidaboutGehenna?"

"Whatever.Asyousay,it's your business. I justwanted to warn you: if youare an Outlaw, you'd betterleave the station now. Don'tpushyourluck."

"Beg your pardon!"now I was really furious."What's that for gratitude? Ifyou had your brains fried, it

wasnone ofmymaking!AnOutlaw!Howlongdidittakeyou to come up with thatone? I can't even open mychar's talent branches! Yourwretched implants block mydevelopment!"

He listened, castingglances at my left hand. Hiseyes were cold and sharp. Ididn't think he believed aword I'd said. But he'dapparently scanned the

mysteriousartifactbecausehetensed up and said throughclenchedteeth,

"Very well, Zander.You've got an hour to get toyour ship and fuck off. OnehourisallIcandotodistractthe local hounds... inappreciationforyourrescuingme. If you don't, that's yourproblem. We have zerotolerance for xenomorphbuddies."

"What made you thinkI'manOutlaw?"

Againheglancedatmyhand. "Who implanted youwithanAIneuronet?"

"What neuronet?" Iboiled inside, seething withfury. The wretched ringagain!"Irepeat,Ireallydon'tknow what you're talkingabout! I don't give a shitabout your turf wars!Understand? I'm not an

Outlaw and I've never beenone!Iwassetup!Theymademetakethealternativestart!"

Hefrowned,apparentlytrying to see the problemfrom a different prospective.He blinked several times, asif accepting the idea that hewas being told off by anordinarynewb.

Ididn'tgiveashitwhatlevel he was! He could belevel1000forallIcared!

I sensed the change inhis attitude. "Let's set itstraight, once and for all," Isaid. "I can prove my story.But you too will tell me thetruth."

"Whichtruth?""How you ended up in

respawnpurgatory.""All right, then!" he

slammedhisfistonthetable.Thegoblin shrank. "If you'renotanOutlaw,I'lltellyou!If

it's true that you didn't go toGehenna just to save mehoping to win theTechnologists'confidence!"

"I had no idea where Iwas going, don't youunderstand! I sure didn't gotheretosaveyou!"

"So why the fuck didyou go to purgatory? Yougonna tell me you didn't seethe warning? That you can'treadorsomething?"

"I went there to gethim!" Ipointedat thegoblin."I've had enough of this. I'msendingyoumylogs."

The beauty of log filesis, they document everythingthat happens in a game.Damage dealt, damagereceived, quests completed,locations visited andeverythinginbetween:allthelevels, abilities, artifacts, allyour gaming record in strict

chronologicalorder.Battlelogsandrelevant

screenshots can be used asdirect proof of a player'sclaims.

Jurgen could fullyappreciate my gesture. Hisstare clouded as he focusedonthedatahewasreceiving.

Soonhecameoutofhistrance. "That's rough," helooked at me with respect."But you've done really well

for a newb. I owe you anapology. When I scannedyour neuronet, I reallythoughtyouwereanOutlaw.They're the only ones braveenough to install analternativeidentity."

"A what?" I stood up."Whatkindofidentity?"

"One of the Founders'artificial intellects. Sit down,will you? I can see now youdidn'tmeantoabsorbit."

"DoyoumeanI'mnowahosttoanancientAI?"

"Not all of it," he said."What you host is only afragment. But it explains alot,"headded.

"Likewhat?""TheFounders'AIs are

a combination of severalneuronet modules," heexplained expertly. "YouneedfiveofthemtoformthesimplestAI,"hesoundedasif

itwasgoodnews."Ihaveonebutitseems

towork!""Exactly. That's

becauseit'smergedwithyournervous system. It can'tchange you radically but itcanaddcertainnewabilities.Take your movementcoordinator, for instance.Without amind expander it'svirtuallyuseless.But judgingby the logs, you seem to be

usingit,don'tyou?""Ido."Was this the Phantom

Server's attempt to finishmeoffthroughanxiety?

"Relax," Jurgenrepeated. "Nothing bad hashappenedyet.IusedtoknowsomeOutlawswhohad threeofthesemoduleimplants."

Well, if this was goodnews... My throat was dryagain. I got up, gulped some

rustywaterfromthetap,thencame back to the table. "Isthere a way to remove or atleastneutralizeit?"

"NotthatIknowof.Wealready tried. The Foundersmade sure their neuronetmodules implant themselvesinto the host, then leave himwhenhedies.Nogoodtryingtogetitout."

"CanIuseit?"Hegrinned.Hisopinion

ofme seemed to have uppeda notch. "You might. Thethingis,nooneknowswhereor when it might happen.These artifacts areunpredictable.Theycangrantyou control over someancient system suites,unblock a sealed room orsuggest a solution whenyou'restuck."

"What'sthecatch?"He paused. "The catch

is, ifyou findanotheroneofthese you won't resist thetemptation to absorb it too.You'llhonestlythinkit'syourown decision. But it's reallythe Founders' neuronet thatdoesthethinkingforyou.I'veseen it happen before. So bewarned."

"And what if I don'tresistthis...temptation?"

He gave a non-committal chuckle. This

wasn't the answer I waslooking for but apparently Icouldn't expect more fromhimatthemoment.Eitherhedidn'tknow theanswerorhedidn'twanttotalkaboutit.

"Well, now," I said."Yourturn.Howdidyouendupinrespawnpurgatory?"

He struggled with theanswer. "It was an insiderjob,"hefinallyadmitted."Wehaveourownlawshere.They

may be unwritten but they'retough, trust me. TheTechnologists clan wasfoundedbyfivemen.Twoofthem got mixed up with theOutlaws. Had they had theirway, they would havegradually sold the wholestationdown the riveron thesly.Idiscovereditall.I'mnotgoing togiveyou thenames,they won't mean anything toyou.Sobasically,itallended

in a set of clan purges.Theyfound those two and broughtthem to justice — but theydid let them live which is ashame. How could they not?The pair of them were theclan'sfounderfathers.SotheybannedthemfromArgusandthought the question closed.But they thought too soon.The traitors had plenty ofhangers-on left at the station.Technically speaking, I was

captured by some Outlawsduring their last raid. Theythrew me into purgatory.Only I know whose ordersthey acted upon. Lots ofpeoplearen'thappytoseemeback,trustme."

"Why are you at warwiththeOutlawsthen?Aren'ttheyhumanlikeourselves?"

His face darkened."There're humans andhumans. This you should

know. We're so few. Thecolonial fleet is defeated.Everydeckofthisstationhasbeen awash with blood.Argusisourhomenow,don'tyou understand? Divided,who are we? — We are amindless mob. Thexenomorphs would crush usand make us all wear slavecollars. You've been theirprisonersoyoushouldknow.AndtheOutlawsdon'tgivea

shit! They sell the Founders'technologies to the enemy!"crimsonspotsspreadoverhischeeks. "The Dargians don'thave the guts to farm theFounders' artifactsthemselves! They onlysurvive thanks to the slavesand various renegades!" hespat out the last word. "Sobasically, Zander, it's likethis:it'seitherthemorus.Nocompromiseispossible.Why

do you think all the otherstations are not exploredyet?"

"Idon'tknow.Why?""Becausethemomenta

group ventures there, theOutlaws are already therewaiting for them! Sellingthem into slavery andvending their artifacts andresearch results to theenemy!"

I didn't say anything.

What could I say? I couldunderstandthelayofthelandperfectly well now. TheOutlaws were to be avoidedatallcost.

"DoesthatmeanIhaveproblemsnow?"Iaskedhim."Because of my rescuingyou?"

"That remains to beseen!" he blurted out."There're plenty of rottenheartsaround,nodoubtabout

that. Take themercs— theykeep themselves tothemselves. They'reaccountable to no one. I'mprettysuretheyworkbothforusandourfoes.Alltheotherclans and corporations are ateach other's throats all thetime.Listen,Zander,"hegavemea crooked smile. "You'vebeen honest with me so Iwant to repay you in kind.There'll be no problems. At

least I'lldoall Ican tomakesureyou'resafe."

This confession mademe feel uneasy. In terms ofgameplay, Jurgenwasoneofthe top players. But hedefinitely had his realitiesmixedup.OrshouldIsay,hismindhadmadearealityshiftto the Phantom Server. Iwouldn't be surprised if he'deven removed his Logoutbutton: out of sight, out of

mind."How long have you

beenhere?"He looked up in

surprise. "Five years. IarrivedherewiththeColonialFleet. I was a mechanic onboardtheTitan."

Aha. He must havebeen one of the first guineapigs who had to work withvirtually untested implants.Thatcouldexplainthisweird

realityshiftinhismind."Your idiots in those

colonial centers should havecalibrated their machinery alongtimeago!"heclenchedafist. "What's the point insending you one by one andrelease you in the mostunexpected places? I can'twait till they can finallyemploy warp drives! If theycould send us a few fullymannedspaceships,we'dsort

thismessnowandforall!""I'm pretty sure they're

working on it," I just didn'twant toarguewithhim.He'dhaditbadasitwas.Afterfiveyearsofusingtheimplant,hewasn't likely to rejoiceatmyreminding him that this wasonly a game and that realitylayontheothersideofit.

"Right,"allofasudden,he was in a hurry. "I've putyou onmy friend list. I'll be

in touch. I'll sort it out withyour ship. No one's gonnabother youwith questions. Ifever you decide to join theclan, I'll give you arecommendation.Havingsaidthat, you'remore of the pilottype.It'suptoyou.Andnowsorry,Ineedtosplit."

Herose,abouttoleave."Jurgen? One more

thing.""What'sthat?"

IpointedattheHaash.He frowned. "What's

theproblem?""He won't wake up.

He'sbeenlikethisforthelastfewdays."

He shrugged. "That'sfine. From what I heard, theHaash have this tendency tohibernate if they overexertthemselves."

"D'youknowhowIcanwakehimup?"

He chuckled. "Well,youcangototheExosector,I suppose. Or just ask somevendor. There must be ametabolitethatwilldoit."

"Willdo,thanks.""I'm off, then. Take

care. Sorry, I really need torush.Lotsofthingstodo.Letme know if you haveproblems."

Thedoorclosedbehindhim.

Iwasleftalonewithmy"menagerie" and tonsof newinformationtodigest.

***

Thegoblindidn'tmove.

He curled up nice and snug.Like,hewasfastasleep.

"Getup!"Arbidostartled."Getup,Isay!I'vehad

enoughofyourplayingdead!

Timetohavewords!"He raised his head,

looking bleakly at me.Someonemust have tweakedhis avatar: he was too gauntand puny compared to theclassicalgoblinbuild.Ohno.This time I'd be immune tohissobstories.

I pointed at the chair."Now sit down and tell meeverything. Don't play anygameswithmeoryoumight

regretit."He touched his collar.

Grunting, he staggeredtoward the chair andscrambled into it, hunchingupsothatonly the topofhisheadshowedabovethetable.

I folded the table tolookathim,thenwaited.

He started shaking.Hismouth contorted, his heavygasps tearing through thesilence. He didn't at all look

like the shameless street-smartdealerIusedtoknow.

Whatwasheafraidof?My wrath? Doubtful. Notaftertheagonizingsuccessionof deaths and respawns he'djustbeenthrough.Thenagainitdependedonhowexactlyithad affected him. He mightbescaredwitlessofanykindofpainnow.

He wasn't. His shakingsubsided.Helookedupatme

fromunderhiseyebrowsandIcouldseetheoldexpressionin his eyes. Then it diedaway, his frail little frameshakingwithrenewedforce.

"I can't," he finallymanaged.

"Youcan'twhat?""I can't speak," his

voicekeptbreaking."Tryit.Ifyouputmein

the picture, I might removethe collar. It's simple, really.

The moment I remove thecollar, theLogoutbuttonwillgo live again. You can fuckoffbacktotherealworld,onone condition. I need thetruth.AndIwantmysavingsback."

He sank into a sullensilence. "Zander, I reallycan't."

"Why?""Idon'tremember!"his

voice rose to a shriek.

"There's nothing! Just thepain, death and more pain!"the chair underhimbegan tovibrate with his shaking."Zander, please... letme stayhere for a while. I don'tremember the last few days.Only the pain... I'll pay youback... I will, I promise... Icanbeuseful..."

The old boy didn'tmake sense which was onlyunderstandable, I suppose. A

dayortwoinGehennawouldhave driven anyone off theirtrolley.Still,I'dhavelovedtohaveknownwho'dfittedhimwith an implant and thrownhim into purgatory. Thewayit looked, it was probablysometurfwar.

Possible. Arbido didbusiness on a grand scale.There had to be quite a fewpeoplearoundwishingtotakeitover.

Memory loss, yeahright.Hestillrememberedmymoneythough.Whatwasthatsupposed to mean? "So howcan you be useful to mewearingthiscollar?"

Apparently, I had aheart. I actually felt sorry forhim. I could clearly see thathe didn'twant to go back—buthewastooafraidtoadmitit even to himself.What hadthey done to him? Didn't he

understand that staying herewouldn't make it safer? Hecouldn'tchangehisavatar.Hewas doomed to foreverremain a xenomorph — andhemightlivetoregretit.

After some thought, Idecided to give him moretime. He needed to get abreakandfindhisbearings.Iwas different: I was alreadyhooked on the PhantomServer with its adrenaline

rushandthepromiseofalifeas the adventure seeker I'dsecretly believed myself tobe. I'd long given up on reallife. But Arbido wasn't cutoutforthis.

Orwashe?"Very well, then. You

can stay here for a while," Ijustcouldn'twatchhimshakeformuchlonger."Hungry?"

Iexpectedhimtoforgethis "poor goblin" mask by

showing some interest. Iwasmistaken. Arbido wasn'tpretending. He was stillshaking violently anduncontrollably.

I seemed to attractsome truly whacky partners.One of them had been in acomafor threedays ina rowwhile the other had gone allshaky and amnesiac. Whatwas I supposed to do withthemboth?

***

About an hour later I

hadfinallysortedoutmygearanddecidedtogooutanddoafewthings.

Arbido hadn't said aword. He'd curled up in thefar corner and was sittingthere shaking and chatteringhisteeth.

"Areyoucold?"

The room was warmthough. The old boy had anervous breakdown, that's allitwas.

"Come here," I movedthe chair to the networkterminal and adjusted theseat."Sitdown."

Heobeyed."Stop shivering for a

second, will you?" I fakedangertryingtoshakehimoutof his shock. "If you plan to

stay you'd better start byreading theWikiorcheckingthemarkets!"

Heshrankandnodded."Verywell,"Isaid."I'm

off.Ihaveaquesttoclose."The market deck was

crowded. I took the familiarroute. The shop vendor wasidly twiddling his thumbsbehindthecounter.

Seeing me, he perkedup. "Zander! I thought that

you...""Dream on," I lay the

chunksofDargianpythonsonthecounter."Goodenough?"

"Of course! Look howfat they are!" he beganweighing them. "You evencauterized thewoundswithalaser! What an excellentthought! This way the bloodgetsclottedandyoudon'tloseany! You're a bornexobiologist,man!"

Okay, so I wasn't. Iadmittedlyhadonly shotoneof them — the Founders'drones had slaughtered therest.ButIdidn'tlethiminonit.

"Fifteen hundred intotal,"hesummedup.

I didn't object. I reallyneeded the money. "Know aplacewhereIcouldgetsomeHaashmetabolites?"

He raised a puzzled

stare."Why?"I shrugged off his

question."You got to go to the

exosector.""Thanks.How do I get

there?""The first block to the

rightoftheelevators."I walked out and

headed there, connecting tothenetworkasIwalkedinthehope of finding out at least

somethingabouttheHaash.Nooneseemedtoknow

thatmuchthough.TheHaashseemedtohavearrivedoutofnowhere. I found a mentionofabattlebetweenaDargiancruiserandanunknownship.Thebattlehad takenplace inDarg's orbit at quite adistancefromthestation.TheDargians had shot theintruder down. The ship hadallegedly burned up on

entering the planet'satmosphere. Twenty-fourhours later, a group ofunknown fighter craft hadbeen sighted near Argos. Atfirst they were mistaken forPhantom Raiders which setoff a combined attack fromallofthestation'sforces.Theinvaderswerewipedout.Notashipfragmentwasleftoverfor examination. Andafterwards, about a dozen

creatures had respawned atthe station's resurrectionpoints. They calledthemselvestheHaash.

Not a word was saidabout what had happened tothemlater.

The exo sector wasnauseatingwithallthestenchand the samples in shopwindows. I'd done my fairshare of alchemy in the past— you just couldn't avoid it

in fantasy worlds— but thePhantomServer'sauthenticitylevels seriously messed withone's head. Pardon me forsaying so, but the sight ofvariousorgansfloatinginjarsandtheoffersofexococktailsmadetouniquerecipeswhileyou wait made my stomachchurn.

I found a shop thatlooked slightly morerespectable than most and

walkedin,lookingaround.A pretty young girl

greeted me, beaming withpleasureatseeingacustomer.Nosurprisethere.Oneglanceat the price tags made onerealize that every customerwasliterallyworthhisweightingold.

Nayri. Human. Level15.Exobiologist.

I got straight down tobusiness, ignoring her

inhuman charisma andbeauty. Inhuman being theright word: the girl's necksported tiny metal-cladsockets for exo injections.She wore them openly. Theair around her was poignantwith an amazing fragrance. Iwouldn't be surprised if itsbiochemical formula wasinfluencing me even as Ispoke.

"I need a Haash

metabolite.""Made from a Haash,"

sheclarified.Why was I constantly

cringing with disgust? Ineeded to get a grip. I, whoused to drink various elixirsbythebucketwithoutbattinganeyelid!

Thethoughtdidn'thelp.I clued her in. Nayri

gave me an understandingnod."It'struetheHaashhave

this ability.Theycan survivethe most extremeenvironmentwithouttheneedforsleepandonlyaminimumof food. Then they fall intohibernation."

"How long does it lastnormally?"

"We don't know yet.We'vehadverylittleresearchmaterial.But luckily,westillhave some metabolites leftover after some experiments

we conducted two yearsback," she added cheerfully."Thosearesomeveryspecialsamples.Here, takea lookatthepricelist."

I glanced at thenumbers.

AmetabolitecapableofcompletelyrestoringCharon'sdepleted energy cost ahundredandthirty-twogrand!

Nayri noticed myhesitation. "It works for

humans as well, increasingstrength ten times andallowing you to go withoutsleepforamonth.Peoplebuyit for emergencies such aslong-distance raids to theoutskirtsofthestarsystem."

Shepaused."Youknowwhat? I have acounterproposition for you.Why would you spend somuch money on drugs foryourHaash?Wecanbuyhim

offyou.""Are you soliciting

organharvesting?"Her mask of

helpfulness faded, revealingcontempt underneath."You'veonlybeenhereafewdays. There're lots of thingsyou don't understand yet.We'dhaveneversurvivedhadit not been for alienmetabolites. These days wehave life support systems in

place, allowing people tomakedowithoutthem.Butitwasn'talwayslikethis."

"I need to think aboutit."

***

Icamebacktomyhotel

room an hour later. Thingsweren't looking good. I'dbeenofferedtengrandforthefive "cyber ingredients" I'd

farmed. The two chips I'ddecidednottopartwithyet.Itwould have probably beenbettertoshowthemtoJurgenfirst. At least he'd be able totest them and advise me ontheprice.

IfIwantedtosurvive,Ihad to get the implants. AsSergehadsoinsightfullysaid,I'd be forever stuck at theshnoob stage. I had to bringCharon out of his coma

somehow, too. So basically,everywhereyouturneditwasall about money. I couldn'tseehow I could earn enoughbyfarmingthestation'sruins.It would take me all year todothat.

There was only onesolution to all this. Sell theship. I just couldn't see anyotheroption.

The roomwasdark, itsair thick with a sickly sweet

smell. Arbido was stillhunched behind his terminal.He wasn't shaking any more— in fact, he was so lost inthe network he hadn't evenacknowledgedmyarrival.

Whatever. I removedmy gear and collapsed ontothe bunk bed. Then Iconnected to the stationnetwork.

Afterallmyescapades,I was level 10. It was

decision-making time and I'dbettertakeitseriously.

Once again I perusedall the information regardingthe implants and not onlythem.ThistimeIalsoneededto know more about theircharacterclasses.

I ignored all thescientists, vendors,technologists, mechanics andengineers. This wasn't mything.

Which left me withthreespecializations.

Twoofwhichwere themost dangerous but also themost lucrative: technoarcheologist andxenobiologist.You could tellbytheirnamesthattheformersearched for the Founders'ancient technologies whilethe latter studied all sorts ofalienbeings.

Thearcheologybitwas

moreorlessclear.Thisstellarsystem had never beenproperly studied yet. Itsoutskirts (about thirtyastronomical units from thestation—that is, about threebillionmilesaway)werejam-packed with all sorts ofdrifting junk: asteroids,clouds of gas and dust,various debris left of ancientdisasters and mostimportantly, lots of artifacts

of the Founders' era. Gettingtherewas a job and a half. Icouldn't just jump onto myshipanddoaquickrunthereand back, filling its holdswith pricey techno artifacts.Itsfueltanksandlifesupportsystem justwouldn'tmake it.It meant I had to call up anexpeditionoraraidcompletewith a mothership, a convoyand several recon stations,plus a few mining facilities

whichluckilycouldbesetupanywhere, including dwarfplanets, their satellites andevenasteroids.

A lone player wouldnever be able to pull it off.Thiswasanichereservedforclans and corporations. I didfind amention of a group oflegendary pilots who raidedthe area in convertedfreightersbacked-upbysomeverypriceydrones—butthis

was more of an inspiringurbanlegendthanfact.

The players who choseto specialize in archeologynormally studied either thetwo nearest of the Founders'stations or the asteroid beltlocated two light minutesaway from Argus — a veryunhealthy practiceconsidering the area wasswarmingwithOutlaws.

The techno

archeologists leveled fourmainskills:PilotingofSmallSpacecraft, Repairs, AlienTechnologies and CombatSkills. In other words, theywere jacks of all trades andmasters of none. They couldpilot all kinds of ships, fixthem when necessary, takeover the enemy's defensesystems,mop up the landingzones and defend themselveswithweapons in their hands.

They were capable ofprocuring technical artifactsbutnotofstudyingthem.

TheExobiologistswereamuch tougher bunch. TheyleveledPilotingofSmallandMedium Spacecraft,Atmospheric Maneuvering,Science, Medicine,Exobiology and predictably,CombatSkills.

Compared to them,slave traders were cute. The

Phantom Server version ofexobiologists huntedxenomorphs and studiedthem, taking them apart andcreating bio implants,symbionts and various drugswith both temporary andpermanent characteristicbonuses.

This was one dirty jobinallrespects.WhenItriedtolookintoitfurther,Irealizedthat although bio implants

and symbiont creaturesoffered a number of uniqueabilities, they weren't crucialsurvival-wise. A goodmetabolic corrector and awise choice of gear couldprotect youmuch better thananyexocould.

The Pilots were thenextonmylist.

This was a dangerousprofession surrounded by anaura of romantic valor —

which however faded a lotonce you browsed throughtheraidreports.

I hadno idea that deepspace exploration— as wellas thehumans'survivalawayfromtheirhomesolarsystem— would obliterate theirethics and demand so muchblood.

ButIdigress.So, the Pilots.

UndoubtedlywithacapitalP.

They studied Piloting ofSmall and MediumSpacecraftaswellasalltypesofManeuvering andRepairs.Strength,StaminaandAgilityall maxed out. If a playerplanned to make a career ofit,heorshehadtoalso levelup Intellect and Willpowerwhichallowedyoutocontrolgroups of ships and studytactics, navigation andstrategicplanning.

Normally, pilots choseto disregard these vitalcharacteristics. As a result,they either got stuck in theirdevelopment or were forcedto risk implanting extrasymbionts and neuralnetworks.

Apart from thoseabove, there were plenty oflittle hybrid classes whoseadvantages were more thanquestionable. Badly

configured and slow to levelup, they made up, however,the bulk of the station'spopulation. I understood ofcourse how easy it was tooverindulge once you startedchecking all those talentbranches,butyoustillhad tolimit yourself somehow, forthis was a shortcut tomediocrity.

So what should Ichoose?

Without a doubt, Iwanted to be a pilot and atechno archeologist. I wouldlike to go on long-rangeexpeditions, discovering andcollecting the Founders'artifacts.

Which meant that mycurrentprioritieswere:

A SynapsZ mindexpander,aNeurusUniversalreflexenhanceranda top-of-the-range Xenus metabolic

implant. I would also needsome good armor andweapons, and also a Raptor-class ship. Unlike the fastCondors, this type of craftwas equipped with powerfulweapons and a capaciouscargoholdwhichwascrucialonlong-rangeraids.

It looked like I knewwhatIneedednow.

Next thing I had tocheck was my financial

situation.Arbido fidgeted in his

chair, still busy online. Istartedcounting.

The implants workedouttobeaboutthreehundredgrand. A Raptor, half amillion. Half-decent gear, ahundredgrand.PlusCharon'smetabolite. I hadn't decidedwhattodowithArbidoyet.

All in all, I needed amillion. Nothing more,

nothingless.I heaved a sigh.

Apparently, I'd have to riskauctioningtheHaashship.Itsstats placed it somewhere inbetween a Condor and aRaptor. Which meant thestarting price should besomewhere around fourhundred grand. Plus a fainthope that the ship's raritywould spark a lot of interestamidtop-levelpilots.

"Zander," Arbidoturned in his chair, shakinghisheadwithdisapproval.Hescrambleddownandpatteredtoward me. "Are you stupidorsomething?"

Islumpeddown,staringat him. "You've got a cheek!Soyou'vecomeround,then?"

"Sorry," his face fellbut immediately he lookedback up at me. "Don't youunderstandyou'rewalkingon

money?Why the fuckwouldyouwanttoselltheship?"

"Pardon me? Are youmonitoringmysearches?"

His face fell again. "Ionlywanttohelp,"hefinallyoffered.

"Doesthatmeanthere'snothing wrong with yourmemory?"

"No, it doesn't! Butyou're about to make somestupidmistakes."

"I'mtryingtofindsomewaystolevelmychar!Ineedto get some implants! I needto bring Charon out of hiscoma!And-"

"Zand, just listen tome!"hebegged.

"Goahead,then.What'syourbigplan?"

Arbido's businesshunchesrarelyprovedwrong.Once he set his sights on amoney-making opportunity,

he'dgoafteritwithapitbull'stenacity.

"I heard you talk toJurgenthismorning."

"And? What's that gottodowithit?"

"You're in possessionof some unexplored alientechnologies. Jurgen'smistaken about the ship'sorigins,isn'the?Isn'ttheshipHaashandnotDargian?"

"Sowhatifitis?"

"Howmanysubsystemsdoesithaveonboard?"

I shrugged. "Searchme."

"Have a look," Arbidowalked back to the terminal,activated a backupholographic screen andtransferred to it an offerposted by the Technologistsclan.

We offer 100,000

credits for the right to studyand copy any one of the yetunknown Founders' devices.The sample's integrity isguaranteed.

Weoffer50,000credits

for the right to study andcopy any one of the yetunknown alien devices. Thesample's integrity isguaranteed.

My jaw dropped. Talkabout business hunches. Ithadn't takenhimlong tosussthisoneout,hadit?

Now. I had to play itcool and think it over. Howmany subsystems would afighter ship like this have onboard? Had to be at least ahundred. What a shame Icouldn'taskCharon.

I glanced at Arbido."Welldone."

"I told you I might beuseful," he grumbled. "Noone has studied the Haashfightershipsbefore.IsuggestyoucontactJurgen.I'mprettysure he won't miss such anopportunity.Hehastorestorehis authority now, and alientechnologies are the mostvaluedthinghere.Jurgenwillearn their gratitude and you,money and some qualityimplants. Promise you won't

forgetaboutme,willyou?"Ifthetruthwereknown,

I felt a bit lost among allthese prospects. "What is ityouwant,then?"Icasthimasuspiciouslook.

"Tobeginwith, I'd likea room of my own," heglanced at Charon. "And I'dlike to get access to yourlogs."

"Why?""It's true that I really

can't remember how I gothere.SoI'mnotinahurrytogo back to real life. I don'tthink it's a good idea. So I'dlike to stick around you. Iwon't be able to survive onmyown."

"Whathavemylogsgottodowithit?"

"Didn't I tell you?Youwalkonmoneyandyoudon'tevennoticeit!Justthinkhowmuch anyone would be

prepared to pay for someinformation about anunexploredstation?Sopleaseallow me to work for you.You won't regret it, Ipromise."

I stood up and beganpacing the room. I had afunny feeling he hadn't toldmeeverything.

"You'llhavetoweartheslavecollar,"Isaid.

"Iknow."

"The locals won't belessxenophobic."

"I don't even count onthat.Butwithmoneyyoucanlive anywhere," he addedcynically.

Yes, this was my oldArbido. "Very well, then.Youmaystay.JustrememberI'llbekeepinganeyeonyou.Understood?"

He heaved a sigh. "IshouldgetonwithitifIwere

you,"hescrambledback intothe chair in front of theterminal. "Get to Jurgenbefore his enemies do. Thatwayyou'll help him andwillhave something to show forit."

Okay. The advice wasgood.IwentonlineandPM'dJurgen.

It took him some timeto answer. "What is it? Justkeep it short. What's the

problem?""I have a proposal for

you that youmight findhardtorefuse."

"Whatdoyoumean?""I mean alien

technologies. For about twoor threemillion in total. Areyouinterested?"

Arbido lookedtriumphant. Pleased as a piginshit.Hewasn'tshakinganymore.

"Waitup.I'mcoming."He didn't say much.

Still,Iwasdamnsurehewasinterested.

ChapterFive

PhantomServer.Tendayslater

IwasaPilot!Jurgen had proved true

to his word. The dealsuggested by Arbido hadworked fast. While I'd beenrecovering from progressiveimplantation, theTechnologistshadstudiedtheHaash ship and evenimproved it. Now the pilot'santigravity seat could easilytransform to accommodate ahumanbody.They'ddonethe

same to the navigationalcontrols, adding anothersegment to the controlcolumnswhichallowed themtofold,makingthemshorter.

The rest of the cockpitequipment was the same,apart from the addition of anew cyber module mountedbehind the pilot's seat. I wasthe only person who couldactivate it with my ownpersonal access code. This

additional subsystem adaptedthe scanners' data to humanperception.

Infact,thiswasnothingthatamindexpandercouldn'tdo. IthadbeenJurgenwho'dinsisted I invest in it.According to him, the firstsolo flights were also themostdangerous.Theslightestdelay in the data streaminterpretation or a glitch inmy mnemonic connection to

theshipcouldprovefatal.I just couldn't wait.

According to the statistics, ittook three to four months toturnanewbintoahalf-decentpilot but in my case, theprocesswouldbeaffectedbysome of the highest-endtechnologies.

TheFounders'neuronetthathadinvadedmybodyhadproduced a sensation amongresearchers. Had it not been

for Jurgen's putting hisauthoritative foot down, I'msure they'd have vivisectedme there and then. Luckily,we'd managed to come to acompromise. I agreed toparticipate in anotherdangerous experiment whichoffered theTechnologists theopportunity to study myunique nervous systemupgrade in action. In return,theyofferedtoinstallmewith

thelatestreflexenhancertypewhich hadn't yet been tested.Its main difference from theold ones was in that itsnanitescontainedprerecordedneurograms of a pilot'stypical reactions. That didn'tmakemeanaceofcoursebutendowed me with all thebasicreflexesnecessarytoflysmall craft. Whether I'd beable to use them, no onecould tell yet. The

Technologistswerecurioustosee the results of thisimpromptu field trial. If mymind proved up to thepressure assimilating thesenewskills, itcouldbecomearevolution inneurocybernetics andmnemotechnics, shooting theclantothetop.

The risk was great butso were the prospects itoffered.

Behind my back, thehatchslidshut.Iactivatedtheseat adjustment memory andslid into it. My heart wasfluttering. Immediately themetabolic implant kicked in,trying to curb my anxiety.But still the pressure of themomentwasalmosttoogreattobear.

The servomotorswhined, transforming thecontrols.Thearmrestsshifted

closer; the joysticks shrank,the seat's back changed itsrake angle. Feeders lashedaround, snaking out of theseat's base, then bit into thehelmet's sockets. Activationcodesflashedbeforemyeyes.

Andthen-A surge of information

floodedmybrain,crushingit,sweeping my consciousnessawaylikeatwig.

I lost all sense of

direction. The simulationtraininghadbeennothinglikeit.Myvisionblurred;awaveof heat rolled overmy body.My perception shifted. Thecockpit's outline distorted;then it thinned out anddisappeared in the cosmicvoid.

Ibrokeoutinafreezingcoldsweat.

I tried to find mybearings but immediately

suffered a fierce bout ofvertigo as if I were spunaround at an inhuman speed.Suddenly I couldn't breathe.Instinctively I tried to jumpup but my armored suit wasalready securely locked intothe seat. I couldn't focus.Everything around me keptflashing past, blurring intostreaks.

Enough!My inner scream

stopped the maddening spin.The streaks disappeared. Iwas enveloped by a graymist. Then a convex wallbegan looming up out of thehaze.Whatthehellwasthat?

Gradually I took in thedetailsofanewtechnoscape.I could see the docking padsand structures next to themfromaverydifferentangle.

Was this data from theexternalsensors?

TheshipandI,wewereoneinacybersymbiosis.Theship's hull had become myskin.

The mind shift wasshattering. The newsensationsthatahumanbeingsimply couldn't have weresurging throughmy brain. Asilent scream froze on mylips. Icouldfeel thereactor'sburning heat; I was awashwith space radiation. It was

happening too fast, waybeyond human adaptivitylevels. I was on the brink ofinsanity, losing my identityandpurpose.

The informationalpressure kept growing,surging through me,submergingme into the darkdepths of a mind beingreborn.

Thenitreceded.Thecockpithovedback

intoview.Thin holographic

screenscovered itswalls andceiling, forming my newdigital environment. Theirdeceptive depths held thedarkvoidofspace,showingacorner of the station and thepea-sizeddistantplanet.

Interface messagesglowed over them, thescreenscrowdedwith icons Icould move or activate

simplybyfocusingonthem.The mind expander

must have connected to myoptic nerve, using it as themain data communicationchannel.

My heart beat slowly.Thereactorglowednexttoit.Breathin.Breathout.Icouldfeel the joysticks' poroussubstance lumpywith triggerbuttons, sensing the controlsthrough the armored gloves

as another edge of alteredrealitywasopeninguptomymind.

I sensed myself nowhuman, now the ship. Thetwo identities weren't in ahurrytomerge.

Never mind. This wasonlythebeginning.

***

The ship was still

docked. I painstakinglystudied the interface, sortingthroughtheiconsandshiftingthem in an easily accessibleorder even though I had noideaoftheirpriorityyet.

The hours of drainingtension began to show someresults. I had preserved mysanity. I was more or lesscomfortable now switchingbetween the variousperception modes. It felt so

weird to sense the station'sdockingclampsholdingontoyou.

Noonewasrushingmeortryingtointervene.Iknewthat the Technologists' topmnemotechs were busy nowmonitoring the process,adjusting certain details as Iwent, helping meinconspicuously. For themthiswasawealthofpricelessexperience. The dawn of a

newday.Once again I'd found

myself at the cutting edge ofprogress. The risks wereenormous,butwasIsupposedto lag behind? Now I couldunderstand why the OutlawswiththeirneuralAIsweresosuperiortoregularpilots.Butthiswasnothingcomparedtowhat was yet to come. I'dalready been warned thatevery impact hitting the ship

wouldhurtme.Theshipwouldreactto

my instincts, the hybridperception making us as oneforthedurationofthesortie.

Iseemedtobeallright.Allthestressandanxietywasover. I was hungry as hell.Did that mean that themetabolic implant hadalready drained its ownbatteries trying to help meovercome the shock andwas

now syphoning energy frommyownbody?

I'd had enough fortoday, sure. Still I couldn'tstop.

Ineededtofeelit."Argus? This is 2017.

Request permission tolaunch."

There were loads ofshipsbustlingaround.BeforeI could commenceaccelerating, I needed their

coursedata."2017,launchclearance

granted. Commencingcountdown. You have oneintersecting course, aStighawkfreighteratazimuth30,declination18."

I could see it already.My mind had received andprocessedthedata.

The power field beganto fade. The airwas pumpedout of the docking pod. The

power feed clampsreverberated, unlocking.Dozens of pipes and cablesdisconnected themselvesfromthehull.Icouldfeelit!

"2017, prepare forlaunch."

The countdown nearedzero. The electromagneticcatapult shot me into thevoid.

I just can't describe theentire scope and novelty of

the feeling. The accelerationforcedmeintotheseatasthestation plunged out of view.Thebrightdotofthefreighteron the intersecting coursegrew rapidly, gaining shape.Maneuveringthrusters,Idovedeeper,flyingatafivedegreeinclination regarding theecliptic plane. We passedeach other within a hair'sbreadth.

This was mind-

blowing. I knew that mymaneuver must have lookedclumsy and amateurish butstill it filled me with someecstatic, boundless freedom.Everything I'd everexperiencedbeforehadfadedinto insignificance next tothis, shrinking into bleakshadowsinmymemory.

The initial launch hadgiven the ship enoughmomentumtocontinueonits

way. Mentally I switchedfrom one hemisphere to theother. Now I could see thestation. I commenced themaneuver, watching thethrusters spew cloudy jets ofgas from the starboard side.The stellar view shiftedunhurriedly. Once I had thestation in my crosshairs, Iactivated the compensatingthruster.

Iwasgoingback!

Thiswasway too slowand fluent for combatmaneuvering. Then again, Ihadn't got used to the shipyet. My perception came injerks: too powerful onemoment,tooweakthenext.Iknewthat theslightest twitchof my hands, the slightestpressure ofmy fingers couldcause the course to change. Itriedtosteeritalittlemoretocircumnavigate Argus and

immediatelywentintoaspin.Inthesplitsecondthatittookthe autopilot to correct mymistake, my blood ran cold.Had I been maneuvering inthethickofashipformation,or evenworse, caught in thewhirlwind of battle, theconsequences would havebeenunimaginable.

Gingerly I leveled upthe course. I was woefullyunready for any close-range

maneuvering.I pulled myself

together.Sixty seconds since

launch. I sent a dockingrequest and located thelanding beam. The stationloomed back into view, thedockingpad speeding towardme.Myvisionblurred.

Thenreflexeskickedin.I expertly manipulated

the controls. The ship turned

aft to the station. Thrustsbegan to pulsate.Acceleration forced me intothe seat. Speed control.Thrust.

The station was withinthreehundredfeet.Slowlytheship drifted toward the pad,bankingslightlyasitentered.I felt the magnetic damperskick in. A dull thump. Theship vibrated as the clampsgrappledit.

Ninety seconds sincelaunch.

It felt like a lifetime,birthuntildeath.

Thetensionwouldn'tletgo.Thehairundermyhelmetwere dripping with sweat. Iwasecstatic.

Iwas in game. Iwas apilot!

***

The station's livingquarterswerenothinglikeallthose"hotel"rooms.

It was a fully restoredand functional area adjacentto theMarketDeck to houselone players unaffiliated toanyoftheclans,mainlypilotsandwell-to-dovendors.

Mymoduleconsistedofa lounge with three doors.NowbothArbidoandCharonhad a room each to

themselves.Arbido had wangled a

few screenshots of theDargian station out of meplusacoupleoflogs.Nowhewas very secretive, spendingall his time online preparingsome sort of economicmiracle.

I was still euphoricafter my first sortie. ThemomentIremovedmygear,IhurriedovertoseeCharon.

He was graduallycoming back to life. He wasstill very weak after we'dpulled him out of hishibernation with themetabolites I'd bought. Hecould barely move andcouldn't think straight. Still,he reacted to my arrival byopening his eyes and turninghishead.

"Zander...""Hi,man."

"I've been followingyour test run," he lookedpleasedwithmysuccess.

I perched on the bednext tohim. "The ship is toogoodforwords."

He stared at me,cocking his head to one sideand growling pensivelywithout noticing it. "Whenare you going to keep yourpromise? We are going toliberate the Haash, aren't

we?""Absolutely. But it

mighttakeabitoftime.""Why?""You're too weak still.

And I need to practice somemore."

"I'm much betteralready!"

"Charon,we'regoingtoset them all free, trust me.Andwe'llbeatthecrapoutoftheDargians,Iswear.Butit's

not going to be easy. We'llneed to call up a raid. It'lltakemoney.Andalotofit."

His eyes glistenedunkindly. Holding onto thewall,hescrambledtohisfeet.

"Where do you thinkyou're going? You have tostayinbed!"

"I'm going to talk toArbido," Charon wasdefinitelyinadecisivemood."He knows how to make

money."Ididn'tsayanything.If

hecouldbefriendArbido,thatwould be excellent. Besides,we really had to get the restof the Haash out. That wentwithoutsaying.ButnomatterhowbadlyCharonwanted it,putting a raid together couldtakesometime.

We had to thinkeverything over and findsome people we could trust.

We wouldn't pull it off thetwo of us, even if wemanagedtobuyanothership.

***

For two weeks already

I'd been practicing combatmaneuvers.

The Technologists clankeptreceivingtheirdatafromme. The implants workedwithout fail, growing more

dependable with everypassing day as they keptmergingwithmynervousandmetabolicsystems.

Today I was supposedto practice with five dummydrones. It had takenmea lotof arguing with Charon andconsulting with themechanics,butfinallyI'dhadtheweaponsupgraded.Apartfromthelasers,Ihadananti-fighter turret and two EMPs.

I'd had to order anotherbatterypackandsomeammostorage modules but in theend it was worth it. I'dalready had the chance tofully appreciate kineticweapons. In close-rangecombat against well-armoredtargets protected by powerfields they wereindispensable.

More experiencedpilots cast funny looks my

way. They didn't seem toagree. I could understandthat:theyhadalreadybecomeone with their ships,unwilling to introduce anychanges. A newb alwaysplaysasmartassuntilhisfirstsortie.

I wasn't listening tothem, though. I just hopedthatmyfreshapproachtotheweapon layoutmight help usallsurviveatalaterdate.

Now the drone wasbanking this way and that,doing some complexaerobaticstryingtothrowmeoff its tail. A tiny, agiletarget. I had special traininggenerators installed on all ofmy weapons to make sure Ididn'tdestroymytargets.Thedrones were too expensive.Simulating the killwasmorethanenough.

Icaught it inmysights

as it completed yet anothermaneuver and unloaded mylasers into it. Four piercingbeams made the target'spower field shimmer.Normally this was apreparativemeasureaimedatbringing the shields down.Simple, really: no reactor inthe world was capable ofkeeping shield batteriescharged for the duration of acombat. The shields were

obliged to losepower—andthen, suffering constantpressure, they would depletetheir charge and wouldmomentarilygodown.

I still remembered myexperiments with my ShieldBelt (I was never without itthesedays).

Let's see now. Thedrone in front of me wasdesperately banking thiswayand that. I fired brief

preemptive bursts of mypulseguns.

Gothim!Themissilesthatwould

have normally evaporatedwith the fully-charged powerfield impact now went rightthrough theweakened shield,white-hot,hittingthedrone.

The target wasn'tdestroyedbutitwasseriouslydamaged. The impactsscorched thedrone'shull and

its sensors. Now itsmaneuverability wasseriously limited as both aftand starboard thrusters werecrippled.Asa result, itsverynextmaneuversentthedroneintoaspin.

I stepped on it,shortening the distance andkeeping the target within theattack cone. Two lasers kepthitting it non-stop until theshielddroppedto10%.Afew

moreburstsofthepulseguns.Donehim!

Combatduration:sevenseconds?

This was unbelievable.Normally, a combat betweentwoequal fighters lasted fiveminutesatleast.Firstyouhadtoremovetheenemy'sshieldsdeprivinghimofpower, theneither chase the desperatelyfleeing target or catch thebanking ship in your sights

and then shoot it down. Iwasn'tinahurrytomakemylogspublic.Ihadafewthingsto analyze first. In a real-lifecombat it might have takeneven less time. If its purposeis survival and not somegrudge you have, you don'tneed to finish your enemyoff.Justdamaginghisshipisenough, forcing him out ofthe picture, especially whenthere is a considerable

disparityofpower.Most pilots weren't

going to like it. Thiswas noteamwork in any shape orform. They didn't like to letthedamagedshipsgo,either.But at the moment, I wassimply trying to sussout thisnew weapon setup and itspotential. Just practicingsome skills I might need inthe future. I already knewenough about the Phantom

Servertorealizethatwhoeverwantedtomakeitherehadtothinkoutofthebox.

A sensation of dangerswept overmebefore the aftsensors kicked in. Twodrones were coming up mybackside.

Ibanked,strafingoutoftheir line of fire, andperformedapylonturnfacingthe enemy, my fighterpreserving its momentum

flyingaftfirst.I shot the first one

down straight away in onepowerfulcombinedvolley.

Its wingman was tooclosetoitsleader;itnowhadto swerve trying to avoid allthe debris, thus giving me afewprecioussecondsextra.

It began to spin in anever-wideningspiral,heading"forward" in regards to theecliptic.Ichasedafterit.

I was getting betterevery time. I knewof coursethat a dronewas a drone. I'dno idea how long I'd lastconfronted with a properfighterpilot.Butthiswasyetto come. I still had anothercouple of weeks to practicemy reflexes and reaction,improvingmypilotskills.

***

Twice the droneescaped the attack cone. Ithad lured me about twentythousand miles above theecliptic planebefore I finallyshotitdown.

Now I had to get thedroneback.Itwasn'tgoingtobe easy but this was a veryusefulskillforafighterpilot.Howelsewereyousupposedtocollectlootinouterspace?

The Haash ships

consisted of three modules.Thisdiagrammightgiveyousome idea of how theylooked:

)II(

Thecockpitwaslocatedinthecenterofthecraft.Thetwoside sectionscarried twoautonomous reactors and theweaponmodules.Afterallthe

improvements I'd introducedto midships, it also held thepulse guns, their acceleratorssecurely armored. Theweaponmodulesdidn'taffectthe ship's aerodynamicswhich allowed it to enter theatmosphereifnecessary.

The small cargo holdswere located at the back ofthe side sections, next to thetowing beam generators. Myobjectivenowwastograbthe

dronewith the towing beam,then switch off the powershield momentarily whileopening one of the afthatches.

This was something Ihadn't quite mastered yet. Idid everything by the bookbut it took me five to sevenseconds to land the capturedshipinthehold.Youcouldn'tafford this kind of time incombat. They'd shoot me

down before I knew it. I'dseenprofessionalpilotsdoit:they just sped past theirquarry, grabbing it with thebeam and went on fighting,switchingmomentarilytheaftpower field emitters,showering the enemy withfirewhilestuffingtheirholdswithloot.

Istillhadalottogrow.Sixseconds.Toolong.Ihadtotryto

do it at full speed. Theproblemwas,theHaashship'spower shield wasn't dividedup. This was a seriousdrawback. I had to installmore power field emitters toenable me to divide thedefense between the twohemispheres so that I couldredistribute the power whennecessary.

I opened the holds andsetthedronesfree.

I had another hour ofpractice left.This time Iwasgoing to practice attacking alarge ship. I had two protontorpedoes slung on theirmountings: it wasn't yetviable to install launchingtubes. I didn't have guidancesystems, either, butconsidering the sheer powerof the proton charges theyweren'tstrictlynecessary.

The five drones linked

up,dockingontoeachother.Aholographicimageof

a large military freighterlumberedontothescreens—very decently armed andequipped with ten-megawattshields.Both the sensors andmy own field of vision(which was spherical nowwith the implants I'dreceived) generated andregistered the craft'ssignature.

My objective was todisable the shields using thefirsttorpedowhiledrivingtheother one into the ship'senginecompartment.Theresthad to go according to plan.To assault an immobilizedship,youfirsthadtonukeitsspace weapon defensesystems.

Iapproachedthetarget.Thetorpedoessittingin

their mountings were real.

But this time I was going tolaunch their holographiccopies. It would be stupidwasting expensive ammo fortraining'ssake.

The "freighter" hadnoticed me and activated itslaser turrets while trying tomaneuver out of my sights.While analyzing itstrajectory, I locked on to it,simultaneously controllingtheareaaroundit.

My dedicated practicelocationwasquiteneartothestation. And still I shouldn'tforget that the Outlaws'territory was a mere twentylight seconds away. At anymoment, real danger couldcome from that direction.Whichwaswhyevenpracticesorties always demanded afull load of ammo and acompletebatterycharge.

Most asteroids you

couldn't even see: theymerged with the darkness ofspace. Only occasionallycould you notice tiny littlesparks as the light of thesystem's star playedwith theblocksofice.

The virtual "freighter"changed course sharply,trying to avoid the attackcone. I beat him to it. Theproton torpedoes were readyfor action. Everything was

undercontrol.An alarm beeped.

Staying on course, I quicklyscannedmysphereofvision.

Some strangesignatures had appeared inthe asteroid belt area. Thenaked eye couldn't havespotted anything out of theordinary but my mind wasnow short-wired to the ship'ssensors, allowing me tonotice even a barely visible

shimmer.The drones continued

on their maneuver. Icontacted them, orderingthem to heave to. No morepractice for me today. I wastoocurious.

I killed the speed andactivated all the monitoringsystems. I also switched oncamo mode and maxed outtheshieldsjustincase.

Below me to my right

floated the ancient starships,Leviathansof theuniverseorrather, only their enormousempty shells gaping withimpactdamage.TheDargianshad long stripped them ofanything that was worthsalvaging. Argus craftersused to frequent them for awhile cutting out wholesections of their cargonitearmor, but the Outlaws'forayshadquicklyputanend

tothispractice.A cluster of debris

floated nearby — with theTitan, the corporation'sflagship, at its center. SomedistanceawayIcouldseethesilent procession of the deadcryogenic platforms andremains of the colonialfreighters. Hundreds ofDargian ships destroyed inthe epic battle circled them,makinganouterframeofthis

mammothtechnograveyard.This areawas an arena

ofregularskirmishesbetweentheOutlawsandArguspilots.About a year ago, theEngineers' clan hadmanagedto unearth, amid all thedebris, two relatively well-preserved Founders' frigateswhich were now beingrestoredatthestation.

The shimmering spotsI'd noticed were getting

brighter.Whatwasgoingon?Ichangedthescanners'focus.

It was a gas and dustcloud.

Now where could ithave come from? Idownloaded all the data onthisparticularlocation.Therewas no record of it beingtherebefore.

The first thing thatjumped tomymindwas thatit had probably been formed

by thecollisionof two largerasteroids.Inwhichcase,whyhadn't I noticed the impactitself? None of theinstruments seemed to haveregisteredit,either.

Thiswastrulyweird.Itwas as if a good dozenasteroids rich in metals hadbeen suddenly dispersed,their atoms losing their bondwith each other forming acold nebula in a matter of

seconds.At least that'swhat the

ship's sensors were trying tosuggest. But I knew that inorder to blow thesegargantuan boulders to dustyouneededindecentamountsofenergy.

Had I just witnessedone of the Founders' yetunknown technologies beingusedbytheOutlaws?

If so, what was its

purpose?Zander,getreal.Thisis

agameworld. Its developerscanmakeanythingpossible.

True.Myinitialanxietysubsided, replaced by acutecuriosity.

In the meantime, thecloud began forminghundreds of swirling patternsas matter started clusteringtogether.Iwatched,unabletotake my eyes off its

mysterious metamorphosis,whenIstartedtorealize:eachof the hundreds of clusterswas gaining shape andstructure.

I focused on the onenearesttome.Theskinontheback of my head began toprickle as I looked at thetranslucent opaque outline ofamaterializingspaceship.

APhantomRaider?Images from the

promptly downloadeddatabases flashed before myeyes.Ihadnodoubtleft.ThiswasaheavyPhantomRaider.

***

Therewerehundredsof

them.The ships materialized

swiftly.Knowing theRaiderscouldn't intercept the lasercommunications system, I

quickly sent word down. Ijust hoped they wouldn'tnotice me. This promptwarning could save hundredsifnotthousandsoflives.

It looked like I waswitnesstosomemajorglobaleventinthemaking.

I felt uncomfortable.FromwhatI'dheard,themostthattheArguspilotshadeverhadtodealwithwereaboutadozen Raiders which was

consideredalargebattle.The swirls of

materializing starshipsweren't opaque any longer.Twohundredandfiftyheavyraidersexited thecloudallatonce, accelerating in synchand falling into formation,docking together creating acomplex spatial structure oftwenty-five ships clusteredtogether to shape a spherewith three long sickle-like

"wings", each of themcomprised of seventy-fiveRaiders.

Where were the Arguspilots, dammit? What wastakingthemsolong?

ThePhantomformationconverged on the station andbegan rotating, each of theshipsfiringitsheavylasers.

The laser beams turnedinto a wall of fire that knewno obstacle along its path.

Theenergychargessankintothe station's hull, striking upfires, then slid along, rippingthrough it, blowing up theoutsidefixtures,scorchingthedocking pads and slicingthroughcablesandpipework,leaving nothing but fissuresbreathingfireintheirwake.

The freighters en routetothedocksbegantoscatter.Some even attempted toattack the slowly rotating

Phantom formation but wereimmediately destroyed byreturnfire.

Instinctively graspingthe enemy's potential, Ishuddered realizing that thestationwasdoomed.Nothingor nobody could delay itsundoing. A few occasionaland uncoordinated fighterlaunches would changenothing. Soon the station'shullwouldcollapse,startinga

chain reaction ofdecompressioninalltheouterlayerofmodules.

Therewas noway youcould stop the PhantomRaiders. I'd only just startedto integrate into this newworldandnowitwascomingcrashing down around myears!

Why hadn't Argusheeded my warning? Whathadtheybeenwaitingfor?I'd

giventhepilotsplentyoftimetogettotheirshipsand-

Suddenly the stationrotatedfaster. Iglimpsedoneof the ancient transporttunnels that both theMechanicsandEngineershadbeentoilinginallthistime.

In all honesty, Icouldn'tunderstandwhy theywould want to restore someuseless service tunnels. Thenext moment, it all clicked

intoplace.The mouth of the

restored magnetic hubpointed directly at the centerof theRaiders' formation. Itsring accelerators, freshlyrenovated and modernized,gleamed intensely. Thestation's correction engineskicked in, stopping itsrotation.

I would never havethought the Engineers would

have turned a transportchannelintoaweapon!

The station shuddered,losing its orbit parameters.Five juggernaut steel slugs,each weighing hundreds oftons, accelerated to anunthinkable speed, shootingout of the makeshiftelectromagnetic cannon andhitting theRaiders' formationheadon.

The first impact

destroyed their inner controlsphere. The second and thirdonesgrazedthesickle-shapedwings, plasmifying aboutthirty enemy ships. Theremaining rounds overshottheirtarget.

The enemy's laserbeams faded. The spatialformation of the hundreds ofships was now falling apart.Some of the craft collided,filling space with clouds of

debris.Not a singlePhantomRaiderhadhad thechance toself-destruct, so sudden andshattering was the station'sresponse.

***

Iwasstillinshockfrom

these rapid developmentswhen the station resumed itsunhurried rotation, engagingitsspacedefensesystems.

Argus had withstoodthe first strike. I could stillsee cloudy jets ofdecompression everywherebutat least thestationwasinone piece.We'd repulsed thesurpriseattack.Thesurvivinglaunching pads beganflashing, propelling hundredsoffightersintospace.

Theyshotdownaboutadozen of the nearest alienships, disabled and

disoriented,signalingthestartofamassivespacebattle.

It wasn't a pretty sight.The enemy chose not torestore their formation;instead, they headed towardour Condors in ones andtwos. Heavily armored,Phantom Raiders with theirten-megawatt shields were aforcetobereckonedwith.

A battle broke out.Laser beams strobed in all

directions, criss-crossing,fading and blazing again.Tracers of missilespunctuated the dark. Amultitude of thrusters burnedbright as the ships banked,circledandzigzaggedthroughspace, chasing down theirtargets. Power fields pulsedas many a ship erupted inblindingflames.

The two armadaspassed through each other.

Only two thirds of our pilotsmade it through thePhantomRaiders'looseranks.

Immediately the battledisintegrated, breaking upinto countless skirmishesswirling through space likewheels of fire. The station'sguns began engaging sectionby section, firing volleys atseparate targets while tryingnottohitourownships.

The Phantom Raiders

were a cut about the stationdefenders. They were betterarmed and protected, andtheirmaneuverabilitylaywaybeyond human endurance.Even when ducking ourespecially daring assaults,theystillmanagedtofiretheirheavy lasers at a turret or adocking pad they'd barelyglimpsed in their sights.They'd then bank avoiding ahead-on, shaking off the

pursuit inaseriesof intricatemaneuvers amid the station'souter structures beforeresuming their attackingcourses.

The battle lay belowme.Ittookmetenseconds—fifteen at the most — toanalyze the situation. I'm notjoking. Between the mindexpander, the metabolicimplant and the Founders'neuronet I hosted, they must

have unlocked a new heightinmythinkingandperceptionlevels. Faced with anemergency,mybrain seemedto work in a different waysomehow. I might end upregretting it later but at themoment, I was able toinstantly grasp and evaluatetheentirepicture.

The Phantom Raidersweretryingtoforcetheirowntactics onto the station

defenders, surreptitiouslytrying to get closer to thesectionswheredefenseswerealready down. I could hearthe station's yet undamagedgunsfallsilentastheyhadnotargets left in their fields offire. Tails of swirling debrismarked the enemy's rapidprogression. Our pilots intheir Condors and Raptorsmust have realized that theywere being pinned down to

the station— but the enemykept them engaged to makesuretheycouldn'tdomuch.

The ball of fire keptshrinking, the ships'maneuvers growing brieferandfaster.Iwatchedasmoreand more human shipsexploded, destroyed, in thechaos of decompressiondischargeswhichclouded thestation's molten outerstructures. I could see the

whole picture — but theotherscouldn't.Eachwastoobusy with his or her owntarget, the station's raggedoutline hindering their fieldsof vision while the swirlingwheel of fire was alreadyuponthestation.

Thetwoancientfrigatesrestored by the Engineers'clanwere still sitting in theirhangars, crewless. Thestation'sfactionshadfailedto

come to an agreementregarding their use so nowthey were useless — at theexact moment when theywereneededthemost.

I knew of course thataloneIwouldn'tlastaminuteagainst a Raider. Still, Icouldn't remain a passiveonlooker.

I accelerated,simultaneously sendingcommands to the drones

while switching the mindexpandertobroadcastitsdatato the station network,sharing my vision of thesituationwitheveryoneelse.Isaw a Condor followed by atrailofincandescentgasfromits damaged reactor's coolingsystem.Thepilotpersistentlybanked, trying to shake twoRaiders off his tail. I caughtoneoftheminmysightsandappraised its signature. Its

shields were barelyglimmeringattwomegawattsatmost.

My drones flew oneither side and at my rear,formingfalsetargets.

The distance betweenus kept steadily shrinking. Iswitched my four lasers tocontinuous fire mode andblazed away. The Raider'sshields collapsed. Yes! Twotracerssankintoitsbodyjust

above the engines, at theexact spot marked by mytargetindicatorasvulnerable.A ball of fire welled upstraight ahead. I banked justintimetoavoidallthedebriswhile noticing the fiery gastrail again as the downedCondorwastryingtohightailitawayfromthestation.Ifellin behind him, hurriedlyscanningbothhemispheresinsearch for the other Raider.

Wherewashenow?He's behind me!

Closing in, shooting downtwodronesintheprocess.

I threw the shipsideways into a wideningspiral.Predictable,Iknew—butsodidtheRaider.

All the drones weredowned.Ascanningwaveofradiationsurgedovermyship— Iwas in the crosshairs. Itfelt akin to skin tingling. I

went into a hook turn. Toolate.

The raider closed in. Icouldseethefrontalslopesofthe ship's armor, completewith its laser gun ports: theheavy one in themiddle andsix medium ones in slopingnacelles on both its sides. Ifired everything I had. Histen-meg shield caved in butonly slightly, swallowing upthe damage. Too late to

swerveoutofitsway.A missile soared

overhead,hittingtheshieldina flash. Then another. TheRaider's shield was now inthe red zone.A thirdmissileturneditintoaballoffire.

I swung round, forcingthe engines into overdrive,maxing out theGs as I triedto scramble as far away as Icould from the PhantomRaider's possible self-

destructionzone."2017, follow me," I

heard as the Condor flewpast,stillfollowedbyitsfierytrail. The pilot must havestabilized the reactor if hethought he could rejoin thebattle.

I scanned his number.Liori! The merc girl I'd metearlier!

I mirrored hermaneuver. Now both of us

were moving away from thestation, restoring our shieldsand reloading our weapons.Wethenbothturnedroundtofacethebattle.

They'd received mymessage. The survivingstationdefenders fought theirway out from under fire andrepeated our maneuver,moving away to allow thedefense systems to do theirjob.

Shit. So few of us left.90 ships, the subsystemsreportedimpassively.

The Raiders were ahundred and fifty. They splitinto several groups ofdifferentsizesmostofwhomhadswitchedtoassaultmode,theirheavy lasers ripping thestation's armor open andwreakinghavocontheirway,leavingnothingintheirwakebut mangled heaps of metal

andcloudsofdecompression.All the others came straightforusall.

"Zander, keep rightbehind me," Liori's voicerang through my thoughts."I'll disable the shields andgetout,thenhe'sallyours!"

"Gotit!"She attacked —

seemingly head-on, strafingfromside to side toduck theconstant laser beams that

barelygrazedher shield.Shewasonehellofapilot. Istillhada lotof learning todo tobeabletomaneuverlikethat.

She slid past mere feetfrom the Raider. Both theirshields billowed out,destroying each other. TheRaider swung round,exposingitsaft.

Fat tracers rippedthrough its armored hull,spewing fire. I banked away.

The Raider sped up, maxingoutitsGs.

In a blinding flash, itself-destructed.

I scanned bothhemispheres.

The numbers of thestation defenders keptdwindling. The battlecontinued with mixedsuccess. We'd kicked theRaiders' ass good and properbut the station was a sorry

sight.Enormousgapingholeswere framedwith sectionsofdecks forced outside byinternal explosions; mangleddocking pads drifted incloudsofgasandicecrystals;debris floated everywhereyouturned.

I found Liori andmovedclosertoher.

We couldn't changeanything anymore. Noamount of valor or piloting

skill could make anydifference.Ifitcontinuedlikethis, the station would soonbegintofallapart.

We rejoined the battle.This time we chose a groupofRaiderscovetingoneofthehangars. I still had the twoproton torpedoeswithremotecontrolled explosive devices,so we changed our tactics. Itook the lead and fired both,thenwaiteduntil theywerea

merethreehundredfeetawayfromtheRaiders.ThenIsenta mentally activatedcommand.

Two blindingly brightspheres of transparent bluescorched and seared thestation'shull,deactivatingtheenemies' shields. Lioriovertook me and shot downtwo of the enemy ships. Thenearest pilots joined in theassault. Together we ripped

theRaidersgroupapart.Onlya few managed to flee thesceneleavingtheirfierytrailsofincandescentgasbehind.

Thiswasn't victoryyet,not by far. The remainingRaiders — about a hundredstill— turned their attentionawayfromthestationinordertogetridofusfirst.

***

The battle endedunexpectedly.

The Founders' frigate,fire-damaged but stillfunctional, powered up itsengines and exited itsdockinghangar.

My earphones vibratedwith triumphant cheers. Wewatched as the other frigateleft its berth. Messagesflooded the networkwith thesensational news: apparently,

the Pilots' clan had seizedboth ships. The Engineerswere furious but we, wecelebrated.

Beams of stationarylasersslicedthroughthedark.The frigates' plasmagenerators and heavy pulsegunsfiredinautomaticmode.In a matter of minutes, thePhantomRaidershadlosthalftheir force. The survivingones left us well alone and

charged onto the Founders'frigates.

LioriturnedherCondortoward the nearest dockingpad that still seemed intact.Thegapsinherdamagedhullstreakedcrimson.

"Getin,I'llcoveryou!""Thanks,Zander!"My reactor went into

overload. My ship's batterieswereempty,theammostocksdepleted. My emotions went

into an overdrive. I couldn'teven tell the number ofRaiders I'd shot down —three for sure and possiblytwo more. I'd have to checkthelogs.

Molten scars werecooling down on my ship'shull. There were several airleaks — nothing important.Once I was back in dock,they'dquicklypatchmeup.

Liori docked. Her

Condor disappeared in thehazeofthepowerfield.

JustabouttimeIdidthesame. The two frigates,already much the worse forwear, were commencing atwin assault maneuver,accelerating in pursuit of asmall group of PhantomRaidersthatattemptedtofleethescene.

End of story. Thenearest docking pad was

mine.I turned around,

glimpsing a few groups ofsmall ships almostoutof thescanner's range. Signatures:unidentified. They flashedpast, disappearing in thedirection of the station'suninhabited sectors whichwere crammed full of oldbreach holes, allowinganyonetogetonboard.

Outlaws?

In all honesty, I hadmoreimportantthingstodo.Ihad to weave my way amidmangled steel beams, deaddeformedshipsandenormouschunks of the station's hullwhichrotatedslowlypast.

I struggled to steer theship into the pad. Only nowdid I realize how this briefmeleehaddrainedme.

My hands wereshaking. My state of fatigue

was deafening. Iwas hungryashell.Itlookedlikeboththereflexenhancerandmetaboliccorrector had simply burnedmeout.

I spent a few minutesjust sitting there listening toall the messages, trying topiece together the wholepicture. My mind refused toaccept the scope of theselatestdevelopments.

I unbuckled and stood

up, keeping the helmet on. Ihad no idea if therewas anybreathableairleftinside.

I contactedCharon andArbido. They were besidethemselveswithworry.

I had survived. I'dsurvivedmyfirstrealmelee!

At that, my emotionsdied on me. Fatigueenveloped my body. I couldbarely shift my feet. Thecorridorwas airless.Luckily,

theelevatorsstillworked.Wish I could say the

sameaboutthestation.Itwasagonizing.

Everywhere you turnedyou saw fire and impactdamagetintedbythecrimsonemergency lighting. Thestationwasdying.Judgingbythe messages, a few Raidershad managed to flee,disappearing into theasteroidbelt. The two Founders'

frigateshijackedbythePilots'clan weren't in a hurry todock, taking up defensivepositions some two lightseconds away from thecrippledstation.

***

Events kept unfolding

— rapidly, dramatically andirreversibly.

I finallymade it to the

personnel deck and clearedthe airlock. They still hadatmosphere in there, eventhough the lights keptflickering. I could sensefrequentvibrations.

TheroomIwasrentinghad its own airlock. It tooseemed to be sealed —undamaged.Weweresafeforthe time being. Still, myanxietykeptgrowing.

I entered the airlock

and activated the emergencylockingprotocols.

The inner hatch slidaside. Charon's lanky figurehurried toward me. He gavemeahug,peeringthroughmyvisor.

"I'mfine,"Islappedhisshoulder."I'vemadeitback."

I collapsed into themassive chair which alonewascapableofsupportingtheweight of my armor. Arbido

shifted from one foot to theother nearby.He lookedpaleandanxious.Ibet!Theworldwas coming down about hisearsandhedidn'tevenhaveaspacesuithissize.Howcouldwe have known thatsomething like this wouldevenhappen?

"Cool down,man.Youcanwearmy old gear in themeantime. It's a bit big foryou but that's the way it is.

Charon, can you help him?Youtoowillneedtosuitup."

The station wasshattered by secondaryexplosions. Itwas in turmoil.Losses were mind-boggling.The Pilots clan had lost halftheir craft. Their authoritywas on the rise but theirstrength had been seriouslydepleted. The Top100 listkeptupdating:thirty-sevenofthebestpilotshadn'treturned

to base. Fifty morepersonalities of considerableweight and power haddisappeared duringdecompression. Their fatewasunknown.

The network was inchaos. There were no saferespawnpointsleft.FoundersSquare was overtaken byvacuum,radiationandcosmictemperatures. Same appliedto the whole of the Market

Deck. The survivors fearednew attacks, this time fromthe Dargians, Wearongs, theKamreshandtheOutlaws.

Everyone alreadyblamed both the Mechanicsand the Engineers for thechainofsecondaryexplosionswhich continued to destroythestation.Theyintheirturndidn'tbothertoqualifyitwithananswer,explainingitawaybytheageoftheequipment.

The station's economyhad collapsed. Groups oflooters were sighted on theMarket Deck. Thecorporations had called offtheir drones to protect theirown property. This was newto me. Apparently, all law-enforcement mechanismsbelongedtothecorporations.

This had turned out tobeaneventandahalf.

There was no water.

The lighting panels werebarely glowing. The airregenerators were still inworking order but how longwould their accumulatorslast?

I was at a loss. Andangry. I tried to put myselfinto the Admins' anddevelopers' shoes. Whywould they need such adisaster?Hadtheplayershadthe choice of ten stations

protected by a squadron ofNPC-flown craft, I couldunderstand. But they'd justdestroyed their entire gameworld! Had they decided toplay God or something? Orhad they destroyed thelocation the way a spoiledchild crumples a faileddrawing? Well, give us achance, then! Offer us analternative!

SomehowIdidn't think

that anyone would like agame dominated by otherraces dooming humans to amiserable existence. But itwas certainly heading thatway. The Mechanics andEngineers had to bring thesituation under their control,or...

Arbido walked over tome.He still hadn't suited up.His eyes were popping out,his green skin blotched with

gray:asgoblinswent,hewaspale as a sheet. "Have youseenthis?"

My interface flashedwith a new incomingmessage.

I opened it, motioningArbido to a chair. As in, sitdownandstopfreakingout.

This was an excerptfromthelastWikiupdate.

TheWorld'sHistory:

...thedestructionofthe

Argus station by PhantomRaiders caused humans tolose control over the Dargsystem. The last of thepioneers fell in desperateclasheswiththeenemy.Therewere no survivors. Most ofthem died; a few were takenprisoner and spentmiserableyears in captivity. Theirfurther fate is unknown. The

destroyedstation fell into thehands of the Dargians whothus came into possession ofall the research resultsconducted by theCorporations.

Still, the Xenomorphs'rule wasn't meant to last. Ayear before these tragicdevelopments, the Engineers'Clan had managed to studyand restore one of theFounders' hyperspace

communication units. Theyused it to send detailedreports about the loss of theFirstColonialFleettoEarth.It's not clear whether theirsignaleverreachedtheSolarsystem. An answer nevercame.

The pioneers' deathwasn'tinvain.Theirmessagethat contained uniquescientific information wasindeedreceived,decodedand

studied from every possibleangle. By then, the situationon planet Earth hadworsened.A largenumberofecological and man-madedisasters as well as climatecatastrophes followed inquick succession. A newworld war was brewing. Inthat situation, the newknowledge received fromdeep spacegrantedhumanityachanceofsurvival.

Independently fromeach other, the governmentsof the five inhabitedcontinents took the decisiontobuildnewcolonialfleets.

Two years after thedeath of Argus' lastdefenders, enormousstarships started leaving theSolarsystemonebyone.

Eurasiawasthefirst toventure into deep space,accompanied by a convoy of

two hundred freighters andbattleships.

So began the era ofExodus.As thenewstarshipsfinished completion, humansbegan leaving the doomedplanetEarth tohead into theunknown, hoping to retracethe tracks of the FirstColonial Fleet and solve themysteries of the Founders.They wanted to understandthe mechanism behind the

Raiders' interstellar jumpsand finally find the PhantomServer which would allowthemto takeover theancientnetwork and populate theUniverse.

Holyshit!Talkabouta

globalevent!"Where did you get

this?"Iglaredathim,stillnotquite grasping themagnitudeoftheloomingpredicament.

"It'sintheWiki!""Bullshit! It must be

somebody'ssickjoke!""This is an official

update,"Arbidosaidsullenly."The patch has just beeninstalled."

The station shudderedwithanewimpact.Whathadhappenednow?Iscannedthenewsfeed. That's it. Thestation's framework wascrumbling under pressure. A

new decompression had justoccurred in the Corporationsarea. The number ofcasualtieswasstillunknown.

The station wasdisintegrating. Prices foravailable spaceshipsskyrocketed. The depressingnews was interspersed withoffers,

Willpayanymoneyforasaferespawnpoint.

"Right," I quickly

replaced the life supportcartridges in my suit. "Anyidea what's going on? Yourversion?"

He paused, sulking,then shrugged and began,"Don't you understand? Thealpha testing is over. Theydon'tneedusanymore."

"It's over, so what?" Ireally couldn't see how thisupdatecouldbebadnews.

Judging by the

available information, thebetatestingphasewastostartwiththearrivaloftheEurasiaColonialFleet.Averylogicalmove on the part of thedevelopers. Whatever hadhappened here during thealpha testing phase wouldnow be filed as the world'sepic prehistory. The newplayerscouldvisitArgusandsee for themselves,witnessing their world's past

withtheirowneyes.The way I saw it, the

arrival of Eurasia and itsconvoy could happen at anymoment.Inagame,timewasrelative. Decades ofsubluminal flight could takehoursprovidedthedevelopershadanupdateready.

Both the fleet and thestation would just appear atthe assigned location,obeyingthedevelopers'will.

Arbido sniffed, hisglarelacedwithdesperation.

"What's there to worryabout?"I triedtoreasonwithhim."Anewupdate,bigdeal!They're sending us a newstation and a new colonialfleet.What'swrongwiththat?We'llhavenewsafe respawnpoints and a new guaranteedprotection. Trust me, they'regoing to "rescue" us all andgreet us as the heroes of the

First Colonial Fleet who'dheldthefortuntiltheirarriv-"

"Where does it saythat?" his voice rose to ascream. "Read it again,Zander! There were nosurvivors!"

"Stopit,"Iskimmedthepage again and shrugged."Okay, so we'll log out andlog back in.Or create a newaccount, if it ever comes tothat."

"Sorry,Zander. I knowIoweyoumylifeandallbutyour stupidity amazes mesometimes."

"Anyproof?"I was offended, of

course.Butthefamiliartoughtone in his voice made meswallow my pride and payattention.

"When did you lastcheck your Logout button?"heasked.

"It'sbeenawhile.Iwastoobusyjustlately,"Iopenedtheinterfaceandstaredatthedead, nameless gray button."What the f-... Are theyravingmad?"

He cracked a gloomygrin. "So now you believeme,don'tyou?"

I gulped. "How longsince your logout button hasbeenoff?"

The station shuddered

again, convulsing in the gripof another technogenicaccident.Arbido's stare grewsharp.

"Ineverhadone in thefirstplace,"headmitted.

At this point — nogoodme playing the hero infront of you — it started tosinkin.

"Now we're little morethan a bunch of comatosebodieswoundwithwires,"he

didn't even try to sugarcoatthe news. "It's not the gamethat's the problem even. It'sthe way we connect to it.You've already worked outquitealot,haven'tyou?"

I nodded. My mindraced trying tocomeupwitha solution. The memory ofthe mummified avatarsflashed through my mind.This time I didn't have towonderwhathadhappenedto

theirplayers.They'dalldied.Theneuroimplant'seffecthadproved toomuch for them. Icouldsay the sameabout theHaash and the few DargiansI'dmet— about Jurgenwhowas absolutely sure he'darrived here with the FirstColonial Fleet! Most of thealpha testers were alreadydead; and those who'dsurvived had lost theirmemory under the influence

oftheirneuroimplants,takingthe place of NPCs. Howabout that vendor I'd met atMyrus? He was one sleazymotherfucker, perfectlybelievable,andwhy?Becausehe was real! Because hisavatar was backed up by adeformedhumanidentity!

Sowhatwasthis,then?This game of the future thatwas supposed to aweeveryonewithitsauthenticity

was based not on its uniqueengine, unforgettable settingsandlimitlesspossibilities,buton trapped human beingsplayingforNPCs?

"Right," I sprung upand began pacing the room."Let's assume you're right.Butwhywould theywant togetridofus,ofallpeople?"

He screwed his face."Well, as far as I'mconcerned,it'sallprettyclear.

They're cleaning up afterthemselves. I provided themwith players. I knew toomuchandguessedevenmore.And as for you, you didn'thaveenoughtimetoloseyouridentity the way Jurgen did.We're still conscious, ourmemories untouched —which means we present athreat to their project.Nobody needs a scandal. Noone wants an eyewitness to

come out of the woodworkwhocantelleveryoneexactlyhowthisgamewasmadeandhow many people had diedwhile the developers fine-tuned their neuroimplants.The Raiders' attack waspreplanned by the Admins.Can't you see the station isfallingapart?There'renosaferespawn points left! Thelogout doesn't work. We'vebeencondemned!"

I paused, trying to takeinwhathe'djustsaid."You'retoo much, you," I chucklednervously. "Don't you thinkyou're overcomplicatingthings? If theywanted to getrid of us, all they had to dowas switch off the in-mode.Easy!"

"They still need ourneurograms," he snappedback, adding angrily, "Theextreme neurograms of a

chainofdeaths,respawnsandnew deaths. How manyplayers would they haveneeded to kill in order tocollect the material they'reabouttogetnowbyrecordingpeople's minds dying andrespawning in a radioactivevacuum?Why kill us if theycan first get all thedata theyneed? It's not every day youlayyourhandsontherecordsof the suffering of souls in

hell."His everyword cutme

tothequick.I'dhavelovedtoobject, but I had nothing tosay.

Still, I was trying tofindasolution."We'vegottocontact Jurgen. We need toexplain everything to him.Wemightfindafewmodulesthat we can convert into ashelter.Wemight be able tohold out until the betas

arrive.""Pointless. The

developers can read ourneurograms, don't youunderstand? They knowperfectly well who isdangerous to them and whoisn't.Jurgenmightsurvive,asan NPC. But you and I,they'vewrittenusoff,man..."

"I have no intention ofdying!" I felt fury risingwithinme."Noone'sgoingto

trick me into their respawnpurgatoryagain!"

I checked the batteriescharge."What'reyoustandingtherefor?"IyelledatArbido."GetCharonherenowinfullcombatgear!Sameappliestoyou!"

"ButZander-""Doit!"I have to admit I went

off the deep end. I justcouldn't understandwhathad

prevented the admins fromexercisingtheirpower.

Was it that theycouldn’t—ortheyjustdidn'twantto?

Were they sitting theresipping cold beer andsmirkingastheywatchedus?

My left hand tingled.Mechanically Ipulledoff theglove. My fingers wereablaze, enveloped inanaura.My skin had become

parchmentwhite,themazeofblood vessels aglow as if Ihad plasma running throughmyveins.

I refused to believe it.A game artifact couldn'tprotect me from anything.How could a piece of binarycodedeigntodefendme?

What was going on,then?

A message popped upinmymentalvision,

Neurogram

transmission failure.Restoring communication.Neurogram transmissionfailure. Restoringcommunication. Neurogramtransmissionfa-

Was the AI inside me

tryingtostrikeback,blockingout the admins' control overme? If so, then how was it

done?Iwas shaking.Sowhat

wasit, then?WastheartifactindeedbasedonanalienAI?Had it found a way tooutsmartitsdevelopers?Howhad it done so, by improvingpart of the program code?Had it indeed managed toblock the neurogramtransmission, putting thegame creators before thedilemmaofeitherleavingme

alone or turning off the in-mode?

Iexpectedmybreathingto cease, strangling me, butnothingofthekindhappened.

***

The station kept

shuddering. The bulkheadsvibrated, the floor buckledunderfoot.

The newsfeed brought

an update: the CorporationsDeck was completelydecompressed.

My thoughts raced.Whatwas it theWiki updatehad said? The last stationdefenders had fallen longbefore the arrival of thecolonial fleet? It meant thatstaying at the station waspointless.

I tried tocomeupwithpotential escape scenarios.

This enormousworld offereda countless number ofunexplored locations. Butfirstofall,Ihadtofindasaferespawnpoint.

Thestationwasbynowvibrating non-stop, thebulkheads echoing with theimpacts from minor butconstantbreakdowns.

Anewsystemmessagepoppedup,

Neurogramtransmissionrestored

My hand was still

enveloped by a purple aura.Still,itlookedliketheAIhadfailed.Butme,Iwasn'tgoingtogiveupsoeasily.

The door of theadjacent room opened. Cladin my old pressure suit,Arbidocouldbarelywalk,theoversized gear hindering his

every movement. Charonfollowed, looking alarmed.Hewasholding twohelmets,Arbido'sandhisown.

Arbido stopped, staringat my hand. Naturally, I'dforgotten to put the glovebackon.Nowhe'dpestermewithquestions.

Whatweneed isa saferespawn point, my thoughtsreturned to the problem athand. All the rest is

superfluous.Arbidocouldn'ttakehis

eyesoff theglowingveinsofthe blood vessels thatentwined my hand in theirfiery web. I put the gloveback on and cast him ameaningful glare to stop anypotentialquestions.

"Put the helmets on," Isaid. "We're going to try toget to the elevators. Time toleg it, guys," I turned to the

Haash. "Charon, I meant toaskyou-"

The lock's internalhatchopened.

Liori?I'd no idea what made

hercomehere.Howonearthhadshemanaged tohack thecodedlock?

She recognized me.Still, she didn't look toohappytoseeme.Surpriseanddispleasure flashed through

herface."Which one of you is

Arbido?"hervoicerangwithstrainandexhaustion.

Thegoblinshrankback,probably trying to hidebehind Charon but onlybetrayinghimself.

"No, wait!" I couldn'tunderstand what was goingon.

The girl wasn'tlistening. She grabbed

Arbido's throat with onehand, lifting him effortlesslyintheair,whilewhippingouthis gun with the other. Themuzzle pressed hard into thewrinkled skin between thegoblin'seyes.

What a day.Everybody's nerves wereplayingup.

"The coordinates,now!"shedemanded.

Arbido croaked

somethingunintelligible.I too had already

whipped out my gun but Iwasn't in a hurry to use it. Iliked the girl. I glaredwarninglyatCharon."Whichcoordinates?"

Shedidn'tbataneyelid,butmyPMbox flashedwithan incoming message. Iopened it and stared at ascreenshot: thestation'souterhull illuminated in a dull

brownlightandtheFounders'starshipclingingtoitwithitsdocking ports. The ship wassurroundedbythetinyfiguresof the Dargians, the dronesand theHaashbusy restoringthis relic of ancienttechnology.

"Wheredidyouget thepicfrom?"Iaskedher.

"A certain Arbidopublished it on the net! Heauctioned it! Demanding

three million credits for theexact coordinates of a fullyrestored Founders' starship,"shequoted.

"Let go of him, please.He'd been pestering me forthis picture so Iwas the onewhogaveittohim."

Her lips quivered. Ithoughtshewoulddissolveintears. Her fingers slackened,letting go of Arbido. Heslumpedtothefloor.

Slowly the girl turnedtome.Tearswelledupinhereyes. Her face was ashen."Do you know thecoordinates? Zander, pleasehelp.Please."

Whateverhadhappenedtoheraggressivestance?Theimage of a cold-bloodedmercenary girl had meltedaway and faded inmymind,giving way to a totallydifferent person. I could see

shewasonedge,driventothelimit. I just couldn'tunderstandwhy.

"Liori, why on earthwould youwant this old rustbucket? The ship is worth alot, I agree, but it's seriouslydamaged. It's notflightworthy."

"Thatdoesn'tmatter.Itslife support system stillworks."

"I wouldn't know. I've

never been inside it. I'mgoing to askCharon about itin a minute. Take a seat.We'llworkitout."

"The life supportworks!" she stared at me insome sort of delirious hope."The Mercs clan wasseriously considering theoffer. They analyzed thescreenshot.Whenyoustudyitthrough a set of filters, youcanseethepuffsofemissions

beingdischarged."Hervoicewas shaking.

Tearsstreakedherface."Calm down, Liori. I

know that Argus is about tofallapartand-"

"You know nothing!"She turned to theairlockandbreathedout,"Youcancomeinnow."

Ifthetruthwereknown,I expected to see a squad ofmercenaries armed to the

teeth. But — my heartskippedabeat—ashygroupof children ventured into theroom.

There were five ofthem. Three girls pale withfear and two boys, all aboutthree or four years old.Theyflocked around Liori, castingwaryglancesatCharon.

"Oh," the youngest ofthem noticed the goblinwho'd scrambled out of his

restraining pressure suit andwas trying to hide behindCharon's back. "He's sofunny.Ishereal?"

Do you still rememberyour childhood? It took metwo heartbeats to remembermine. The happy carefreetimewhenmymindwasstillfree from the void ofcyberspace. When I hadn'thad to worry about the toxichazeoutdoors.WhenI'dwake

upeverymorning,untroubledand inexperienced,welcomingeverynewday.

AllIhadleftfromthosedays were a few fadedfragmentary flashbacks butthatwasenoughtoknockthewindoutofme.

For years I'd beentrying to ride the wave andstay on top of progress inconstant search forauthenticity and finally, I'd

madeit.Pain had become real

pain. A game had becomereality. I looked at Liorisurroundedbythechildren—butIwasn'tlookingatalevel53merc.All Icouldseewasa pale tearful woman whostared at me in hope anddesperation.

In moments like this,yourmindsnaps."Arbido."

Hepeekedfrombehind

Charon'sback."Iwantyoutotakecare

ofthechildren."Once again the

Founders'neuronetwithinmekicked in. Neurogramtransmissionfailuremessagesflashed non-stop.Thiswouldforce the admins to interfere,and I had no idea what theymightdo.

I motioned Liori asideforatalk.Arbidodidn'tseem

to have heard my order. Hestood there catatonic, blackdesperation in his stare.Charon saved the moment.Hunching up, he slumped tothefloorandtiltedhisheadtoone side, assuming theperfectly harmless pose of ahugecuddlytoy.

Liori and I steppedaside. "What are the childrendoingatthestation?"

"It'salongstory."

I wasn't going to takethatforananswer.

"They were born here.Into the families of thosewho'd arrived with the firstwave."

That wasn't true. Noonecouldhaveactuallybeenborn here. There was a realchild acting behind each oneofthoseavatars.

"The logout button?" Iasked, letting her know I

knewwhatwasgoingon.She wiped away her

tears."Theyhavenowheretogobackto."

"So they've beencondemned just likeallofushere?"

Shenodded."We're gonna sort it

out," but I wasn't good atcomforting. The hair on theback of my neck stood onend. A lump blocked my

chest. "The ship is crammedfull of Dargians," I gulpedand tried to speak dryly andtothepoint."Ifwemopthemallup,we'llgetboththeshipanda relatively safe respawnpoint.Whatdoyouthink?"

InoddedatArbidoandat Charon surrounded by thechildren. "That's my wholearmy."

"I could pull in fivemorepeople,"shespokewith

a speck of hope. "Two arepilots. The other three aremercs. They're proven.They'regood."

"Notenough.Thereareabout a hundred Dargiansthere."

"Wecancalluparaid,"shesuggested.

I shook my head. "Wecan't afford to leak theexistence of the ship. Youunderstand, don't you?

Everybody is losing theirgrip. This kind of intel willget you killed by your ownkind.Let'sdoitthisway.Yougoandfindfivepilotsandatleastfifteenmercs.Leavethechildren here. Charon willlook after them. We'll alsoneed two craft: an assaultmodule and a personnelcarrier.I'lltakecareofthat."

Ihadtothinkfast.Loricheered up a little. A new

systemmessagepoppedupinmyview,

Neurogram

transmissionresumed.Plot update alert!

You've unblocked a uniqueplotline!

You have the followingalternatives:

1. You can stay onboardArgus. In caseof yourdeath, your safe logout is

guaranteed.2. You can activate the

alternative plot line. In thatcase,youwillremainingameand your logout will remainfrozen.

Warning! Choosingoption #2 will automaticallyqualifyyouasanOutlaw.Thenew pioneers arriving in theDarg system on boardEurasiawill regardyouasacriminal.

My hand was still on

fire. It looked like mymysterious artifact keptfightingagainstsomeattempttoblockit.

Amultitudeofthoughtsflashed through my mind.This "alternative plot line"offer was evidently theconsequence of theneurogram transmissionfailure. It hadn't taken the

adminslongtocomeupwitha compromise. I was suretheywereitchingtostudythisnew problem.Once again I'dbecome a valuablecommoditytothem.Andstillthey were sure that withoutthefunctioningLogoutbuttonwe didn't present a threat totheir project. We'd either bedeadorcompletelyoutofourminds before the NewColonial Fleet and Eurasia

madeithere.Andevenifweweren't,whowouldlistentoabunchofOutlaws?

Charon was growlingquietly. The kids weren'tafraidofhimonebit.

In moments like these,decisionstakesplitseconds.Idon't need their "guaranteedlogout".

I was going to fight.Formyself, forLiori, for thekids, forCharon andArbido.

I would know no mercy,fighting till theendwhateverthatmaybe.

My eyes searched fortherightbutton.

Activate the alternative

plotline.The heat in my hand

subsided.

***

I had no time to think.

We had to act fast. Thestationwasfallingapartattheseamsslowlybutsurely.

I took command. Ihadn't told anyone about this"alternativeplotline"yet.

"Liori, you'll find ussome pilots and mercs.Choose only those you cantrust.Arbido,"Iturnedtothegoblin, "I want you to find

out where we can findchildren's size gear. Quick,while the station network isstill online.Charon, you stayhere. Don't let anyone in inourabsence."

Charon noddedenergetically. Gingerly heclimbed to his feet andwalked over to me, hope inhis face. "Are we going toliberatemybrothers?"

"Absolutely," I said

withoutashadowofadoubt.I really liked the Haash.Besides, they were the onlyoneswhoknewhowtoflytheancientship.

"We'll need somemetabolites," he remindedme."Andfood."

That was something Ihadn't even thought of. Thatput an extra strain to ourroute.We'dhavetochecktheMarket Deck and the exo

section."Got it. Ten sets of

Dargian gear," Arbido hadalready scanned the shops'price lists. "Thesize isaboutright."

That changed ourpriorities. "Liori, you thinkyou could work from here?Viathenetwork?"

"Sure. I can use themnemonicmessaging."

"Then you're staying

with the kids. Schedule RVwithmercs atLaunchBay7.Don't let them in on any ofthedetails.Justpromisethema safe respawn point. Thinkthat'llbeenoughtokeeptheminterested?"

"Quite. How aboutyou?"

"CharonandIaregoingto get some supplies. Weneedmetabolitesandalsolifesupport cartridges for our

suits. I might also try to getus apersonnel carrier andanassaultmodule.IthinkIhaveanidea."

She looked at me withrespect. It was actuallyCharonwho deserved praise.He'd been the one who'dsuggested it. Imagine usleavingonaperilous journeythroughspacewithoutfoodormedication! We'd also needto stock up on batteries —

and lotsofother little things.Awholelistofthem,cometothinkofit.

"Charon, Iwant you toinject all themetabolites youhaveleft.You'llhavetoworkasamule, I'mafraid. Iwon'tbeable tocarrymuchonmyown."

He obeyed withoutsaying a word. The childrenstared at us with fearlessinterest. Unlike us, their

youngmindswerestillhighlyadaptable. Despite all thehorrorsof the last fewhours,theonlythingthatupsetthemwas that "uncleCharon"wasleaving them on somebusiness.

I gave them anencouraging smile eventhough I wasn't sure ofanything yet. We had toomuch to do, and the stationwasstillfallingapart.

Liori's grateful gazewasfullofunspokenanxiety.Onceagainshewasabundleof nerves, just like the firsttimewe'dmet.

Wehadtobeoff,then.Charon and I walked

out into the corridor, stillsealed and breathable.Nevertheless, we clicked ourhelmetson,grabbedourgunsand off we went on mypreplannedroute.

Asweadvancedtowardthe Market Deck, I tried tocontact Jurgen. He didn'tanswer; then all of a suddenhePM'dme.

His combat chat wason.

That set alarm bellsringing."Problems?"

They're here... to killme... he couldn't control hisragged thoughts. Strangefaces flashed amid his

mnemonic images. Hisemotions were getting thebetterofhim.Apparently,heknewhiskillerswell.

"Thinkyoucanholdthefortforfiveminutes?"

Iftheairlockholds."We'reonourway."Anotherchangeofplan.

I just hoped Jurgen couldhang on until our arrival.Hewas a good guy. And now Ireally counted on his help. I

couldn't even tell what wasmore important for us: hisconnections, his phenomenalwillpower or that incrediblespiritofhis.

Wewereabouttostormthe Dargian station and fightto the death with at least ahundredDargians. I triednotto even think about theGuides.Wehadnoideawhatthey were, so we had toexterminate them on sight.

We really needed supportfrom some heavy guns ifwewanted to take them on.Weneeded at least one combatmodule fully equipped withdrones.

Ihadn't evendreamtofgetting Jurgen on my teambut today it looked as ifchanceruledtheday.

The Technologistsclan'ssectionwascompletelydecompressed, its massive

armored doors smashed bypowerful blasts. That'shumanity for you. Themoment their habitual worldorder had started creaking atthe seams, it had allresurfaced: looting, robbingand violence. Some werebusy stuffing their pocketswhileothershurriedtotakeitouton their fellowclansmen,doing things they wouldneverhavedaredtodounder

anyothercircumstances.Sobasically,thestation

was in chaos. It was everymanforhimself.

Charonand I ranalongthe endless corridor,disregarding the open doorsofthelootedwarehouses,labsandtesthangars.

The placemarkpinpointing Jurgen's roomwas growing near. TheTechnologists' livingquarters

lay after the next tunnelintersection. I could seebursts of flashes: there, abattlewasinfullswing.

I held Charon back,motioninghimtofreeze.

Thecombinationof themind expander and theFounders' AI neuronetallowed me to connect tocertain subsystems directly.I'd only discovered thisability of mine the day

before, at themoment of thehighestmentalstrainwhenI'dfinally docked the ship andtried to assess the scale ofdamagedonetothestationbythePhantomRaiders'attack.

I had ended up with aheadache fromhell.But nowthe informationwasworth it.I connected my mind to thesurveillance cameras that theTechnologists had stuck oneverycorner.

Thelivingtunnelswerewide: the Technologists hadcompletely overhauled thisarea of ancientcommunications. Every fiftyfeetthecorridorwidenedintosmall neat landings withflowerbedsanddoorsleadingtotheclanmembers'personalmodules.Now,ofcourse, theplants were all dead. In fact,apart from the artificialgravity, all other life support

systems in the sector weredown.

Two electric carsblocked the tunnel next toJurgen's room. Four mercstook cover behind thisimprovised barricade —ordinary soldiers, judging bytheir gear.Levels 15 to 20. Icounted nine more standingbytheroom'souterhatch:onewascuttingthroughthelockswithaplasmatorchwhilethe

rest stood with guns at theready, casting wary glancesaround.

Oneofthemworesomeunusual gear, similar towhatI'd seen on the Dargians. Itsblack cargonite surface toosurgedwithflashesofenergy,pointing at an activatedpersonalpowerfield.

Istudiedhismarker.It'snot that easy without directvisual contact. You had to

really concentrate to see itthrough the camera. Mystrength was dwindlingquickly.Iwasstillnewtothissort of mental exercise. Thefeeling was unpleasant — itfelt as if your very nerveswereburningout.

Jyrd. Level 50. Outlaw

Elite.He was bad news, I

couldfeelit.Yesterday I'd noticed a

large group of enemy shipstry to circumvent the station.I probably shouldn't haveblameditonregularplayers.

TheOutlawsmusthavelandedinthedesertedsectorsand used the commotion topenetrate unnoticed onto theinhabiteddecks.Iwouldn'tbesurprised if they hadinstigated all the looting and

rioting.I really didn't like it.

The power balance wasdefinitely not in our favor.Still, we had to help Jurgenout.

Our position wasn'tgood, either. Unlike theenemy taking cover behindtheir cars, we were exposed.If we ran to attack them,they'dtakeusoutintheirownsweettime.

My gaze followed thetunnel's ceiling. Thedecompressionhadrippedthecasing off, exposing theribbed frameworkunderneath. I could see thedeep service niches housingcables and pipes. Everythingwasasitshouldbe.Iglancedatthebeams:theywerethickenough to hold my weight.Without switching thecommunication system on, I

signed to Charon, trying toexplain what I was about todo.Henoddedtensely.

He seemed to haveunderstood my plan. Now,the weapons. I changed theclip in my pulse gun andmaxed out the rate of fireslider, setting it to boostedpower. The sniper sights inmyhelmetwerealwayson.

I activated themovement coordinator and

decided on my route andfiring position between thereinforcementribs.

Go!I'd never had to run on

topofthewallbefore.IguessIwasn'tverygoodatit—butstillfastenough.Iverynearlytumbled down halfwaythrough but my metaboliccorrector brought my panicundercontrol inno time.Myears hummed. I anchored

myselftotheceilingwiththehelp of my gear's molecularsuctionpadsandhungupsidedown in a discreet serviceniche.

I peeked out of mymakeshiftshelter.

Everything lookedupside down. I aimed at theOutlaw. My mind expanderwas a great help. Thiswas aweird firing position. Still,my body adjusted to it

quickly thanks to all thepractice flights. In outerspace, the idea of "up" and"down" soon loses itsmeaning.

It was no harder thanshootingdownadronewhileinaspin.

Charonkeptglancingatme,awaitingmysignal.

Inodded.He darted forward and

loosed off a few rounds,

immediatelyducking into thenearest tunnel and pullingsharplytooneside.

His shots causedcascades of sparks to fly offone of the cars. One of theassassinswentflyingback.Ahugeholegaped inhisvisor:Charon hadmanaged to takeoneout.

I fired several briefbursts. My position wasexcellent. The field of fire

was perfect. Besides, ourenemies were still prettyclueless, focusing theirattention on Charon's lankyfigure.Theycouldn'tseeme!

Three of them wentdown.Afewmorescrambledback, apparently wounded,looking for somewhere totake cover. I put two burstsinto the Outlaw. He onlymomentarily staggered in hismassive armor that allowed

him to stand steady on hisfeet. His powerful personalpowershieldhadnoproblemabsorbing the impacts,transforming my bullets intored-hotdropletsofmetal.

Charonhadshrunkintothe shadows, merging withthe wall. Excellent. He wasdoing it by the book. Ipressed my body to theceilingasaburstof responsefirerippedthroughthecables,

slicing off sections ofpipework. The wholestructure vibrated. Chemicalsgushed out of the damagedpipes,formingbubblingpoolsofacidonthefloorandfillingtheairwithtoxicfumes.

Charon and I sprangintoactiononcue,thecaustichazeouronlyally.Theburstsof the assassins' pulse gunswere still hitting the ceilingwhen I dropped down and

sprinted toward theirimpromptubarricade.Charonoutran me, lithe and lethal,slidingalongthewall insteadof just charging blindlyforward,coveringthezoneoffire inhuge leaps.TherewasnowayIcouldcatchupwithhim. I stopped and openedfire, shooting at randomsimplytodistracttheenemy.

My belt's power shieldcould still take a punch but

mybatterychargeplummetedinto the red. I couldn't seejackshit. Imoved inbounds,headingfor theoppositewalland catching a few morerounds which pierced theshield and ricocheted off myarmor, striking sparks andleaving deep dents in themetal.

I ran, giving it my all.The haze suddenly lifted,revealing the outline of the

wrecked car. I flung myselfover the hood and stumbledover a dead body. The timegap between a character'svirtual death and hisrespawning serves to collectthelootfromfallenenemies.

I ducked. A new burstof fire whizzed overhead. Ablack figure loomed out ofthehaze.TheOutlawchargedat me like a tank, hispockmarked armor glowing

weakly.Hisconfidentprecisemovementsmade it clear hisgear had been mechanicallyenhanced.

I ducked to one side,sending a new burst of fireintohishelmet.Ibreachedhispower shield but not thecargonite. The Outlawstaggered momentarily, thenwentforme,sweepingmeoffmy feet in one powerfulblow. The difference in our

levels and gear wasimpressive. I tried to jumpback to my feet but hepunchedmeagainwithallthemight of his mechanicalenhancers, forcing myinadequate breastplate intomyribs.Theagonywassuchthat I couldn't breathe. Hemust have broken a few ribsforsure.Mysuit'ssplitseamsbegan to froth with thesealingfoam.IthinkIpassed

out.This had to be another

respawn.Icouldneitherfocusnor think straight. TheOutlaw must have thoughtthis was the end of me. Heturned away and picked upthe plasma torch. No ideawhatCharonwasdoing.

I struggled to breathe,feeling the bloody frothbubble on my lips. Themetabolic implant went into

overdrive, burning my ownbody resources, but it mademe feel better. An unnatural,feverish surge of energyflooded over me barelythinningoutthecrimsonhazebeforemyeyes—but itwasenough to allow me tobreatheandmove.

Charonburstintoview.HeandtheOutlawmusthavebeen almost equal... but Ispoke too soon. A shattering

blow sent the Haash flyingacrossthefloor.

Why was Jurgen stillinside?Groaning,Iscrambledto one knee. I'd dropped thegunbutitwasuselessanywayagainst this custom-madearmoredsuit.

The toxic haze wasthinning out. The massivehatch of Jurgen's room wasred-hot.TheOutlawwasinadecisivemood.Hedidn'tcare

aboutmeanymore.I want armor like his.

Anda new level in exchangeformybroken ribs,mymindswitched over to gamingmode, instinctively trying toblockoutthehopelessnessofthesituation.

I whipped out thesniper rifle from myinventory and aimed it at hishead even as I realized thiswas nothing but a vain

attempt to appease my ego.TherewasjustnowayIcouldbringhimdown.

My hands wereshaking. My left handpulsated under the glove, theFounders'neuronetremindingmeofitself.Butwhatwasthepoint?

The gun sights kickedin, outlining the massivepower unit of the plasmatorchinred.

This was suicide. Thatthing would explode with avengeance.

I limped back to therelativesafetyofthemangledcarandtookaim.

Ashot.Aflash.You've received a new

level!You've received a new

level!

Everythingwentdark.

***My awakening was

slow and painful. It hurt meto breathe. A strange roomfloated before my eyes. Amassivefigurebentoverme.

TheOutlaw?"Calm down, you,"

Jurgen's voice came throughasaweakfar-offecho."Hold

still.You'resafe."I heard the socket

covers snap open on mywrist. The air reeked withsomethingutterlyfoul.

"More!" Jurgenaddressedsomeoneoutofmyfield of vision. "Pass me theexo #15. These things areuseless."

I croaked, struggling tofindmyvoice.Ineedednoneoftheirexoshit!

But they didn't seeminterestedinmyopinion.

"Now, Zander. It'sgonna hurt. But you'll feel awhole lot better afterwards.There's no otherwaywe candoit.You'vegotapuncturedlung from your broken ribs.Sobraceyourself."

Iscreamed.It felt as if they were

pouring molten metal downmyveins.

Ipassedout.Darkness lasted but a

moment, relieving andabsolute. Then I came toagain, readying myself for anewagony.Butall Ifeltwasan incredible lightness inmyentirebodyasifI'djustbeenborn again. I was alert andfullofenergy.

Twopeopleleanedoverme. Their gear was just asgood as the one the Outlaw

had had, albeit not black.Cargonite has this particularbluishsheen.Icouldseetheirfaces behind their visors:Jurgen and a strange womanI'dneverseenbefore.

"Charon," I stillcouldn't believe I wasn'thurting.Mymouthwasdry.Ittastedfoul.

"Who, the Haash?"Jurgen asked. "He's all right.Hisgear tookabitofflakso

hehastroublemoving.""Thinkyou can fix it?"

I still couldn't think straightafterourcloseshave.

"I'llthinkofsomething.But you, Zander, I owe you.It's been twice you've savedmy butt now. Here, take alook."

The wall parted,revealing a niche.Amassivearmored suit strode out intotheroom.

"Takeit,"Jurgensaid."You'veearnedit."

Myjawdropped."Don't be shy," he

apparentlymisunderstoodmysilence. "Take your cheapjunkoff.I'vesealedtheroomwithapowershield.Comeonnow,putiton!"

Who did he think hewas,bossingmearound?

Icouldn't takemyeyesoff the brand-new armor.

EventheWikididn'tmentionanythingaboutit.Thishadtobe one of the Technologists'custom-made designs eventhough in places it lookedsuspiciously like the oneworn by the Outlaw I'd justsmoked.

No wonder, actually,considering that two of theTechnologists' leaders hadturned coat and joined theOutlaws.

This exo stuff wasworrying me. Even though Ifelt good at the moment, itmightjustbackfirelater.

I removed my helmetand handed it to Jurgen."There're two devices left inthe slots. Do you think youcanreinstalltheminthisnewsuit?"

He cast a quick glanceatthem."Whyonearthwouldyouneedthisoldtat?"

"Sentimentalvalue."Hedidn'targue."Ifyou

sayso.""Howlongwillthisexo

stuffwork?""About twenty hours, I

think.I'vegivenyouonehellofadose."

"Andthenwhat?""Thenyouneedtokeep

your metabolic implant inoverdrive,"hesaid."Weneedyour ribs toknitwhileyou're

stillundertheinfluenceoftheexo. Then all you'll get is aminor energy loss. Mightkeepyouinbedforadayandthat'sit."

"Ineedanotherdose."Jurgen'seyesfilledwith

suspicion. "Have you takenthembefore?"

"I haven't but I might.Twentyhoursisnotenough.Ineed much more time thanthat."

"Whatfor?Spititout."There was no point in

memakingasecretof it so Iputhiminthepicture.

Hearing about thechildren, he paled. "Can youguarantee us a safe respawnpoint?"

"Look at me. If Imanaged to survive there—andIwasonlylevel1-"

"Right," he quicklymadeuphismind. "Ourclan

doesn't exist anymore. Thestation is about todisintegrate.FriedaandI,wewanted to have a baby too.But-" he made a helplessgesture. His face darkened."All Iwant tosay isyoucancountonus.Here, take this,"he handed me my activationcodeandaheftyhelmetwithmyslavecollarcontrollerandsniper sights alreadyinstalled. "Suit up. I'll go

checkonyourHaash."The suit's servodrives

whirred. Its heavy armorplatesparted,invitingmein.

HowwasIsupposedtoclimbinside?

"Turn round and stepback toward it," Jurgen said,noticingmyconfusion.

Iobeyed.The suit's interior was

lined with some porousspringy substance studded

with sensors. Once my bodycame into contactwith them,they activated the sealingprotocol. The armor platesslid back into place. Sharpneedles penetrated my skin.Themindexpanderhurriedtoreport new peripheralsinstalled.

But where were theirstats?

Thenewinterfaceiconsweregrayandunresponsive.I

stretched my neck, reachedforthehelmetandputiton.

With a hiss, the neckringrotatedintoplace.

You'vereceivedasetof

heavyarmor!Item class: unique.

Hand-made.Customdesign.+3 to Strength, -2 to

Agility,+3toStamina,+15toArmor,+10toPowerField.

Warning! Using this

type of gear requires 9 pt.Strength.Youwon'tbeabletocontrolthesuitonceyourexoingredientexpires.

Not good. But I'd have

to think about that when Icame to it.At themoment, Iwasdesperateforexactlythiskind of gear. And then we'dsee.

***

I spent the next ten

minutes getting used to mynewsuit.Itfeltfunny.Agilityhad indeed become aproblem. The muscleenhancers were too sensitiveand unpredictable. I'dclattered to the ground acouple of times before I gotusedtoit.Asfortherest,thesuitwasa treat. Itcamewithtwo integrated heavy pulse

machinegunsandfivepowerunits with a possibility torecharge from stationarypower sources. Plus a 0.5megawatt power shield! Addto it all sorts of sensors,analyzers and varioussubsystemswhose new iconsnow flickered before myeyes.

Icouldevenlugaroundalmost five hundred poundsat earth's gravity, even at the

cost of a further drop inagility.

Getting thehangof thesuit's basic functions hadn'ttakenmemuch time.All theadvanced functions wouldhave to be tested in action.This new gear had oneunquestionable plus: itoffered high personalprotection levels which to adegree compensated for mycharacter's deficiency in

level.Inthemeantime,Jurgen

hadpatchedupCharon'ssuit.Unlike myself, Charon hadwithstood the Outlaw'sassault. No critical damage,no bones broken. He castunkind glances at Jurgen,barely suppressing his desireto whack someone toalleviatehisstress.

Never mind. He mightjusthaveplentyofasstokick

soon.Ishookmyheadathim:

don't.ThenIwalkedout intothe corridor to test myintegrated weapons. Thebodies in charred gear werestilllyingaroundthehatch.

I bent over the Outlawand shook him out of hisdistorted armor. He couldrespawn in the nude for achange.

I studied the trophy.

The cargonitewas too heavy—nogoodformyinventory.Still, I read the stats. Thiskind of armor demanded 12pt.Strength!

But the maximum youcouldhavewas10,wasn'tit?What was that supposed tomean? Were the Outlawsconstantly on exo? To thebestofmyknowledge,itwastheonlythingthatcoulddriveyour characteristics beyond

thelimit.Or was it? How about

my newly-acquired skills,then? Friend of the Haashgave you +1 to allcharacteristics.And if, say, Ihad Agility already maxedout?

Shame I couldn't checkit. But it was somethingworth making a mental noteof. Iwouldn't be surprised ifthey had certain ingredients

or artifacts with a perpetualbonus.

The built-in machineguns worked like a dream. Itested them on the ravagedelectric car. The power unitexplosion had turned thevehicleintoalumpofmoltensteel. Now I literallypulverized it shooting withbothhands.

Awesome.My new armor came

with only onemajor flaw. Ifthe power went down, itwould turn it into anunmanageable heap of scrapmetal.

I gave it some thoughtandcameupwithasolution.Iwent back to my room,picked up my old gear andforced the breastplate backinto its place. My old light-armor suit only weighed 50pounds: I could carry that

much.But it could saveyourbutt in an emergency—say,ifthepowerunitswentdead.

Watching my actions,Jurgen nodded his approval."Goodjob.That'snotstupid!"

He opened hiscapacious bag and producedtwogearkits.Hestuffedonedown his own inventory likeI'd just done and handed theotheronetoFrieda.

His wife wasn't the

talkativetype.Oureyesmetacouple of times. She lookedslightly frightened but shestayedcomposed.BythetimeJurgen finished repairingCharon's suit, she'd packedthe supplies: some lifesupport cartridges andmetabolitesindisposabletubesyringes, a handful of foodtubes, water purificationtablets and automated first-aidkits.

Finally Charon couldgetup.Hewalkedaroundtheroom checking the smoothwork of his suit joints. Heseemed pleased with theresult.

It had been an hoursince we'd left to get somesupplies.

Jurgen began emptyinghisarsenal. IcontactedLiori."Everything okay? We'vebeen delayed here a bit

becauseofCharon.I'mintheTechnologists' sector. Wehaven'tbeentotheexoyet."

"We're fine. I've foundyou some mercs. Pilots arehard to come by. Until now,I've only heard from three.The others can't be reached.You need to bring the suits,remember?"

"Sure. How manymercs?"

"Twenty-fiveintotal."

"Good enough. Justkeeplookingforpilots,okay?How'sthesituation?"

"Quiet until now. Justdon'tbetoolong."

I could understand herconcern.Thechildrenhadnopressurizedsuits.

Jurgen signaled that hewasreadytoleave.

"Liori, I'll speak toyoulater."

***When I told Jurgen

about theassaultmoduleandpersonal carrier, he paused,thinking, then nodded. "Ithink I can get you a fewmodules. Not the combatonesthough.Onlycargo."

"That's not good. Weonly have five fighter ships.How are we supposed tomountanassault?"

"Five fighters is plentyto storm the station," heanswered."Onecancarrythemercs.I'mgoingtoflyit.Theother will carry the children,the supplies and this Arbidoof yours. Frieda can fly it.The ships are rather smallwith an autonomy of twelvehours and enough fuel for aone-way trip. So we don'thave much choice, really.This is the only option I can

offer.""Can't we talk to the

Pilotsclan?""Not really. They'll

dumpus.""Why?""Don't youunderstand?

They've hijacked both of theFounders'frigates.Iknowforcertain that there are saferespawnpointsonboard.Butdid they offer shelter or atleast the possibility of a safe

respawntoanyone?""No.""So you see. How can

we trust them? In thisscenario, laying their handson yet another flightworthyshipmightprovetoomuchofatemptationforthem.They'lldumpus,getholdoftheshipandmop up the Dargians allontheirown."

It made sense. "Howcould they create new

respawn points on board?" Iasked,curious.

"They have thismachine. Got it from theEngineersclan."

"Can you makesomethingsimilar?"

He chuckled. "TheEngineers clan kept it underwraps.But Iknowa thingortwo about it. I could try tomake a copy, I suppose.Provided we manage to find

all the parts. Come on now,time to move it. Tell mewhere you want me andFriedatobringthemodules."

"LaunchBay7."Hefrowned."Isthatthe

RVpoint?""Exactly.""No. No, Zander, that

won't do at all," he paused,thinking. "A big gatheringlike this is sure to attractattention," he opened the

station map and marked aroute into the station'sdeserted area, toward thethird and still unrestoredhangar."Sendyourmenhere.Not all at once! Let themcome in groups of twos andthrees."

"And how about ourfighterpilots?"

"Tell them to head tothe RV point on autopilot.Very soon all hellwill break

loose, trust me. You need towithdraw the ships beforesomebody else lays theirhandsonthem."

"Okay. You've talkedmeintoit.CharonandIneedto get some supplies. We'regoing to the Market Decknowandtheexosector."

Jurgen made somementalcalculations."I'llmeetyou in three hours' time," heconcluded."Goodenough?"

I nodded. We had tomake it. Provided the stationheld.

ChapterSix

PhantomServer.ArgusSpaceStationThePersonnelDeck,

twohourslaterNoonewasashappyto

see us back as was Arbido.He looked a sight. Thechildren had painted himevery color under the sun. Istill don't knowwhere they'dmanagedtogetthepaints.

"Now! The game'sover!" Liori seemed to havenoproblemhandlingthekids."Uncle Zander has brought

you some presents! Do youknowwhataspacesuitis?"

"Wow!" the four-year-old Alec struggled to lift acargonite helmet. "It's a realDargian one! Cool. Dadpromisedhe'dgetmeonelikethiswhenIgrowup."

His last phrasehung inmidair. Silence filled theroom.Someonesniffled.

"Dasha darling!" Liorirushedtowipethegirl'stears.

"Everything's going to be allright, sweetheart.No need tocry."

"I want to see mymommy!"

"Mommy's busy,sweetheart.She'llcometoseeuslater.Ipromise."

Charon turned away.His eyes too glistened withtears. I didn't know what todo or say. Even Arbido fellsilent.

"Comeon,don'tcry!"Ihelpedtheboytosuitupandchecked his life supportsystems."Noplayingwiththeinterface, no clicking on anyunfamiliar icons!" I spoke ina loud but hopefully not toorudeavoice.

"Zander," Liori begansuitingupthegirls."Wedon'thave the right cartridges forthese!"

"Wedo.Wemadesure

we took only already-modifiedsuits."

"How about me?"Arbidobuttedin.

"Sorry, man. Couldn'tfindanythingthatwouldfitagoblinanatomy,"Imeantitasa joke but it fell flat.Arbidoturned pale. I hurried toreassure him, "Cool down.We all breathe the same air,after all. Here, take this one.Itshouldfityoufine."

"How about themetabolites?"

"What are you talkingabout? Are you mad? Withyour green skin and lack ofimplants? Think before youopenyourmouth!So?Doesitfitwell?"

He paraded around theroom."It'sallright."

"Excellent. Children,helmetson!Report!"

They didn't look as if

they'd understood me. Lioricame to my rescue,"Children,theindicatorlightsshould turn green. Can youseethem?Let'sswitchonthestandardcommunications."

The communicationsystemclickedon, filling theearphones with fragilechildishvoices,

"My lights are allgreen! And I have two redones! Uncle Zander, the air

stinks!Whataretheseletters?CanIclickonthem?"

One of the girls, Inge,had to be resuited. It was agood job Charon and I hadtaken all ten suits available.Thevendorhadn'tminded.Infact, hewasn't in the shop atall.

The helmet turned outto be faulty: its neck ringdidn'tshutproperly.Ittookussomeeffort to finda suitable

replacement from whateverleftovergearwestillhad.

Liori checked all thesystems several times,opening service access portsandmeticulouslytestingeachsuit. She did the same toArbido, earning his eternalgoblingratitude.

I had other things toworryabout.WehadtocoverquiteadistanceandIwasn'tahundred percent sure Jurgen

would even be there waitingfor us. He didn't contact usand I had no idea where hemight be and what he mightbedoing.

"Right. Everythingseems to be okay," Lioriconcluded. She didn't lookwell.Herfacewasdrawn,hereyespaleandfaded.

I offered her a pack ofexo. Her eyes sharpened."No,thanks.Idon'tneedit."

"When did you sleeplast?"

"Ican'tremember.Wasit thedaybeforeyesterday?Ican make do with normalstimulators."

"No, you can't. It's anhour's hike to the RV. Afterthat we need to fly the shipandstormthestation."

"Very well, then," shetook the tube syringe andsqueezedit intothesocketof

hermetabolicimplant.Asshesealed the helmet, I noticedher face distorted by disgust.I wasn't a big fan of exo,either, but given theopportunity I might ask herwhy she was so prejudicedagainst it. She'd been in thegame for quite a while. Shehad to realize the importanceofsuchemergencymeasures.

Charon froze by thehatch.Onourwaybackwe'd

checked Serge's arms shop.He was there, cleaning outthe broken pieces of hisdisplay cabinets. Hemumbled something aboutthe shop being closed. Ireminded him about the dealwe'd struck earlier. As aresult, Charon checked hiswarehouse and came out aspleasedas theproverbialpig,carrying a weird long-barreled weapon whose

mounting"accidentally"fittedhisanatomy.

It was called a fier. Ineverquiteunderstoodhowitworked even though Charondid his best to explain itsfunctionstome.Mysemanticprocessor was still workingovertime trying to digestsome of the earlier concepts,depleting my brain's alreadychallenged processingcapacity.

Sointheend,Ithoughtitmight be better if I simplysawitinaction.

***

Outside in the corridor,

blue oxygen snowflakesfloated in the cosmic cold. Ilined everybody up. Charonand myself were to walk infront,followedbyArbidotenpaces behind armedwithmy

trustypulsegun.The children would

walk next, followed by Lioriin the rear. My biggestconcern was meeting anyOutlaws. At Serge's, I'dmanaged to laymyhandsona couple of plasmagrenades.TheexplosionoftheOutlaw'spower unit had beenimpressive but consideringour lineup, I'd have hated torevert to such extreme

combat techniques. I justhoped that our two large-caliber pulse guns andCharon's weird weaponwouldgetus through in caseofanytrouble.

We set off. I kept mycommunications channelswitchedtothelocalnetwork,listening absent-mindedly tothe kids' conversations. Inge— the youngest — wastelling everybody about her

kitten. I could actuallyunderstand what she meant:somekindofafluffy,cuddly,purring little NPC constantlyrubbing itself around yourankles.

Welcome to theenigmasofmodernmentality.

Children have adifferentwayofthinking.Forthem, what they see is real.This world — the distorted,disfigured realityofPhantom

Server dreamt up by its sickscriptwriters — had becomethe only home to these tinyfigures clad in alienspacesuits as they gropedthrough the oxygensnowstorm filling themangled deck of an ancientspacestation.

I was beginning tounderstandmylifewasn'tmyownanymore.Itscaredme.

Thetunnelwidened,the

jagged stumps of its wallspartingindifferentdirections.The starry void twinkledoverhead.

Arbido sniffed,nervous. Charon breathednoisily and evenly. Lioristopped.Thechildrendid so,too. She didn't say anything.My PM box icon wasinactive, and still I couldsomehow sense her mentalstate.Atthemomentshewas

taut like a coiled spring,ready to act fast andwithoutmercy.IhadafunnyfeelingIcould see ghosts crowdingbehindherback.

This was a game.Admittedlyeerilyrealisticbutagamenevertheless.

I didn't believe myselfanymore.

Charon was waiting. Iscanned the area. Somethingwaswrong, I could feel it in

my spine, but my sensorsdidn'tdetectanysignaturesatall. This part of the stationwaswellandtrulydead:notasingleactivemarkeramidtheraggedwreckageofits tiltingdeckshangingoverhead.

We had to move on.Still Iwaited,gettingused toourgloomysurroundingsandlistening to my instincts.Anxiety scratched harder atmyheart.

"Liori, take away thechildren. Get them undercover."

Although blind to thedanger, she obeyed. Nothaving received any orders,Arbidofroze,lookingaround.

"Charon?""I don't feel anything,"

headmitted."Coverme."Imovedup front.Both

my mind expander and

metabolic implant were inoverdrive. My left handbegantotingle.IwasalreadyusedtoitsoIsimplymadeamental note. The veryactivationoftheFounders'AIneuronet was already badnews.

You've received a new

level!Whyonearth?Imissed

a step, casting suspiciousglancesaround.Nothing.

Very well. I'd have tolook into it later. There wasnothingwrongwithreceivinga new level even thoughnormallyyouhadtoearnit.Itmusthavebeen someglitchypatchorother.

Icontinuedwalking.The ravaged deck

becamenarrower,curving.Tomy both sides, frayed optic

cables shorted out,illuminatingourway.

I was already a goodfifty paces in front ofeveryone. The scanningradiuswasclear.Notasinglemarker. Itwasprobably timefor me to stop and wait forCharon tocatchup.Thenwecouldinvestigatefurther.

I swung round,realizing this was exactlywhat they wanted me to do.

There was no one aroundhere, but the moment Idisappearedaround thebend,afinewebofscreenedcablesand the forest of upendedbeams left from the ancientdisaster would block mysensors'signal.

Icrouched,pretendingIwas fixing some gearmalfunction while focusingthe scanners by narrowingtheir apertures. Got it. Three

weak signatures above andbehindme.

My sniper sightspromptly kicked in, zoominginonafragmentofthedeck'sbroken ceiling. Now I couldclearlyseethreeOutlawswholay in hiding by the edge ofthe deck. Their levels wererather low: ten to fifteen.Further on, the scanregistered a weak thermalspike.Couldthisbeamodule

withashut-downreactor?Itcouldanditwas.I read their signatures:

not an easy skill but whenyou're cornered, you learnfast.

These Outlaws weren'taswellequippedasmyrecentopponent. I didn't see thepower imprints from theirindividual power shields.Then again, theymight haveswitched them off in order

nottoattractattention.Theirmodulewaswhat

interested me. Under anyother circumstances I'd havetried to capture it, but now Iwas curious: who were theyambushing here? It couldn'tbe us. The only person whoknew about our supposedroutewasJurgen.

Jurgen.How much did I

actuallyknowabouthim?

The situation wasn'tgood. Our potential enemywaslocatedtwofloorsabove.Climbinguptherewouldtakeme some time. Should I takethe risk and tell Liori toproceedwhile controlling thearea fromwhere I nowwas?And if the Outlaws openedfire, would I be able to takethemoutintime?

Toorisky.Suddenly Inoticed two

pale power imprints deep inour rear, above thedemolished stump of thetunnel that we'd just cleared.Snipers. How could I havemissedthem?

I PM'd Liori, Staywhereyouare.

I forwardedmymentalimagestoCharon,tryinghardto visualize them clearly.Hedidn't let me down.Unhurriedly he headed

toward me. Arbido alonestood exposed, lookingaround him without seeinganything. I understood hispredicament. Withoutimplants, his level 1 avatarwasvirtuallyblind.

I sent him a message,ordering him to find coverandlielow.

He was quietlypanicking but the Outlawsdidn'tseemtobeinterestedin

him. They still seemed to bewaiting for something orother.

Charon caught up withme. We exchanged a fewphrases and he disappeareduphill.

Icouldn'tunderstandit.Theyweren't trying to attackus.Andstillthey'dcutoffourescaperoutes.

MyPMboxblinked."Zander, you're not

taking me alive!" Liori'svoicewasshaking.

Was she raving mad?Her words piercedme like astab in theback, thehostilityandcontempt inhervoice sotangible that I too simmeredwithrage."Charon,holdonabit."

By then, he'd alreadydisappeared out of theenemy's line of vision andbegun his perilous ascent,

planning to strike their rearon my command. He nowfroze,fadingintothemangledbackground, awaiting furtherinstructions.

"What's your problem,Liori? Tell me," I strugglednottoyellather.Ididn'teventry to divine the reason forsuchachangeinherattitude.

"I trusted you!" hervoice was a mixture offrustration, contempt and

corneredcourage.Oh,great.She'dchosen

excellent timing to clear theair. Naturally, I was mad ather.Weweresurrounded,forcrissakes! We had to thinkandactfast,not-

Wait up. A badpremonition arose in me.What had I gotten that newlevelfor?

I opened my char'sstats.

Zander. Outlaw. Level

17.Pilot.Now it all began to

click into place. Both theenemy's indecision andLiori's behavior had foundtheir explanation. Had shethought I'd lured the groupintoatrap?Thenagain,whatelse could she have thought?With snipers behind her and

armed enemies in front lyinginwaitnexttoacamouflagedmodule? And a freshly-minted Outlaw blocking herwaytofreedom?

I scanned the logs,looking for the systemmessage in question — theone informing me about thealternativeplotlineactivationand what consequences itcould have for me. I'dactuallyexpectedittohappen

later — only after Eurasia'sarrival — but apparently, itwasn't supposed to happenthat way. By becoming theleader of the group, I musthave crossed the invisibleline, probably triggeringsomeswitchofnoreturn.

I forwarded her thelogs.

I didn't expect her toreplystraightaway.Afterall,itwasmyfault.Ishouldhave

told them. But who couldhave known that my statuschange would be sounexpected?

I contacted theOutlaws. "Who's in charge?"I asked uncivilly, addressingnooneinparticular.Mygearhad to sufficiently impressthem—oratleastsoIhoped.My current level, too, wasslightlyhigherthantheirs.

"Riedok,"theyreplied.

"Holdyoursnipers,willya?"

"Who the fuck areyou?"

"These are Jyrd'sprisoners,"JyrdwasthenameoftheeliteOutlawthatI'dputon my KOS list. "Why, youwannatalktohim?"

"He'soutofrange.""I bet he is. And so is

his respawn point," I adlibbed while estimating the

distance from the station totheasteroidbeltasmillionsofmiles — way too far forinstantcommunications.

Chars like this Jyrdwould play it safe, for sure.His respawnpointmusthavebeen set up in some cozylittle bunker deep in thedepths of one of those spaceboulders.

"Zander, do I knowyou?"Riedokkeptdoubting.

"You should. So areyou letting us through or doyou want me to send youback to your respawn too toimproveyourmemory?"

Hepaused. "Verywell.Youcangonow.I'llaskJyrdaboutyou."

"Please do. He knowsme well," this time I didn'tlie. It would take him sometime to forget his ingloriousdeathatthestation.

IPM'dLiori.Without replying, she

walked out into the open,playing the part of a prisonguard. Her status as amercenaryfittedtherolewellenough not to raise anysuspicions.Thechildrengrewquiet, scrambling along insilence. The emotionalatmosphere was depressing.Arbido joined the group: yetanother frail and harmless

littlefigure.We disappeared uphill

but it was too early to relax.From their prominentposition, the Outlaws couldsee us well. I PM'd Lioriagain, telling her to contactthe others and instruct themtomovetotheRVviatunnelswithout hovering around intheopen.

Icouldalreadysee thatthe mercs would be a

problem. They weren't goingto appreciate myinopportunely timed clanaffiliation.

Charon joined us. Forhim,IwasalwaysaFriendofthe Haash, whatever mystatus.

We walked quickly.Liori didn't speak. I didn'tforceherto.

Theadmins'predictionsseemed to be coming true.

The two Founders' frigateshighjacked by the Pilotssuddenly gunned theirengines, approached thestationandopenedfire.

Once again the stationshuddered with explosions.My field of vision flickeredwith tiny bright dots thatswirled around like anenormousswarmof lightningbugs. Bigger dots startedjoining them. I opened the

combat chat and checked thepredictableinformation.

The station was underattack from the Dargians,Wearongs and the Kamresh.They weren't exactly allies,the chat flashing withmessages about clashesbetween them. Still, theirfeudsweren'tgoingtochangethedevelopers'newscenario.

Our two fighters —Liori's and mine — had

already left their dockingpadsandwereheadingfortheRV on autopilot. This hadbeen a risky decision butwedidn't havemuch choice.Wecouldn'tgobacktofetchthemacross the collapsing station:far too dangerous and waytootime-consuming.

The space battle wasgaining a new fiercemomentum. But this wasn'tourwaranymore.

HadthePilotsclanhadsome clever unhesitantleaders, they could haveunited the surviving players.But judging by themessagesin the combat chat, thecentralized control of thestation was now gone. TheCorporations were busydefending their sectors. TheTechnologists had beenpulverized by the Outlaws.Both the Mechanics and the

Engineers were nowhere tobe seen.Thenetwork rumorsclaimed that they hadretreated to their well-prepared shelters in thestation'sinaccessibledepths.

The only positiveperson among us who didn'tseem to be concerned withfuture unpredictability wasCharon.Helookeddrivenanddetermined. He had put hisfull trust in me which I

wished I could say about theothers. Basically, we were abunch of strangers drawntogether by someoverwhelmingcircumstances.

I took the lead.Honestly,Ijustdidn’twanttospeaktoanyone.Icontinuallyscanned both hemispheres,searchingtherampantedgeofthe station in front. The areawas deserted, free from bothmobs and humans, the weak

radioactivity level being ouronly intrusive companion.Apparently, we were beingspared for some futuretribulations.

Thedeckwas listing toone side. I could discern theoutlineof the thirdhangar infront, the one which hadnever been restored. Myfighter ship contacted us.Liori sent me a quickmessage:apparently,hership

too had safely reached theRV.

Tension grew witheverystepwetook.Wewereabout to face thirty mercs. Iwas pretty sure that they'dhad dealings with theOutlaws in the past so thechange inmystatuswouldn'tbethatmuchofaproblem—but I still had to check thatout. Jurgen too woulddemandanexplanation.

But this wasn't what Iwas worried about.Mercenaries were loners bydefinition. They rarely actedin large groups. In outerspace, two were a team.Naturally,largeraidstootherstations and planets musthave taught themcooperation, but as far as I'dheard, this kind of unitydissipated the moment abattlewasover.Especially if

thelootwasgood.Ilookedback,checking

on thekids.Theywere tired,slowing us downconsiderably. What wasgoingtohappentothemiftheadults began fighting overtheirtrophy,refusingtocometoanagreementonusing theFounders'ship?

Do you think I wastryingtoskinatigerbeforeitwas dead? In a situation like

this,youhad to thinkseveralmovesahead.Oneotherthingworriedme:Ididn'tthinkthemercs would accept theHaash. The local humansdespisedxenomorphs,period.I didn't know yet how I wasgoing to get around this, butone thing I did know: overthelastfewdays,I'dsufferedaseriousmindsetshift.

***

The lopsided deck

ended in an abrupt jaggeddrop.Iraisedawarninghandand stopped by the edge,peering down until I noticedtiny human figures below."Jurgen?"

The few seconds ofanxiouswaitingwere akin toeternity.

"Zander,we'vemadeit.But you owe me an

explanation. Didn't I warnyouabouttheOutlaws?"

"YoumightneedtoaskLioriabout that. Idon't thinkyou'll believe me. Just don'tforget I'm the only personwho knows on which of thetenstationstheFounders'shipis docked," I added a large-caliberargument.

It had only been threehours and I was alreadyexhausted.Thisexostuffwas

by no means a solution. Myribs were aching; I struggledto breathe. I hadn't felt it atfirst but now all the exertionbegantomanifestitself.

I had to suffer insilence. Alien stimulantsweren't a safe option. I justhopedmybodywouldbeableto recuperateduring the two-hourflighttothestation.

WhileLiori and Jurgenset about exchanging

messages, I removedCharon'sandArbido's—yes,his too— slave collars. Thesituation was unpredictable.You never know, we mightend up having to survive onourown.

"Zander,"Jurgenfinallycontactedme. "Forgiveme ifI'm wrong but I still don'tunderstand why your statuschangedlikethis."

"Clans have been

dissolved,"Iansweredcurtly."You'll just have to trust methat I don't mean any harm.Timewilltell,anyway."

"Right. I'll trust you inthemeantime.Nowlisten-"

"Jurgen," I interruptedhim without ceremony, "youneed tounderstand.This raidcould be lethal. Our entirefuture depends upon it. So itcanonlyhaveoneleader."

"Whois-?"

"Me.""Sorry, Zander. Don't

youthinkyou'restilltoo-""I am the raid leader.

That'snon-negotiable.""Check out the mercs'

levels," he suggested grimly."Do you think they'll acceptyou?"

"Leavethattome.""Whatever.Inaminute,

Frieda will take the childrenaboard with those two,

CharonandArbido.""Charon's staying with

me.""You can't! The mercs

willriphimtoshreds.""That'smy business." I

wasn't in the mood to arguewith him. I'd given mysituation enough thought onthe way to the RV. I'd alsoremembered a thing or two Iknewaboutvirtualgameplay.

So you want an

alternativeplotline?Ilookedup,staringintothefathomlessvoidofouterspace.I'llgiveittoyou,Ipromised,addressingthe invisible but omnipresentforce.

Two cargo modulessilentlyhoveintoviewabovethe station's ragged edge.Jesus. This was even moreprimitive thanI'dexpected:acouple of cargo containerswitha jury-riggedpropulsion

system and something thatvaguely resembled a vitrifiedcockpit.

This was a disaster.Would these things evenmakeittothestation?Havingsaid that, they should. Youcould fly a soapbox in outerspace if necessary, providedyou didn't have to enter anatmosphere. The containerswere crude and comfortless:justsomeseatsweldedtothe

floor. Better that thannothing,Isuppose.

Cautiously the childrenclambered inside and tooktheir places. Liori buckledthem in while instructingArbido who was to fly withthekids.

Charon and I took ourplaces in the other"spacecraft".

***

Ourbriefflightbrought

no surprises. Jurgencontrolled it well. In theabsenceofG-forceabsorbers,maneuvering this rust buckettook a lot of skill. I had toreview our schedule. Ourjourney to the station wouldtake at least six or sevenhours.

Actually, I wasn't yetsure the raid would transpire

afterall.I sensed a gentle

deceleration. We'd arrived.Thecontainer'sunpressurizeddoorshudderedopen.

Liori, Charon andmyself stepped out, findingourselves insideanenormoushangar.

Thirty-two mercenariesand three pilotswere alreadythere,castingcuriouslooksatus.

I joined the group'slocal network. Reality fadedas human faces filled mymentalview.

I didn't study theirexpressions. They all lookedgrim and disinterested. Imetafewstaresthatheldnothingbutadisdainfulpromise: justwait till you take us there,andthenyou'retoast.

I wasn't at all happywith their attitude. I wasn't

going to watch my back fortherestofmylife."Whichofyou arrived with the FirstColonialFleet?"

Not a muscle twitchedon their gloomy faces. Somelips curled in a smirk. Themercs were strong. They'dbeen in the game for at leastthree or four years and not asingle one of them hadboughtintoPhantomServer'sauthenticity.

I PM'd each of thempersonally, quoting the Wikiupdate and adding my ownthoughts on the significanceofneuroimplantsandourownroleasguineapigs.

It didn't look as if I'dtold them something new asfar as AI neuronet moduleswereconcerned.ButtheWikiupdate was a shock foreveryone. Yeah right, theywere too experienced to

bother to check such newbsources.

I didn't have to explainwhat it meant to all of us.Their expressions changed,cold confidence giving wayto reserved curiosity as theyeyed me with the unaskedquestion, So what do we donext?

They realized thatwhoeverstayedonArguswasdoomed.Whattheydidn'tyet

realizewasthatourescapetothe neighboring stationwouldn't save us from thetotalpurge.

I forwarded them thelogs of the admins' offer andmyresponsetothem.

Notallofthemgraspedit at once. Some eyes glazedover as if the mercs werebusy checking Argus'agonizing network forconfirmation of what they'd

justlearned.Predictably, they found

none.Again all eyeswereon

me."I canprove it," I said.

"I can do it now. One thing,though.Youneedtomakeupyour minds, now. I want nohassles in the future — nogrudges, no backpedaling.Agreed?"

My words still seemed

tofallondeafears."I was the one who

activated the alternative plotline. Whoever wants to joinme,bemyguest,"Ipointedatan old paint marker stillvisible on the hangar floor."If you'rewithme, step overit.Thatwillmeanyouacceptmeasyourraidleader.Ifourmission is a success, I willtake command of the ship.This is the only invitation

you'll get. Conditions arenon-negotiable. That appliestoeveryone!"

Jurgen and Friedalooked pretty lost. Myarguments meant nothing tothem: stripped of their real-lifememory,thetwocouldn'teven fathom their actualmeaning.

Liori, however, seemedto grasp everything perfectlywell.

She'd been leftwithnochoice. She must havethought I was putting herunder pressure. But still, shewas the first to cross thepaintedlineandstandnexttome.

Asurprisedmurmurranthrough this disorganizedbunch of seasoned warriors.Theirfacesdropped.

Jurgengavemetheevileye. Suddenly he stepped

forwardandstoodnexttome,apparentlywishingtocallmybluff.

Frieda startled, staringathiminhorror.

I knew very well whatwashappening.Itcouldn'tbeany other way. A singleplayer may initiate a certaindevelopment, but it wouldaffectthelivesofmany.

I turned my head toreadtheirmarkers.

Liori.Outlaw.Level51.

Pilot.Jurgen. Outlaw. Level

43.Technologist.Charon. Outlaw. Level

23.SentientXenomorph.We had become

wrenches in theworksof thegame.

Wewere the Alts. Theones capable of giving this

worlditsalternativehistory.Whether that history

would be long enough torecount depended on thenumbers of the mercs who'dcrosstheline.

Their eyes were filledwith some sort ofsuperstitious fear—but theyalso glinted with hope. Theyhad enough experience toknow what it meant to goagainsttheflow.

Their ranks quivered.Fivemorestoodnexttome.

I hurried to put theirnicknamesona special list. Ihad my reasons to questionthe others' sincerity. Theymust have already realizedthat joining the alternativeplot line would save themfrom immediate eliminationby the developers; and stilltheysatonthefence,makingmental calculations—which

meantthattheirloyaltywouldbe of the I'll join him andthenwe'llseekind.

I wasn't happy withthat. My responsibility wastoohighasitwas.

The rest of the mercsbegan to cross the line,singularly and in groups,takingtheirplacesnexttome.

These were the onlyfighters we had. Therewouldn'tbeothers.Thefuture

was nebulous but at least itwas in our handsnow. It layin our intentions and ouractions.

ChapterSeven

PhantomServer.OuterSpace

Our journey to thestationtookeighthours.

CharonandItookturnsflying our craft. Its slowspeed and smoothmaneuvering (these cargomodules would havedisintegrated otherwise) evenallowedmetotakeanap.Butnowitwastimetoact.

I took the controls.Consideringweonlyhadfivefighter craft, a blatant entry

waswaytoorisky.Wehadtoact inconspicuously,collecting whateverinformation we could, andthen try to come up with aplanofaction.

Thetwocargomoduleschangedtheircourse,movingtoward the coordinates I'dordered. While Jurgen andFrieda gingerly maneuveredtheir craft, they remainedwithin our line of vision

meaning we could maintainlasercommunication.

Ikilledtheengines.Theotherpilotsfollowedsuit.Wecoasted on, keeping a lowprofilewhilegatheringintel.

Until now, everythingwasquiet.Noone seemed tohavenoticedourapproach tothe station. I used the localnetworktoforwardtheothersthescreenshotsI'dmadethreeweeksago.Itriedtodrawthe

mercs'attentiontotheGuidesas our most mysterious andpotentially dangerousopponents. I had noinformationaboutthematall,secretlyhopingthatthemercsmight know something. Buttheymaintained grim silenceastheylistenedtomymeagerexplanations.

Unexpectedly, Friedajoinedin.

Apart from her other

specializations, she alsopossessed the uniqueprofessionof exotechnologistwhich demanded anextremely rare combinationof abilities and skills like I'dnevermetbefore.

I told everyone aboutthementalpressureI'dsensedin theGuides'presencewhenI'd encountered them duringtheDargianraid.

Having listened to my

explanations, Friedapublished several images onthe localnetwork.Youcoulddistinctly see five livingdomes thatshielded theruinsofamineonsomeasteroidorother.Bythelooksofit,thesedomelike creatures couldsurvive in a vacuum atfreezingcosmictemperatures.The medusa-like beingsemitted a subdued glow.Theirtranslucentbodieswere

threaded with capillaryenergy channels. Protectivepower fields shimmeredaroundeachofthem.

"Zander, why did youthink that it was the Guideswho controlled theDargians?"Friedaasked.

"Dunno. That's what Ithought."

"TheGuides is a ratherdatednameforwhatwenowcalltheEmgles.Theyareasa

matter of fact a presentientexobiological life form," shebegantoexplicate."Theylivein the atmosphere of the gasgiant, just like theWearongsdo. When the First ColonialFleet had just arrived in thisstar system, you could seethemvirtuallyateveryoneofthe Founders' stations. TheDargiansused themas livingdomeshields."

Icompared themto the

screenshots I'd taken. Thoseon the pics differedconsiderably in a number ofways.They'dapparentlybeencybergized.IpointedthisfactouttoFriedabutyoucouldn'tconfusehersoeasily.

"It must have been theDargians who did this," shesaid. "TheEmgles are strongand fiercely independentcreatures but they can beeasily tamed during the

earlier stages of theirdevelopment. Young Emglesdevelop a strong bond withtheir owners provided they'rewelltreated."

I struggled to imagineanyone "taming" a giganticmedusa from outer space.Still,Friedainsisted,

"It's their empathicnature that makes Emgles sosusceptible. They're naturallycurious. The adult ones can

be described as defendersrather than aggressors. Theirbodies may look fragile butthey are in fact uniquebiological reactors refinedthrough evolution, completewithanintegratedpowerfieldgenerator. You just can'tsurvive in the gas giant'satmospherewithoutone."

"But how about theplanet's enormous pressure?"I insisted. "And how do the

Dargians even manage todomesticatethem?"

"They catch the youngones during the short periodwhen they rise to the toplayers of the atmosphere tobenefit from the abundantsolar energy," she explained."The implant you noticedapparently points at theDargians' inability toestablish positive mnemoniccontact with them. So they

use technology to enslavethem, turning them intodangerous and aggressivecreatures.Theyusesurgerytoremove certain body parts,replacingthemwithimplants.Such barbaric modificationhas one grave side effect. Itarrests theirdevelopment.Asa rule, those Emgles whichare unlucky enough to betrapped stop growing anddon'tlivelongafterward."

"Does that mean thatthose I saw were...teenagers?"

"Judging by thepictures, they were," Friedaanswered.

"And can you tell mehowIcandealwiththem?"

"The most importantthing is, you should neverprovokethemortrytoattackthemfirst."

"Yeah,right,"themercs

raised their sarcastic voices."Just sit there and wait tillthey send us to our respawnpoints?" Their indignationwasquiteunderstandable.

"The Emgles neverattack anyone first," Friedainsisted. "You mustunderstand. The Dargianshave hurt them a lot. If wetreat themdifferently, they'reboundtonoticeit.Also, theyare very sensitive to mental

images," she added. "Imighttry and contact themmnemonically."

Somehow I had mydoubts. "What if it doesn'twork? How close do youneedtogettotheminordertomake sure they can hearyou?"

"Imustgetwithin theirdirect line of vision," shesaid.

I shook my head. The

Dargians weren't that stupid.They must have already putthe station on high alert andtaken additional securitymeasures both on theFounders' ship and at thestation's living quarters.Getting close to them wasn'tgoingtobeatalleasy.

As for the mercs, theircombined opinionwas prettyclear: theonlyway tohandleany Wearong creatures was

byshootingtokill.I contacted Jurgen.

"Whatdoyouthink?""We could use the

Emgles at some later date, Isuppose. I could look intotheirimplantcontrols."

That got me thinking."Can't we disable theirimplantssomehow?"

"We probably could.They'reonlytechnology,afterall. But it might take some

time. We still don't knowtheir power shield'sfrequencies.AsfarasIknow,theymayvary."

I couldn't believe myears. "You mean eachcreature has its own uniquefrequency?"

"It does and it can alsovary its parameters," Jurgenconfirmed my worstsuspicions. "I suggest youlistentowhatFrieda'ssaying.

The Emgles are known fortheir powerful empathy. Herideajustmightwork."

"Very well. Let's waitfor thereconresultsandthenwe'lldecide."

***

Themodulesleftforthe

location I'd pinpointed whilewedrifted, collecting intel inpassive reception mode,

studying any signatures andwatchingthechosensectorofthe station's surface viaoptical multiplayer,comparingandcombiningthedatareceived.

TheDargiansseemedtobecontinuingtheirrestorationworks on the Founders'starship. This was the onlyadvantage we currently had.The Haash were busyworking there — and by

liberating them, we weregoing to get ourselves bothsome loyal allies and accessto the unique ancient ship'scontrols.

As for the rest, thingsweren't as rosy. Our sensorsdetected ten space defenseunits that now encircled thestation, installed in thebetterpreserved hull structures. Iwas pretty sure such areinforcement to their

defenseshadeverythingtodowith thedevelopmentsof thelast few days. About fiftycombat drones patrolled allaccesses to the Founders'ship. Five Emgles envelopedits carcass, covering thelarger holes and controllingthemainairlock.

My eyes hurt from allthe tiny shapes of Dargians.There had to be at least ahundredofthem.

Astheraidleader,Ihadto come up with the correcttactic,takingeverydetailintoconsideration. In normalgameplay, mopping up alocationisarathersimpleandstraightforward thing. Eachmob has its aggro radius.When pulled correctly, theycanbetakenoutbyonesandtwos or in small groups,allowing you to advancetoward your goal slowly but

surely.Hereandnowitwasall

different. Only the dronescould qualify as NPCs —they and also the spacedefense systems. TheDargians' potential reactionsremained a mystery. In theworst-casescenario,they'dbeable to quickly assess thedangerandkillalltheHaash,then barricade themselves inthe ship.Thiswas something

wecouldn'tallowtohappen.Then there were the

Emgles. These were capableof foiling any amount of thebest-laid plans timed toperfection. How were theygoing to react to our attack?Would they join in battle toconfront our fighters? Orwouldtheycontinueblockingallentrytotheship?

I knew nothing aboutthis empathy thing. I could

just about grasp its meaningthankstoFrieda'sexplanationbutIwasn'tsureIwouldtrustitasacombattechnique.

I kept watching,analyzing and mulling overwhatIwasseeing.

There were just toomany Dargians there. Eventhough the Haash were sureto take our side, this wasgoing to be one desperatebattle.

Whoeverwantedtowinhadtoensurecontroloverallrespawn points and delayenemy respawning whenkilledbyaplayer.Thesetwopointswereparamount.

I absolutely had tospeak to Jurgen but themodules had already left ourline of vision, making lasercommunicationsimpossible.

"Zander?" Liori PM'dme viamymnemonic inbox.

"We don't have enoughstrengthtoattackthestation."

"So what do yousuggest?"

"The station isenormous. Ifwe find a placethat's sealed andundamaged..."

I knew of course shewasn't worried about herself.Still,Iinsisted,"Ifwewanttosurvive, we need to take theship."

"Impossible," sheobviously had no illusionsabout our situation. "Tenspace defense units won't letyou anywhere near thestation."

"Thatwe'reyet tosee,"I replied. My plan of attackwas admittedly daringborderingon insane.But thiswas something the Dargiansdefinitelydidn'texpect.

IsentmyideatoLiori.

She paused, weighingupalltheprosandcons."Youknowwhat,Zander? Itmightjustwork,"Idetectedasparkof hope in her voice. "Who'sgonnadoit?"

"YouandI.""We need to think

everymaneuver through.Areyou that sure of the Haashprisoners?" I could hear thatshe'd alreadybought intomyidea,preparedtotaketherisk

ifnecessary."I am. They've been

awaitingmyreturn."The mercs were

apparently struggling to puttheirtrustinxenomorphs.Alltheir experience screamedotherwise.Still,Ididn'tsufferfromthesamekindofphobiaso I didn't give in to theirunspoken pressure. I told thethreepilotstostayputwithinthe path of their drift, out of

the Dargian scanners' range,and towatchandperformallthe necessary calculations.Liori and I were going tofollow the cargo modules.CharonandIstillhadworktodoonourcraft;besides,IhadafewquestionstoaskJurgen.His answer might decide theoutcome of the upcomingcombat.

"Zander.""Yes?"

Shedidn'tsayanything.Liori and I seemed to havesome heavy chemistry goingon.Ijustcouldn'thelpit.Thefeeling had swept over me,suddenandsharp.

She never answered.Averting her gaze, sheswitched to the commoncommunicationschannel.

***

A toxic haze cloudedourview.

The once-icy floor ofthe enormous hall was nowcovered in pools of thawingwater.

I could see thexenomorphs' hunchedsilhouettes in the distance.Their wailing sobs echoedfromafar.

Thetwocargomodulesmoved slowly in, their

landing supports jolting asthey touched the ancientdeck, damping theirvibrations.

The scanning radiuswas clear. I didn't count theKickers' signatures: theycouldn't scramble away fromthescenefastenough.

There is was, my firstrespawnpoint.Imadeoutthefamiliar green glow in thedistance. The mound of

radioactive ore had to lie inthatdirection.

The mercsdisembarked, dispersing tosetupaperimeter.

The melting ice on thefloor was flecked with darkblood.Ipointedatit,markingtherespawnpoint.

Jurgen sprang intoactionandscanned theentiredepthof thefloor."Got it!Astationary respawn device.

Fully functional. It's all asyousaiditwouldbe,Zander."

Ibetitwas.HowcouldIeverforgetthisplace.

IwalkedovertoJurgen."Mind telling me how youdetectedit?"

Hesentmeascreenshotofhisinterface.

I studied it, comparingit with mine. Apparently, Itoo had a similar scannerinstalled in my suit. When I

activated it, an inscriptionread,

Search of active power

imprintsinitiatedJust below, three

buttonslitup:Scan the device's

frequencyCreateabindpointScan the frequencyand

resetyourpersonalmarkerI'd love to know what

Jurgen thought aboutrespawning, considering thathe believed himself to be inreal life. I also wanted toknow why setting up arespawnpointdemandedsuchcomplex equipment. Whywould the game designerswaste time on creatingmeticulous detail deep inside

the deck flooring where noonewasevergoingtoseeit?They should have investedtheireffortinimprovingtheirinteriordesigns.

"Jurgen?Did your clantry to study the resurrectionmechanism?" I purposefullyavoidedcallingitarespawn.

"We did. With littleresults. You need tounderstand, Zander: theFounders were tens of

thousands of years ahead ofus.Theysolvedthemolecularreplicationproblem.Buttheirequipment is extremelycomplicated; it takesawholelotofenergyandawealthofbiological supplies.Which iswhy functioning respawnpoints are very few and farbetween."

So that's how heunderstood something assimple as a respawn trigger.

Never mind. Pointless tryingtoreasonwithhim.

That got me thinking.Would my top-of-the-rangescanners be able to detectother respawn points in thevicinity?

Istartedfiddlingaroundwiththeiroptions.

Several identicalmarkings appeared at equaldistances from my currentlocation.Mostofthemarkers

were red. Only two of thedetected devices glowedemerald.Bothweredefinitelylocation-bound: one was setup in the prison block, theotherrightundermyfeet.

Another weak dullgreen light came on screenwith a considerable delay inthe vicinity of the Dargian-occupied area, disrupting theothers' perfect symmetry. Achillranupmyspine.Itdidn't

lookgood.Things began clicking

intoplace.Isuddenlyrealizedwhy Rash had managed toavoid decompression andthrown a pursuit together soquickly.Hehadn’trespawnedinthedecompressedarea.

I searched through thelogslookingfortherecordofCharon'sandmyescape.Justas I suspected, the Dargianstoo had a respawn delay of

onlytenminutes(whenkilledbyaplayer).Butworstofallwas this wretched greenmarker whose locationcoincidedwiththepositionoftheFounders'ship.

"Jurgen? Take a look,"Iforwardedhimthelogs.

He turned noticeablypale. "The Dargians musthave amobile respawn pointdevice," he said bitterly. "Asuper rare artifact! Zander,"

he switched over to theencrypted communicationschannel, "I hope youunderstand that this rendersour entire plan useless? TheDargians will be respawningright here on board thestarship!"

"Woulditbepossibletoblock their personal markerssomehow?"

He shook his head. "Idon'tthinkso.Todothat,you

might need to recreateGehenna-like conditions, andeventhen..."

"There must be asolution,surely!"

"Thereis.We'llhavetodestroy the artifact," Jurgensaidgrudgingly.

What a predicament.Why did it have to get socomplicated?

"Jurgen, and what if Icould get you its blueprints?

Do you think you could usethemtorecreatetheartifactatalaterdate?"

He sat up. "I suppose Icould try. I can't promiseanything, though. I just don'tunderstand how you can getthem."

"DoyouhaveascannerIcoulduse?"

"As a matter of fact, Ido. A professional one. It'sbuilt into my gear. It can

createadetailedmodelofanytechnological artifact in amatterofminutes."

"I'm afraid, you mighthave to part with it for awhile."

"Mind telling me yourplan?"

"I will, don't worry.First I'd like you to tell mewhat can happen if theartifactisdestroyed."

"TheDargians'personal

markerswillnolongerbetiedto this particular device. Sothe next time they respawn,they'll be redirected to thenearest functioning respawnpoint."

"You mean, here?" Ipointed at the prison blockmarker.

"Exactly.""And if we manage,

hypothetically, to block thisonetoo?"

I could read the silentquestion inhis eyes,How onearthcanwedothat?

I didn't say anything.Hesighedandpointedbelow,"Then their respawn pointwillberelocateddownhere."

I removed my powerbelt and laid it on the floor,thenturneditbackon."Haveyougotasignal?"

"I have but... no, wait!Zander,you'reagenius!This

is how we can block theirsignals! Wait a bit," heactivated his scanner andperformed some calculations,thenturnedtome.Helookeda different man. "Back inGehenna, you stood right inthe respawn point,remember? And both of usresurrected successfullywithin your power shield—Arbidoandmyself!"

"OfcourseIremember.

That'swhyI'maskingyou."His sunken cheeks

flushed with red blotches."Butifyouchangethepowerfield's settings, theywon't letthesignalthrough."

"But how about usthen?"

"Weneedtochangeourpersonal marker settingsaccordingly.Inthatcasewe'llstillbeabletorespawn—butnottheDargians!"

"You mean they won'tbeabletorespawnatall?"

"Yes, of course theywill!" he answered excitedly."They will simply beredirectedfurtheron.Noideawhereto!Youcanseethatalltheotherrespawndevicesaremarked as out of order. I'mprettysurethey'llfindonebutit'll have to be miles andmiles away, probablysomewhere in the ransacked

partofthestation.""YoumeanaGehenna-

type respawn purgatory?" Igavehimanevilgrin.

"Possible. In any case,itwouldtakethemquitesometimetorejointhebattle."

Which was exactlywhat I wanted to hear. Therestwasacademic:wehadtobreach their defenses, seizetheprisonblockandfightourwaytotheartifact.

"You can put your beltbackon,"Jurgencommanded,his thoughts taking the rightdirection. "I'm going to useour clan'sgenerators.They'reeasierformetoreset.Doyouunderstandthatifitworkswemightnotneedtodestroytheartifact?"

YoubetIdid.Amobilerespawnpoint

in combination with theFounders' starship would

allow us to take on theUniverse!

***

Darkness swirled

aroundus.An intense beam of

light cut through the toxichaze and formed a dome-shaped shield around us asJurgenswitchedonthepowerfield generator. You could

actually walk through it.Once we'd changed thesettings, it might still bebreached andwould offer noprotectionfrombullets.Whatit would do though, is blocktheFounders'frequencies.

Liori walked over tome. She too must havenoticed the change in theshield's parameters. "What'sgoingon?"

"Just a nasty surprise

fortheDargians."Icluedher inabout the

changessuggestedbyJurgen.Shelistenedclosely.

"So this is going to beourrespawnpoint,then?"sheasked.

"Hopefully, a backupone. The main one I plan toset up in the prison block.Jurgen is now updating ourpersonal markers. Ourtransmitters now work in

synch with the power shieldwhich will bounce all otherincomingrespawnrequests."

Liori looked tense andsubdued. You could seesomething was gnawing ather. Our eyes met and I feltlostinthedepthsofhergaze.Wewerephysicallydrawntoeach other, there was nodoubt about it, and still Icould sense this icyestrangementinherthatshe'd

adapted in order to hideherselffromotherpeople.

She must have beenbetrayed. Repeatedly so. Icould feel that. Again I hadthis eerie feeling of etherealfigures crowding behind herback. She knew somethingabout Phantom Server that Ihadn't even begun to fathomout. That's what gnawed ather; that's what didn't allowhertobreathefreely.

Liori,whoareyou?She was the first to

averthergaze."Are you scared?" I

asked."Sorry, Zander. Not

now. Maybe later if wesurvive..." she trailedoff andswungaroundtoheadforoneofthecargomodules.IcouldseeArbidopeeringanxiouslyoutofit.

I watched her leave. I

wasscaredtoo.ThePhantomServer's authenticity levelswerefrightening.Manyofuswouldn'tcomebackfromthisbattle. Our respawningchanceswerefifty-fifty.

Iforcedmymindawayfrom these depressingthoughts. We were almostdonewithprepwork.Timetosetcombatobjectives.

Frieda walked over tome."Thechildrenareasleep,"

she said. "I've set their suits'life support to rest mode. Idon't want them to see usrespawn. It might not be aprettysight."

I nodded myagreement.Goodidea.

"I'd like to join thesnipers,"sheadded."MayI?"

I knew what hadprompted thisdecision. "Youcan, but on one condition.You mustn't attract attention

toyourselfuntilweworkouttheirdefensesystems."

"Zander,howaboutmymnemotechexperience?Icandistract the Emgles and lurethemawayfromtheship."

"These Emgles arecybergized," I said. "Theyobey the Dargians andmaintain permanentcommunication with them.Don'tthey?"

"Yeah," she admitted

half-heartedly."Which is why you

aren't going to do anythinguntil we destroy theirdefenses."

"ButIcould-""Our mission has been

choreographed to perfection.This isn't the right time toexperiment. The Dargiansmustn't suspect anything.Thisismylastword."

Iwasn't going to argue

with her. An order was anorder. She stared at me,looking hurt, but I'd alreadyswitched over to the mercs'network making it clear thatourconversationwasover.

We were faced with averydifficulttask.Themercswere too few. They wouldhavetoworkinsmallgroups.I couldn't be everywhere,either, which meant that Iwouldn'tbeabletomonitora

considerable part of theaction.

Oh well. Beingprofessionals, they had tounderstand that this was anall-or-nothinggame.

Ten of them were thesnipers who had to deployimmediately, takingpositionson the towering structuresaroundtheFounders'starship.They would commence onmy command, taking out the

Dargians and depleting theirnumbers.

Jurgen would lead thetwenty-strong assault group.Their objective was to stormtheDargian base, then eitherblock or destroy the respawnequipment in the prisonblock.

The three mosttrustworthy mercsrecommended by Liori weregoing to stay here, guarding

the modules andadministering first aid to thewounded. They would havethe use of a couple of repairrobots as well as access topower units and a stock ofsparepartsforstandardgear.

Once I was doneissuing orders, I askedCharontoseeme.IwasbusymetingoutmyinstructionstohimwhenJurgenwalkedovertousandhandedhimaplain

tubefilledwithsilverypaste:respawn markers for theremaining Haash. I'm notgoing to bore you with itsprinciples; let's just say thepaste contained some nano-signaltransmitters.

ImadesurethatJurgenand Charon successfullyfound common ground, thencontacted our guards for onelastwarning,

"The Haash are our

allies. When they respawn,you'd better behave yourself.Ifanyofyoudoesn'tthinkhecan overcome hisxenophobia,he'dbettersaysonow!"

They frowned but saidnothing. I could see alreadythat our victory might onlycreatemoreproblemsforme.

Once again I lookedoverallthecurrentobjectivesand checked everyone's

positions, then walked backtomy ship. There I removedmy helmet and handed it toJurgen. "We'll have to installyour scanner and my collarcontroller into Charon'shelmet."

"You do realize it's arisk,don'tyou?"hePM'dme.

"I'm pretty sure ofhim."

Jurgen was paranoidaboutanyonehedidn'tknow.

Icouldn'tblamehimbutwe'dall have to adapt to thechanges. Ifwe survived, thatis."Arbido!"

Hearing his name, thegoblin peeked from behindthecargocontainer'shatch.

"How's it going?" Iaskedhim.

"The children, youmean? They're asleep. Theymustbetired.Wanttohavealook?"

"It's all right. Let themsleep. You sure you'llmanage?"

"I've got a grandsonbackinreallife,"headmitted."Imisshim."

Oh really? SomehowI'd always thoughthehadnofamily. Actually, I used tothinkthatmoneywastheonlythingheloved.

***

Thehatchhissedshut.I confidently took off.

The ship hovered over thedeck. We'd had a secondpilot'sseatforCharonthrowntogether.Nowwesatbacktoback.

I activated a practicedrone mounted on the ship'shull. Immediately the ship'srecognizable outline andunique signature changed.

Nowboth its appearanceandpower imprint were identicaltothoseofastandardCondor.

Lioritookoffnext.The deck slowly fell

away.Iacceleratedsmoothly,steering toward the greenradioactive glow of theenormousholeformedbytheancient ship's collapse ontothestation.

Once at some distancefrom the station, I changed

my ship's course and killedthe engines, drifting as Ientered the data to calculatethe upcoming maneuver.Charon wheezed,concentrated. I didn't distracthim, both our stares focusedon the cockpit's onlyfunctioning holographicscreen.

The Founders' starshipresembled an enormouselectric ray thatwas clinging

tothestation'shull,resting.The scampering figures

oftheDargiansandtheHaashlooked tiny in comparison.They were busy cutting outchunks of cargonite andcarrying its gleamingdiamond-shapedpiecestoandfro, using them to patch upthegapingholes in the ship'shull.

Next to them, theEmgles looked impressive—

and dangerous. Somehow Icouldn't see these gas planetdwellers as innocent victimsworthy of our sympathy theway Frieda seemed tobelieve. Their job was toblock access to the starship,checkingeveryonewhodaredapproach it, both DargiansandtheHaash.

The data transfer wascompleted. The countdownkicked in. The navigation

computers reported theirreadiness.

It was our turn. Liori'sandmine.

My mind expanderwent into overdrive, makingmeonewiththeship.

I initiated cruise thrust,leaving the drift point first.After a pause, Liori repeatedmy maneuver. We were oncourse. I manipulated thethrusters, sending my ship

into a seeminglyuncontrollablespin.

Liori kept laggingbehind.

Ourships'reactorswerebarelyglowingatfivepercentof their power. Both theinterference created by oursecuritysystemsand the tailsof rarefiedgas trailing inourwake served to convince ourenemythattheywerelookingat two Condors, shot down

andpilotless,theircrewslonggone to their respawnpoints.Twodriftingabandonedcraftwhich presented no threatwhatsoever.

The Dargians couldn'tpossiblyignoreatastymorsellike that. They had to viewthis as a minor but welcomebyproduct of the still ragingbattleforArgus.

Their drones couldn'tget close enough to us. I

could imagine how we musthavelookedintheirscanners:the occasional flickeringbetrayed the presence of ourpower fields and our laserturrets seemingly still inworking order. No, the slavedrivers wouldn't risk theirdrones: they'd wait until thetwo "Condors" drifted closerand rammed into the station.In that case, our ships'equipment would attempt to

cushion the impactwith theirpowershields,depletingtheirbatteries. Then you couldcatch these two powerlessbirdswithyourbarehands.

Aha, I could see themrushing about! They musthave worked out my course.Liori'sshiplaggedfarbehind,tempting the Dargians tofocus on mine. Excellent.Their defenses remainedsilent while the Dargians

hurried to clear a small areanot far from the Founders'ship. They then lugged somegenerators there to create amakeshift accelerationabsorber and ensure that theships didn't sustain muchdamage or bounce back intoouterspace.

Thestationwasrapidlygrowing.My ship's spin wasby no means uncontrollable,even if it may have seemed

so. Its trajectory wasmeticulously choreographed,targeting itsaftas the impactsurface. The Dargiansscrambled away, leaving theHaash to operate thegenerators. Excellent. Just aswe'dplanned.Liori'sshipwasaboutfivehundredfeetaboveme.

Icrashed.The shield's power

plummeted. The hatches of

the main airlock and thecargo holds "failed"simultaneously. Charonemerged, forced out by theairflow, while I released thechemicals from the reactor'scooling system, burying theareainthicktoxicfog.

Allthishadtakenbutacouple of seconds. My shipbounced off, depressurized.Any outside observer wasobliged to conclude that the

craft had fallen apart onimpact.

I glimpsed thesilhouettes of twoHaash justnext to the toxic cloud: theyhurried to pull Charon withhis easily recognizablepersonal marker away fromdanger.

He'd done it. He waswith his own now. And theDargians were none thewiser.

Timetoengage.I released the power

from the reserve batteries. Itsurged down the circuits,charging up the shields. Thereactorwasquicklyregainingits capabilities. The engineskicked in. Liori's Condormirrored my maneuver withperfect timing. We sped upand charged at the nearestdefenseunits.

Thepositionsofplasma

generators and laser batterieswerelocatedhigherandwereaimed at outer space. In thissituation they proved utterlyuseless against our lightningattack. The Dargians' desireto capture our ships hadbackfiredonthem.

Wefiredabroadsideatclose range. The two neareststructures erupted in flameswhile Liori and I werealready speeding off,

maneuvering dangerouslyclose to the hull amid themolten peaks of itstechnoscape.

Two heavy lasers firedafter us, followed by twodischarges of plasmagenerators. Their guidancesystems locked us in theirsights, following our ships,bathing them in theirscanners'waves,allthewhilehopingtoshootthemdownin

fullmaneuver.Liori threwherCondor

into a narrow ravine formedby two monolithic blocks ofthestation'sarmor.Irepeatedher maneuver albeit not asgracefully, barely avoiding acollisionasIfellintoplaceasherwingman.Weshotoutofthe ravine and banked,changingcourse,beginninganewattack.

Now all their defense

systems were upon us. TheDargians were angry — butstilluncomprehending.

We kept evading theirfire.

Our shields pulsated,draining the batteries, but I'dalready noticed three brightdots rapidly approachingthrough space. This was awing of Condors zeroing inontheirhighlightedtargets.

They fired their first

salvoatlongrange,sweepingaway the locator modules. Iwatched a tall latticed towertilt to one side anddisintegrate.

Three more hullstructures cascaded withmoltensteel.

We passed them headon, turned around andchargedagain.

TheDargiansscattered,desperate to leave the open

area. Only a few headed forthe Founders' starship, thebulkofthemholingupintheopenings cut in the station'shull.

The surviving defensemodules switched to curtainfire. They critted one of theCondorswhichplungedintoachaotic spin, ramming thestationinaballoffire.

Liori and I targeted theplasma generators using this

already-tested scheme: sheremoved the shields while Ifiredmypulseguns.

Got him! My missilessliced through the armoredhull structure, its powerfulblast tearingup theDargians'firing position from theinside. It fell apart in aswelling cloud of red-hotfragments like a heap ofcrimson autumn leaveswhenyoukickthem.

Panic set in among theDargians. Their spacedefenses had been destroyed.What else would theseunknowninvadersdo?

They rushed aroundlike headless chickens. Littlewonder: thefour fightercrafthovering overhead meanttheirdeathsentence.

Suddenly we saw theEmgles leave the Founders'ship. They soared up and

headedforus."Frieda — your turn!"

Instinctively I banked, tryingtoavoidacollision.Toolate.One of the Emgleseffortlesslycaughtmeupandrammedme.Theshieldsself-destructed,meltingthehullofmy ship. I lost control. Thelast thing I saw were theshreds of some translucentsubstance veined with powerchannels, flying everywhere.

Then a shuddering impactknockedmeout.

***

Myheavyarmored suit

and the secure pilot seat hadsavedmefromrespawning.

My ship rammed thestation not far from theFounders'craft.

I stared at the dyingscreens watching two more

Condors go down. Obeyingthe Dargians' command, theEmgles had sacrificedthemselves, bringing themdown.

Liori was the only onewho'd managed to escapetheir assault. She was nowbusy taking her damagedCondor toward the station'sdesertedarea, trying toshakeofftwomoreEmgleschasingher.

I tried to move. Mygear'smuscleenhancerswereworking.Myribsachedfrommy scuffle with the Outlaw.My lip bled from when I'dbittenitonimpact.

My ship wascompletely deformed, itsstern squashed. I had to usethe emergency exit locatedfore. It opened easily butprovedabittoosmallformynew suit. I had to force my

waythrough.I took cover behind a

massive weapons' stanchionand contacted the others."Drake?"

The only thing I knewabout the mercs were theirnames — not all of themeven. We'd never had thechance to get to know eachother.

"In position," thesnipers' leader replied.

"Ready for action. Zander,twoEmglesarechasingLiori.There was nothing Friedacoulddo."

"I saw it. Wait for myorders,"Iswitchedovertothesecond group's combat chat."Jurgen?"

"Inposition.""Commence the

assault."Not far from where I

was, the Dargians began

scrambling out of a gapinghole in the station's hull,hurrying to vacate theirtemporary shelter. They'dalready recovered from theshock and taken stock of thesituation, impatient to geteven with the survivingpilots.Withtheirlevels30to40, excellent gear and anearby respawn point onboard the ancient starship,they had absolutely nothing

tofear.I knew it, too.

"Charon?"Silence. His dedicated

channel icon blinkedaimlessly.Hewasn'tthere.

A surge of energy hitthe surface nearby, spewingfragments of hull structuresinto outer space. This wasJurgen's group storming theslavedrivers'base.

AboutadozenDargians

remained within my field ofview. I scanned the area —no Haash around. Whichmeantthatnotallwaslost.IfCharon and his people hadmanagedtoretreatwithinthestarship, it meant anotherunpleasant surprise for theslave drivers. In themeantime,theywouldn'tgetarespawnoutofme.

My gear'smanipulatorsclenched the mauled

weapons.Iaimedatthefloorunder the Dargians' feet andactivatedmyintegratedright-armpulsegun.

The impacts rippedthrough the hull, striking upflames. The Dargians' bootsoles lost grip with thesurface, hurling their squatfiguresintoouterspace.Theysomersaultedandflailedtheirarmsaround,screaminginthechatrooms.

A few drones headedoff to their rescue. I rosebehindmy cover and openedfireintwodirectionsatonce,tearing the nearest ones topieces.Theygaveasgoodasthey got.My shield pulsatedwith absorbed damage, mygearclickingincessantlywithbatteryreplacements.

Still, not all of theDargianswereenjoyingafreeflight. Two of them stayed

put. I fired a long burst atthem — with zero effect.Could they have individualgravity generators? Thenagain, what else could havekept them standing? Theylookedasiftheywerepartofthestation'ssurface.

One of them wasalready dead. The otherscrambledbackintohishole.

The Founders' starshipwasnowsomethreehundred

feet away from me. Theproblem was, our enemieswere legion.At least fifty ofthem hovered within mydirectlineofsight.

"Snipers,keepatit!"I activated my

movement coordinator andheaded for the dead Dargianinaseriesofdangerousleaps.Hissuithadbeenbreachedinseveral places. Itsservomuscles were jammed,

locking him in an awkwardhalf-kneelingposition.

Thanks to Jurgen'sgift,mycurrentRepairskillwasat30points.EventhoughIonlyhadmyuniquehightechgeartothankforthat,nowIcouldeasilyremovevariousdevicesfrom their slots and reinstallthem.

I pulled his armor offand immediately ducked intothenearestgapingholeinone

well-calculatedleap.The Dargian who'd

escaped there earlier chargedat me from out of thedarkness. I shot at random.These pulse guns had aconsiderablerecoilthatinthisnear-zero gravityenvironment sent me flyingbackwards. My back hit abulkhead.

Trying to work as fastas possible, I checked the

loot.A purpose-built scannersoon located the gravitygeneratorbuilt intotheirgearamong other ancient artifactsas yet unknown tome. Theymust have been rare andexorbitantly expensive. Plusatleastadozenchips!—mygamingmentalitykeptbuttingin.Usingmymanipulators, Istripped the suits of all theequipment, including a slimbox containing some

microscopic data storagedevices. They must havecontained ancient aliensoftware. I threw one of thegravity generators into myinventory and clicked theother into an empty slot.Mysuit's connectorsmatched theFounders' equipment. Thegenerator powered up.Excellent.

You couldn'toverestimate the importance

ofthisparticulartrophy.Evenif the station's inner decksstill had gravity, it wasapproaching zero outside.Every step could becomeyour last, any impact couldprove fatal, forcing yourboots to lose grip with thesurface and hurling you intotheabyss.

Outer space was anextremely complexenvironment.

All this had flashedthrough my mind withouthindering my work. Myconnecting a new devicecausedthesuit toredistributepower, sending the batterychargedeepintotheyellow.

Iclimbedout.Tryingtofind my way through themaze of service channelswasn't an option. Everythingdependedonmyspeednow.

The station's hull was

illuminatedby thegasgiant'sweak brown light. The battlewas in full swing. Thesurprise effect had alreadywornoff.TheDargiansmusthave realized that it wasn'twise to stay in the open sonowtheylaylow:behindthestacks of diamond-shapedarmor plates, within thenumerous breaches orsecuring themselves withsafety tethers. Few had their

own gravity generators.Either the slave drivers hadfailed to understand theirdesign or they had provedunabletoreproducethem.

Lasers impacted fromevery direction.Droneswerethe biggest problem. Theyhad already detected oursnipers' positions and headedfor them ingroupsof fiveorsix, soaring up toward theirhidey-holes.

"Jurgen, how's itgoing?"Iaskedwhilemovingin bounds from one cover tothe next, trying not to catchany return fire. I was losingpower faster than I'dexpected.

"We're stuck!" Jurgen'svoicerangwiththetensionofthebattle.

"Anycasualties?""I've lost contact with

ten men," he snapped back.

"No idea where they arenow."

"I want you to fighttoward the respawn pointwhateverittakes!Ifyoucan'ttakeit,youmustdestroyit!"

I didn't need to remindhim.HeknewthisbetterthanIdid.

I darted for my nextcover: a stack of diamond-shaped armor plates securedwith loops of wire cable.

Drones darted overhead. Ifired my pulse gun afterthem.Twoofthemexploded;the others switchedimmediately to their newtarget. The nearest Dargianshad noticed me as well andopened fire, leaning out oftheirhideouts.

The disparity betweenmeandthemwasfrightening.My shield began to pulsate,then extinguished. I came

under fire. My ability tomovewasmyonly forte so Iran as hard as I could.Finally, I took cover aboutfifty feet from the Founders'starshipandtriedtocatchmybreath.

My gear clicked again,switching to the emergencybatteries.Themainoneswereas flat as a pancake. Myarmor was pockmarked withred-hotshrapnel.Myleftarm

manipulator could barelymove.Theammofeedinoneof the integrated guns wasdamaged too.At least I gavethemasgoodasIgot.Atrailof debris marked my wake,Dargian bodies floatingamongit.

Ibracedmyselfforonefinal sprint. "Ralph, I wantyoutocoverme."

The snipers' leaderdidn'treply.Istillhadnoidea

what had happened toCharon, either. The Haashwerenowheretobeseen.

Suddenly Friedacommunicated to me."Zander," she gasped,"there'reonlythreeofusleft.The rest are awaitingrespawn. We've downed thedrones."

"Cover me," I watchedmy shield come back to life,itsauraglowingweakly."I'm

goingfortheairlock!""Affirmative."The Dargians were

already creeping up on metrying to cut me off. I rosetentatively behind my coverand fired a generous burstfrom my right-arm gun,mercilesslywastingammo.

Their assault attemptbogged down. The Dargians'audacity had cost themdearly: I could see about a

dozen bodies drifting awayinto space, followed by theirtrailing safety tethers.Othersscrambled away, takingcover. I watched them beingdecimatedbysniperfirefromabove.

We were giving it ourall. And still this battle forsurvivalandalltheliveswe’dlost would be for nothing ifwefailedtogettothestarshiprespawnpoint.

My second integratedgungaveuptheghost.

I grabbed my trustysubmachine gun. I had sixtyfeettocover.

I ranas fastas Icould,ignoringtheDargians'fire.

***

Ten men with

mercenaries' insignia wereclimbing up the welded

gratingintheimpactcrater.The echo of the battle

reached them through therarifiedair.

"Max," one of themscrambled out of the craterand began looking around,"D'you thinkwe shouldhavestayed?"

"What, with thosenutcases?" the other sniffed."That'spuresuicide.Useyourhead,man.There'rehundreds

ofDargiansthere.""And what if they do

taketheship?We'llbelosingoutthen,won'twe?"

"They might," Maxanswered. "Then again, theymight not. I don't like thisZander. He thinks too muchof himself. Then there's allthat xenomorph talk of his:don't touch them, he says.Had he said, go smoke theHaashtillyoudrop,nowthat

would have been the rightthing.But theway thingsgo,Idon'tthinkmuchofhim,thebentbastard."

"Okay, okay. Whatabouttheship?"

The remaining mercsscrambled out of the craterone after another. Theabandoned deck lay aroundthem.

"We're going toadvance toward the reserve

respawn point. We'll takeover the equipment. Then ifthisZanderdoestakeovertheship,we'llofferhimaswap."

"Whatkindofswap?""We'll offer the

children in exchange for theFounders' ship," Maxgrinned.

Theothersmaintainedagloomysilence.

"There'reourguysthereat the respawn point," Vlast

pointedout."So what? It's every

man for himself now. Thereisnoclan.Soit'suptoyou."

"The goblin is noproblem," one of the mercssaid while scanning thelocation."We'llmakeaquickjobofhim.But it looksas ifLiori's Condor has landedthere, too.SergeandDanarebusytryingtopullherout."

"Now," Max pinned

everyonedownwithhisglare."You, you and you — youtake over the respawnequipment.Smoke thegoblinandhold.LeaveLiori tome.As forSerge,Dyxt andDan,shootthemonsight.Wehavenothing to discuss withthem."

***

Thereserverespawnpoint

Inge awoke from

frequent irregular tremors.She sat up, casting scaredglancesaround.

A brown light seepedthrough a crack in the cargocontainer's open door. UncleArbido was gone. The otherchildrenwerefastasleep.

Soon thegirl feltboredjust sitting and dangling herfeet. Wherever could all theadults have gone? UncleArbido didn't count as anadult: he was too small andtoofunny.

Tryingnottomakeanynoise, the girl slid down theoversizedseat,walkedovertothe door and took a peekoutside.

How strange. They

wereallgone.Shecouldonlyglimpse a few weird-lookingshadows in the distance,surrounded by a dull greenlight.

Thesensorsofthegirl'sgear beeped a warning, theirindicators soaring into theyellow sector. Still, this darkradiation-soaked place didn'tscare Inge in the slightest.She adjusted her vision andfocused, making out the

outlineofaCondorfarahead.A red-hot rut trailed on thefloor in its wake. The shipmust have made anemergencylanding.

This is where all theadults must have gone, thegirl reasoned. The downedship was surrounded byflashing lights but shewasn'tafraidofthemonebit.

Ingelookedupandsawtwo translucent shimmering

creatures high overheadwhere an enormous gapinghole crossed the hangar'sceiling.

Transfixed, shewatched them dance in theair. They were so beautiful.Theplayoflightandfirewasso delicate, the creaturesgleamingwitheveryshadeofblue, crimson and emerald,weightlessandgraceful.

Delight filledherheart.

She watched the fancyswirling of red-hot threadspermeating their translucentbodies, their light reflectinginhereyes.

Her lips parted in asmile. "Come here!" shewhispered. "Aren't you justgorgeous!"

The Emgles slowedtheir dance, then circledoverheadinconfusion.

The enthusiasm of

combathadalreadyleftthem.Theauraofthedeadshiphadceased to attract them. Thetwo Emgles were suddenlybathing in a long-forgottenfeelingthathadstrippedthesepredators of their gruesomepast, reviving happymemories of free flight intheirhomeplanet'sairstreamwhentheyusedtosoarhigherand higher toward thewarming raysof the system's

sun."This is awesome!" the

girl exclaimed, embracingtheir mental images. "Comehere,please!"

***

Eight minutes into

combat.Thetimerkeptclocking

up the seconds. Soon theDargians would begin to

respawn on board theFounders'ship.

The airlockwas almostwithinreach.Ilimpedtowardit. My armor was glowingcrimson from all thenumerousimpacts.Myvisor'sinner rim was awash withsubsystemdamagereports.

The outer hatch wasopen. I sprang inside theairlock chamber and swunground, stopping the more

brazen Dargians with shortburstsofpulsefire.

"Charon!"Stillnoreply.Jurgen contacted me.

"Zander?We'vedestroyedtherespawn point. We've failedto seize the equipment.There'reonlyfiveofusleft."

"I'm nearly there!" Ihurried to reload and drovethe last power batteries intotheirslots."Keepatit!"

Hisvoicewasdrownedoutbyinterference.

Fifty seconds until theslavedrivers'respawn.

I grabbed at themassive hatch and strainedmyservomusclesashardasIcould, forcing it into the"Closed"position.

I'dneverbeenonboarda Founders' ship before so Iknew nothing about itslayout. I only had Charon's

utility blueprint to go by.Accordingtoit,Ihadtocoverahundredandfiftyfeetofthemain corridor before I got tothe room with the respawnartifact.

The floor shudderedunderfoot.Therewasabattlegoingonhere.

Itwasthenthat thelastoftheslavecollarsmusthaveswitched off. A messagepopped up into my mental

view,Questcompletionalert:

The Ties That Bind. Questcompleted!

You've received a newlevel!

The inner hatch wasn't

locked. I grabbed at it andpulled with all my might.Concealed within thebulkhead, its locking

mechanismresistedmyeveryeffort.Thehatchkeptinchingsideways until suddenly itgavewayasifsomethinghadsnapped inside, releasing thehatchthatslidfreelyalongitsrails.

Good enough. I forcedmybodythroughthegap.

Inthedimyellowlight,thecorridorfloorwaslitteredwithHaashbodiesapparentlysavaged by bursts of

automaticfire.Iglancedoverthem. No Charon. Deepdown, the main channel waslitupbyflashesoffiring.

Iboltedtowardit.Damaged cables

sparked under the curvingceiling. Light panelsflickered. The power spikessuggested someone wastrying to activate somepower-hungry equipment,likestationaryweapons.

The corridor wasdecompressed. Somebodyhad switched the life supportsystems off and let thevacuumin.

My movements startedto slow down. WTF? Threeslave drivers ran out of thenearest door. I tried to raisemy gun but my musclesseemed to weigh a hundredtons.

They froze indisbelief.

I couldn't even use theirhesitation. What could havebeeneasierthantomowthemdownwithawell-aimedburstof my gun? Only that myarmsdidn'tobeymeanymore.I still had plenty of power;my suit functioned well.Whatwasgoingon?

Yourexoingredienthas

expired!You're no longer able

tocontrolyoursuit!Dammit! I couldn't

even move, couldn't injectmyselfwithanewhelpingofthe metabolite. I hadn't eventhoughtImightneeditagain!

TheDargianshadcomeout of their stupor. Two ofthemshrankbacktothewallswhile the thirdoneraisedhiscumbersome weaponmounted on a complex

support.A shiver ran down my

spine.IrecognizedRash.I felt paralyzed. The

sheer weight of the suit incombinationwithafunctionalpseudo gravity generatorpinned me to the ground. Ihadn't even had time to lookinto the suit's settings. I'dactivated itbutnowIhadnoideahowtoswitchitoff!

Too late to sift through

the icons looking for theoption I needed. I had tochangeintomyoldgearbutIcouldn'tdoitinthevacuum.

WhatwasRashwaitingfor?

Hewasn't in ahurry toshoot.He toohadrecognizedme. He lowered his gun andmotioned his henchmen toleave the two of us alone.Slowly he approached,studying me and trying to

work out what might havecaused my immobilization.He too wore an individualgravity generator. Last timehe'd had nothing as good asthat.

"Human," his sneerechoed through my mind.Littlewonder: ithadbeenhewho'd implantedmewith thesemantic processor, after all,soheknewhowtouseit.

I froze inhelpless fury.

The one single mistake I'dmade! Not a mistake even,justafataloversight,butnowitwasthreateningthelivesofallthosewhotrustedme.

Arbido might survive.Hemighttakethechildrentosome unexplored far-flunglocation. He'd manage, Iknew it. Still I couldn't evenbegin to imaginehowhard itwouldbeforthem.

In moments like these,

a lot can flash through yourmind. I had less than ahundred feet betweenmyselfand the artifact. ThreeDargians were all that stoodbetweenme and the respawnpointweneeded.Inanyothergame world I'd be able tochangeintomysparegear—butnotinPhantomServer!I'dexplode from decompressionwithinseconds.

"Rash, just do it," I

said."Oh no,Human.Death

wouldbetooeasy,"hisvoiceheld the promise of atorturousagony.Ididn'tcare.Iwassearchingforasolutioneven though I knew therewasn'tone.Toolate,anyway.MoreDargiansappearedfromthe far end of the corridor.Onlyafew:thosewho'dbeenthefirsttodieandrespawn.

"The suit's a bit too

heavy for you, eh?" Rashmust have put two and twotogethersohewashabituallyarrogant, fearing nothing andnoone.Awildbeast, safe inhishightechshell."Toolate,Zander. Forget the gravitygenerator.Youcan'tswitchitoff, pointless even trying. Soyou can tell the others tosurrender. We need newslavestoreplacealltheHaashthatdiedtoday."

My mind boiled insilent fury. A red hazecloudedmyvision. I strainedeverysinew,tryingtoliftandfirethegun.

Icouldn't.Adoorbegantoopento

my side. I could sense thegelatinous flow of hatredseepingfromwithin,directedattheDargians.

AHaash?I struggled in vain to

establish mnemonic contactwith him. All I could sensewas his craving for revenge,desperateandviolent.

A message popped upinmymentalview,

A unique ability

activated: Friend of theHaash.

Every time you fightalongside the Haash, youreceive +1 to all

characteristics.The servodrives of my

suitrustledsoftly.The internal

manipulators of my gearsprang to life, apparentlyhappy with my currentStrength level. In one swipeofmyeyes,I injectedmyselfwithabumperdoseofexo.

"So what do you say,Zander?" the slave driver

grinned, enjoying his powerover me, savoring myimmobility. "You do realize,don't you, that you stand nochance?Yes,you'vemanagedto kill quite a few of us, buteven that is only temporary,don't you understand? Whatdidyouexpect,tellme?"

More and moreDargians filled the corridor.TheHaash'simagewithinmymind had taken a familiar

shape.Danezerath?Zander?Danny, wait up! We'll

do it together! Wait for mysignal!

Shaking, I forwardedhim the mental image of thesituationinthecorridor.

My nerveswere ablazewith the strain. A hundredfeet.OnlyahundredfeetandacoupledozenDargians.

Rash's patience musthave runout.The respawnedDargians were pressing onhim from behind. Slowly heraised his heavy gun: mostlikely a hand-held plasmagenerator. No amount ofcover could save you from around of one of those. Youcouldforgetrespawning.

Danny—go!The door flew aside

into the bulkhead. Rash's

attention was distracted by alankyHaashshape.Ichargedat him, knocking him downbefore he could use hisplasmagenerator.

Danezerath reached forit and jerked it out of theslavedriver'shands,breakingitsmountingsandfiringitontheswing.

Wow.The nearest Dargians

wereburned toashes—all I

noticed were a few blindingflashes followed by thincloudsofmurkydischarge.

Rash had survived andwas struggling back to hisfeet. I punched him in thevisor, investing all my furyintotheblow.

The visor split. I'dlearned the Outlaw's lessonwell: thosemuscle enhancerswere a force to be reckonedwith.

Withoutsayingaword,Danezerath tore the powerunits off the slave driver'sbelt.

Ipickedupmygunandwe ran for the mobilerespawnpoint.

***

About a hundred feet

further on, the corridorwidened into a hemispheric

hall.At its center, the

Founders' artifact lay on asmall pedestal, shaped as arather plain-looking glowingoctahedron.

It was surrounded bythesilentevidenceofabattlethat must have raged hereearlier.Thefloorwas litteredwith dead bodies of both theHaash and the Dargians.Broken defense turrets and

gutted drones were strewneverywhere.

"Danny, hold theentrance!"

Silently Danezerathbegan heaping up Dargianbodies to barricade thepassage. I hurried to checkthedeadforCharon'sbody.

The Haash were ahorrible sight. Most of themwere still alive, their gearmolten and decompressed,

gaping holes filled with amixture of sealing foam andblood. The cost-consciousDargianshadn'tfinishedthemoff knowing that the prisonblockrespawnpointhadbeendestroyed.

I had a small stock ofmetabolites onme. I injectedone of the survivors withsome."Where'sCharon?"

He pointed weakly atthe heapedDargian bodies. I

threwthemthiswayand thatand leaned helplessly overmyfriend.

Charon was still alive,the two emitters attachedbehindhisback.Hehadn'tyetinstalledthem.

"Zander," a handtouchedmyshoulder.

Iswunground."Metabolites?" croaked

the Haash I'd just saved, hiseyesoverflowingwithagony,

his body moving onwillpoweralone.

"There," I unstrappedthe bags from Charon's belt.They held whatever meagersupply of metabolites we'dmanaged to come by in theexo sector. "Make sure youinjectonlythosewhocanstillfight."

I was forced to makehard decisions. Still,Marogeron — that was the

Haash's name — seemed tounderstand.He used the firstdose to inject Charon, thenstaggered toward the others,overturning bodies in theravagedsuitsandpeeringintofaces, deciding who of themwouldlive.

Timepressed.I opened the bags on

Charon'sbackandyankedoutJurgen'snewimprovedpowerfield generators, hurrying to

setthemup.The room lit upwith a

respawn's emerald glow.Dammit.

The way the artifactworkedwasratherunusual.Afew clots of emerald lightclustered togethernext to theroom's wall, letting out fiveDargians. They hadn't yetrealized that their respawnpointhadbeencaptured.

"Come here, slave!"

one of them hissed, noticingDanezerath.

Iletgoofthegeneratorandwhippedoutmygun.Myinterventionwasn'tnecessary,though. One by one, thealready-injected Haash rosefrom the bloodied floor —awesome and merciless intheirfury.

***

We closed theperimeterandpoweredupthegenerators. I sent a remotecommand, activating themodified force shield.Charges of iridescent lightsparked about,morphing andacquiring the shape of aflatteneddome.

My heart knockedagainst my chest, countingdown the seconds. In thedepths of my visor's screen,

the fine line of the shield'sgraphsurgedwithfivepeaks:fiverespawnrequests.

Respawn denied.

Requestredirected.It didn't say where

they'd been redirected to.Therewasn'tasinglerespawnpoint left available to theDargianswithin thescanners'effectiverange.

Charon was sitting onthefloor,stillcomingto.He'dhad it tough.Not a limbwasuntouched;hiswholesuitwascovered with a layer ofsealing foam pink with hisblood.

"Zander!"Iofferedhimmyhand,

helping him to his feet. Wedidn't have a chance to sayanything as a plasma chargeflaredup,castinglongragged

shadowsallaround.Those of the Haash

who'd already armedthemselvesrushedtowardthebarricades.

"Jurgen!" I hurriedtoward thehall's second exit,alsobarricaded.

"Zander! What haveyougotthere?"Jurgen'svoicereached me through theinterference.

"We've blocked the

artifact!""The Dargians are

buildingupon theother sideof the ship! We can't reachthemfromhere!"

"I suppose we'll justhave to hold the fort."WhatelsecouldIsay?

"We'll try to attackthemfromtherear!"

Then his voice diedaway, swallowed by whitenoise.

Charon and I took upourpositionsatthebarricade.ThreemoreHaash joined us.Justintime.Thesquatfiguresof theDargians flittedwithinthe corridor's depths. Theyhadnothing left to lose.Fiveof them were dragging astationarylasergun.Ithadtobeatleasttwohundredmegs.

Itsveryfirstblastmadea large smoking hole in thebarricade. The slavers

charged.We didn't budge. We

met them with intense fire,mowingdownthemoreeagerand stupid of them andthwarting their attack. Theothers shrank back to thewalls, seeking cover. Thelaser struck again, raising aswirlingblizzardofashinthevacuum. One of the Haashcollapsed, sliced in two. Hecouldforgetrespawning.

Therewasnowaywe'dlastmorethanaminuteunderthiskindoffire.

I still had the twoplasma grenades in my bag,thoseI'dpickedupinSerge'slootedshop."Charonand theothers,coverme!"

I switched on themovement coordinator,simultaneously deactivatingmy individual gravitygenerator and marking my

future route with a swipe ofmy eyes: up thewalls to theceiling to reach thewretchedlasergun.

Me,Ihadalottolose.Iwas scared. My reflexenhancer,mindexpanderandmetabolic corrector were allinoverdrive.

TheHaashopened fire,forcing the Dargians' headsdown.

Go!

***

Respawn

A toxic haze clouded

my view. I was stillconvulsing, struggling tobreathe,assealingfoamfilledtheholesinmysuit.

Tenminutes.I struggled in my dead

suit, trying toget tomy feet.Anything could havehappened in those tenminutes. Several messageshungonmyvisor'sscreen,

You've destroyed the

enemy'slaserdevice!You've received a new

level!You have new Talent

and Characteristic pointsavailable!

Ability expired: FriendoftheHaash.

Why was I alone? The

thought jarred me to mysenses."Everybody...report!"

Silence. The angularbodies of the two cargomodules towered at adistance. The door of one ofthem stood ajar. Overhead,the ceiling was lit up by theEmgles'fieryaura.

I broke out in a coldsweat. Struggling with thesuit, I tried to sit up. TheEmgles were soaringoverhead under the hangar'sceiling.

"Uncle Zander, it's allright!" a child's brittle voicebrokeintomymind.

"Inge? Where's...everyone?What'sgoingon?"

"It's Emgles, they'vecome to see us! Everything's

sobeautiful!They'resonice!And all the adults are gone,"the girl's voice betrayed nofear, filled only withcuriosity.

"Wherearetheygone?""Over there," the girl

pointed at the darknessenveloping the deck. Istruggled to make out aCondor'sdyingglow.

"Uncle Arbido, has hebeengonelong?"Imanaged.

"He fell down and hewon't get back up," the girlcomplained.

I forced myself to myfeet.Mangled beyond repair,my suit was crippling me. Ihurriedtochangeintomyoldgear.

"Inge," I crouchednextto the girl, "where's UncleArbido?Showme."

Fear filled her eyes.Immediately both Emgles

begantodescend.IcouldfeelthatifIngestartedcryingnowtheywould simply torchme,end of story. How on earthhadshemanaged toestablishmental contact with aliencreatures was yet to bedetermined. The factremained,theyweretryingtoprotecther.

"Don't worry,sweetheart.I'llgolookathimmyself. You'd better go and

jointheotherkids,okay?"She pouted her lips.

"It's boring.May I stay here,please?"

Well, I suppose, withguards like these she hadnothing to fear. I'd just havetoacceptwhatFriedahadtoldme. The Emgles must haveconnected to the girl. If theyhadn't attacked her yet, shemustbesafethen.

AtleastIhopedso.

"Very well, princess.You stay here. Just promiseme not to leave this place,okay?I'llbeback."

She smiled. My mindwasstillincombatmode,myanxiety growing. I couldn'tcontact the others and I hadnoideawhy.

Every moment wasprecious. I gave the girl anencouraging smile eventhough she looked perfectly

comfortable.I checked the open

module. The other kidswerefastasleep.

Iwalkedout.The floorwasspottedwithgreenblood.I followed its trail to thelandingsite.

Arbido lay thereon theicy floor, clutching the pulsegun.

At a short distance laythe bodies of three mercs

pepperedwithpulserounds.Ichecked their markers, thenbent over Arbido andcarefully turnedhimontohisback. The gun's magazineblinked with a red light:empty. His Dargian suit wasalldented.Icouldseeatleasttwobreachholes.

Arbido had bled todeath,fightingtothelast.

Why would thesetraitors have attempted to

take control of the reserverespawn point? It had beenavailabletothemallalong!

The answer wassoberinglyevident.

They had wanted totake the children hostage toblackmail me intosurrendering the Founders'starship.

Bunchoflowlifes.But I could only see

three bodies there. Whatever

hadhappenedtotherest?I carriedArbido's body

to the other cargo module,hoping against all hope thathe'd respawn, desperatelypraying that the agony ofdying hadn't scorched hismind.

One of the Emglesglided over me anxiously,listening in to my thoughts,but I didn't sense anyemotional reaction coming

fromit.Ilookedaround.The second Emgle had

descended, levitating aboutseven feet off the floor. Itthen took the shape of adome, two of its deadlybioenergetic tentacleshanging down like two thickluminous cables clutching ascrap of metal plate. Whatwasthatsupposedtomean?

I stood there in

bewilderment while Ingeshrieked with delight onseeing the weird shape. Sheran toward it and climbedonto the makeshift seat,grabbing the radiant cables,then started swinging,danglingherlegsintheair.

I broke out in a coldsweat. This was a swing! Achild'sswing!

"Uncle Zander, look!Thisissonice!"

I stopped shaking.Could theEmgledip into thegirl's mind? Apparently so,otherwise how else wouldhave it been able to createsomething as alien to it as aswing?

I felt completely lost.Still, time was an issue. Thechildren were safe now, thatlittle was clear. The mind-reading Emgles wouldn't letany scheming bastard

anywherenearthekids,behehuman or Dargian. It was agood job I hadn't shown anyexpressfearoraggression.

Ijustcouldn'tstaytherein suspended animationwithout contactwith anyone.Ihadtoputmytrustinthesecreatures from Wearong.SomehowIdidn't think therewereanyDargians left in thevicinitycapableofcontrollingthem,but even if therewere,

the intuitive Emgles wouldjust ignore them.Could it bethat their mental vibes werealready affecting mythoughts?

Go, a silent alienwhisper nudged me towardthedownedCondor.

***

The reserve respawn

point dissolved in the toxic

haze as I ran toward theCondor'sdyingsignature.

A few xenomorphsshrank out of my way.Whatever had attracted themtotheship?

I stopped, catching mybreath.

The icy floor waslittered with mercs' bodies,each and every one of themawaiting respawning. Killedbyaplayer.

Further away I madeout the ship's outline— andfour motionless figures nextto it, clad in combat gear.Liori and the three guards.The girl sat leaning againsther Condor's brokenundercarriage. The long trailof an emergency landingstretchedacrossthedeck.

Irushedtowardher.She sat in a pool of

molten slush and blood

littered with empty pulseclips.ThethreeguardsI'dlefttocontrolthereserverespawnpointhadfoughttothelast.

Liori was unconsciousbutstillalive.She'dlostalotofblood.Herfacewasashen.

"Hold on," I injectedher with the emergencymetabolitesupply.

Sheflinchedweaklybutdidn't regain consciousness.My suit's diagnostic system

scanned her biorhythms. Herpulse was weak and uneven,her breathing labored. Herinjurieswerefatal.

Wouldsherespawn?Nooneknewthat.My communication

system repeatedly scannedthe empty frequencies. Theircrackling was doing me in.Wherewerealltherest?

Liori'seyelidsquivered."Zander,"herwhisperburned

throughmymind."I'm here," I supported

herhead,helpingher to shiftinto a more comfortableposition.

"Thechildren...""They're fine. They're

safe. Don't speak. Theinjection will work in aminute."

"Zander, you must...erase... theirrespawnmarks,"she pointed at the mercs'

bodies. "They're traitors..."shedriftedoff.

I still had the reservedevicethatJurgenhadissuedme. I darted back and pulledthegearoffthemercs'bodies,destroying their respawnmarks. This was the least Icoulddo to thesesharkswhohad tried to use the childrenas bargaining chips for theship. If any of themrespawned now, they'd share

thesamefateastheDargians.I put their nicknames onmypersonalKOS list. Sooner orlater,Iwasgoingtofindthemwherevertheyrespawned.

IhurriedbacktoLiori.She had momentarily

come to. She clenched myhand, her eyes awash withpainandfrustration."Zander.There was so much... Iwantedtotellyou..."

I sensed that she was

trying to send me amnemonic PM. Why? Thatwouldabsolutelydrainher!

"SomuchIwantedto...sorry...Iwasafraid..."

Our mind expandersconnected.

Don'tspeak!Justdon't!Youneedtospareyourself!

She didn't answer. Anagonizinghazeshiftedbeforemy eyes, revealing strange,unknown shapes. I focused.

The mental image grewclearer. I recognized theoutlines of some machinesthat lookedrather likethein-mode devices. Thousands ofthem. A low ceiling hungoverhead, strewnwith cablesandpipesthatrantoeachandeveryoneofthedevices.

A bunker? Was it myimagination or had I seen aHaash patrolling themachines?

The image faded,distorting. I didn't have timetotakeinthedetails.

"Phantom Server..." Icould barely hear herwhisper. "You still don'tknowanything...doyou..."

"You can tellme later!Later, when you respawn!Everythingisgoingtobefi-"

"Zander... it doesexist..."

Our thoughts were

entwined."What does?" the

question came out before Icouldstopmyself.

"TheServer..."Her fingersclenched in

a spasm. "There's norespawn...forme...sorry..."

I stared at her wrist indisbelief. A gun burst hadripped her suit open,destroyingthesilvermark.

"Wait!" I whipped out

the tube I'd received fromJurgen. Too late. Her avatarbegantofade.

"Liori!""Sorry," her fingers

clutched my hand, theunfulfilled life within hereyes.

She was fading,slipping away from me. Theyellowed skin of her armbegan to glow, outlining thewebofveinsbeneath.Iknew

this glow.Her skin glistenedwith a silvery substance thatseeped through it, trying totake the shape of a ring andfailing. It reached for myfingers and bled onto them,flashing and seeping undermyskin.

The back of my headwent numb. Liori's shapebegantodematerialize.

Then it disappeared,dissolvedbythetoxichaze.

***

Icouldn'tbreathe.My heart was

exploding."I'll find you! I'll come

and get you wherever yourespawn!"

The same toxic gazeswallowedmyoutcry.

Both my hands wereaglow. I gnashed my teeth,

choking on my own tears.The mercs' bodies werefadingtoonow.Twoartifacts— two of the Founders'ancient neuronet modules—reached insideme, reshapingme irreversibly. I could seegreen flashes coming fromthe respawn point; I couldhear the radio spring to lifewith Arbido's and Frieda'svoices and the growling ofthe respawned Haash. I

couldn't speak back. I wasparalyzed,mymindplungingintosomenewdimension.

"Zander," Liori's softvoice reached my mindthrough the gelatinoussilence.

WherewasInow?Thepainwasgone.Iturnedslowlybutsaw

nothing.Graymistenvelopedme, spongy and tangible. Itwas everywhere, denying

direction, harboringsomethingscaringlyalien.

"Zander."I could hear her voice,

trying to work out where itwas coming from. The graymist began to seep away,gaining substance, formingobjects and facts. My mindkept expanding until I stoodon a hard curved surfacestaringattheclosehorizonofanartificialcelestialbody.

AFounders'station?Thehullwasdominated

by a group of tall structures,their spire-like silhouettesreaching out into space. Anunusualdesign.I'dneverseenanything like it. Togethertheyformedagracefulgroupstretchingouttothestars.

"Zander."I studied the area

aroundmeinsearchofLiori.The station looked

undamaged. The surfacewasof familiar bluish steel, itscargoniteblurredandrippled.

This couldn't behappening. My mind wasawashwith an icy feeling ofdanger, blurring again untilthe stars stretched intostraight lines — and thendisappeared.

The graymist quiveredaround me, thickening intoroughstonewalls.

OnceagainIstoodonahard surface. My heart beatslowly, the pain in my chestmeltingslowly.

The air here was coldandthin.Wherewasmysuit?Isteppedforward,feelingtheroughly chiseled wall. Aweak echo reached me. Inoticedadulllightahead.

Iwalkedtowardit.Gradually the walls

parted, the light growing

brighter.NowIunderstood.Iwasinsideanasteroidriddledwith mine shafts andgalleries.

The short tunnel tookme outside to a smallopening. In the past, it hadbeen used as a landing padfor cargo ships. A fewremaining parts of dockingmechanismswerebrokenandpowderedwithdust.

The landing ended in

the ragged edge of an abyss.Thecosmoslaybeyond.

Where was I? WherewastheFounders'station?

"Liori!"My voice echoed back

tome.No answer. Then the

asteroid's rotation brought anenormous technogenicstructureintoview.

This wasn't a station.This was something much

morethanthat.Itssizedefiedimagination. I could observea multitude of spiredstructurespointingintospace,their configuration mirroringthe outline of the sky'sunfamiliarconstellations.

This incredible spacecreation was filled with asilvery mist as if it waswrapped in a gauze of thefinestdust.

The mind expander

automatically zoomed in onthe structure. It focused onone of the specks of silverydust, bringing its familiaroutlineintoview.

APhantomRaider?Billions of them, their

serried ranks surrounding themammothstructure.

Some of the toweringstructures oscillated withcharges of lightning,pulsating each in its own

rhythm."Server..."Barely audible, Liori's

voice was a mere whispercomingfromthedepthsoftheUniverse.

Once again the starsblurred to fiery lines anddisappeared.

***

Ishudderedbacktolife,

feelingmybodypumpedwithmetabolites.

The place was almostdark.AsquatfigurecladinaDargian suit with no helmetnervously shifted from onefoot to the other next tome.Further on I could justmakeout the figures of the Haashhunchedupinthesmallspacebetween the rows of seatshaphazardly welded to thecargocontainer'sfloor.

My throatwas dry,mymuscles taut to the point ofcramping.Mymindexpanderwasinoverdrive.

"Arbido," my voicesoundedlikeacroak.

Withastartle,heturnedtome.

"CanIhaveadrink?"He fussed about,

ripping open our emergencysupply and bringing a plasticflasktomylips.

I struggled to take acoupleofgulps.Itfeltbetter."Tell me. How long has itbeen?"

"Just over an hour.Zander,Ithoughtyou'dnevercomeround."

Judging by the smoothacceleration, we must havebeen inouter space. "Cut thecrap,justtellme."

"The Haash have kepttheship,"helookedmeinthe

eye as if not daring to asksome important question."We foundyou lying next toLiori's ship. You were flatout. We tried to bring youround with somemetabolitesbut they didn't work. Friedascanned your brain and saidyoumightnotgetbackatall.Zander... is that true aboutyoursecondneuronet?"

"Yes,"Isawnopointinkeeping it from him. The

images still crowded mymind, defying explanation."HaveyoufoundLiori?"

He frowned, shakinghis head. "She's gone. Noideawhereherrespawnpointis."

"Givemeahand."He helped me to my

feet. My bulky suit crowdedout the small space betweentheseats,itssurfacetwinklingwith electric charges. The

built-in repair systemssqueaked to life, their thinmanipulators snaking aroundthe suit, the breachesgradually filling with ahardeningpurplesubstance.

My mind expanderkicked in, activating itsinterface icons.The darknessdispersed. I could see clearlynow.

Hangingontothebacksof the seats, Imademyway

forward to the cockpit.Danezerath hunched himselfup in the crowded space,forced to lean forward in apilot's seat too small for aHaash.Still,youcouldseeheknew how to fly a ship. Themakeshift observationwindow offered a panoramicviewofouterspace,includingthecornerof the stationwiththe Founders' starshipclingingtoit.

The second cargomodule was on a parallelcoursewith our own, closelyfollowedbytheEmgles.

I could see somestrangedotsmovingamidthestation's molten hullstructures. Mechanically Izoomed in.TheHaash!Theywere busy towing four oftheir ships by hand— thosethattheDargianshadkeptonthe launch pads. Two of the

Condors — one burned anddeformed, the other virtuallyintact— alreadywaited nextto the ancient starship'sdockingpods.NexttothemImade out the figures of thesurvivingmercs.

"Jurgen," I sent him amnemonicPM.

He didn't sound toohappy to hear from me. Hewas his usual paranoid self."Weneedtotalk."

"Why, what's theproblem?"

"Frieda scanned yourbrain and she says that thescansshowednothingbuttheFounders'networkactivityforatleastanhour."

"So what do yousuggest?Spititout."

A flat latticed surfacecameintomymetalview.

"What'sthis?""This is your

neurogram," Jurgenanswered. "As you can see,not a single spike the wholetime. And this," a 3D imagereplaced it, covered withpeaks of activity, "this is thescan of your two neuronetmodules.I'mverysorry,butIcan't be a hundred percentsure I'm speaking toyouandnottosomeancientAI."

"I'm fine. It's you whoisparanoid."

"That remains to beseen."

"We have no time forall this. Didn't you say thattwo artifacts weren't enoughtoformaproper-"

"Inthiscasewouldyoube so kind to explain whereyour mind has been for thelasthour?Frieda isanexpertmnemotech. She needs toknowwhat'sgoingon."

"She's very welcome.

Butnotnow."I had a funny feeling I

knew where my mind hadtraveled to. This wassomething you might findhard to acceptbut Iknew I'dseen those pointy structuresin some database or other.Theyweresupposedtobethehyperspace communicationdevices that the Foundersusedtotransmittheiridentitymatricesfromonestarsystem

totheother.Andwhat if everything

I'd seen in my unconsciousstate was more than just ahallucination?

Did that mean I'd seenthe Phantom Server? Thecentral juncture of theFounders'network?Orwasitthe second AI that haduploaded the images to mymind?

Myheart twangedwith

frustration.Liori.Irefusedtobelieveshewasdead.

The cargo module'slanding gear touched downonthestation'shull.

***

We disembarked. The

two Condors were alreadysitting in the docking pods.The surviving Haashstubbornly towed their four

craft toward the Founders'starship.

The children lookedaround in amazement. Thenthey filed on board thestarship, shepherded byArbido. Judging by the fewreports I'd received, they'dalready managed to sealseveral living modules andrestored their life supportsystems.

The ship's reactor

functioned at 20%. Thepower systemwas intact. Asfor the rest, the entire scopeoftherepairworkswasn'tyetclear.

Four mercs and twelveHaash. That's all thesurvivors.ThoseoftheHaashwhohadn'thadtheirpersonalmarks changed must haverespawnedtoo,butwehadnoideawhere.

The ship's corridors

were empty. Everything herescreamed of a desperatebattle.Thewallsweredentedandmolten,coveredinblood.Manyofthecablesandmuchof the pipework had beendamagedintheshootout.

I finally found Jurgenin one of themodules of theradarcenter.

We did need to talk.We needed to set the recordstraight.Thisshipcouldonly

haveonecommander.Icouldunderstand his suspicionsaboutmebeingthehosttoanalien neuronet but so far Ididn't feel any intrusion intomy personality and I wasquitepreparedtostandbymyconviction.

Restored by theDargians, the locationequipment took up a largehall in its entirety —decompressed but functional.

An enormous holographicscreen domed overhead,receiving data from thesensors.

Jurgen turned round."Perfecttiming!"

He seemed to haveforgottenaboutourargument,at least for the time being.Whateverhadhappenednow?

Noticing the anxiety inmy stare, he pointed at aclusterofdots.

I frowned, unable toreadthedata."What'sthat?"

Jurgen paused. Thedevice nearest to us wasblinking with a plethora ofmulticolored lights, itsscreens filling with thescrolling lines of theFounders'fancyscript.

I peered at them. Theyformedmessagesthatbecameperfectlycleartome,

Unidentified signaturesdetected

Intense radio trafficdetected

Decoding in process.Decryption equipmentactivated

"Number one to

flagship. Scanning andorbiting completed. Initialdata confirmed. Argus isbeing controlled by

xenomorphs.""Flagship to number

one. Withdraw. We areinitiatinganattack."

My blood ran cold. Ilooked up, zooming in onArgus,watchingtheclusterofsparksheadingtowardit.

The Eurasia fleet hadenteredthespaceoftheDargsystem.

We kept scanning andlisteningin.

"Number seven toflagship. I'm within range.Have completed myapproach. The station isabandoned. An unidentifiedsignaturedetected."

My skin began tocrawl:afamiliarsensation.

"Penetration scanningcompleted. Unidentifiedspacecraft detected. It'sdocked on the station. Signsof organic life on board

detected.""Whoarethey?""I'm not sure, Sir. The

signals are mixed. It looksliketheship'screwismadeofboth humans andxenomorphs."

"They have to beOutlaws. They did warn usabout them back on Earth,didn't they? Number seven,forward their coordinates totheassaultgroup."

Theymeantus.Should we contact

them, should we try toexplain? Pointless. Theythought thiswasagame.Forus,thiswaslife.

I wasn't quite preparedtodroptomykneesandpleadfor mercy, sacrificing theHaash in the hope of savingourbacon.

Jurgen was pale. Helookedlost.

"Remove the engines'governors!" I barked."Increasereactorpower!"

"Zander,youcan't-"hisvoice was rife with emotion.HeknewwhatIwasgoingtodo.

"IcanandIwill."No time to ponder the

alternatives.Onceagainwe'dbeen throwninto the thickofit. We were under attack —so basically, we had no

choice. It was either do ordie.

***

The entrance to the

Founders' cockpit wasblocked by the iridescentshimmerofapowerfield.AsIapproached,itdisappeared.

The room was small,with only three antigravitypilot's seats installed. But

then... that was funny. Theseats actually fit humananatomy.NowwhywouldtheDargians have installed themiftheyweresoapparentlybigforthem?

Later.Ihadnotimeforitnow.

I took the first pilot'sseat. Triggered by the seatsensors' signals, holographicscreens sprang to life.Astronavigational control

columns hung with assorteddevices softly roseoutof thedeck.

TheFounders' starshipsused tobecontrolledbyAIs:a big problem which theDargianshadfailedtosolve.Iconnected to the ship'snetwork and its externalsensors, scanning bothhemispheres. All I did so, itmademerealizethatalthoughI had access to all of the

ship's subsystems, togetherthey created an incrediblycomplex web that lacked anucleus.

Theircontrolswerelikenothing I'd seen before. Ireached for the spongyjoysticks.Mymind expanderwas working flat out. I sawthetwoEmglesthathastenedto come down, covering twolarge holes in the ship's hullwiththeirbodies.

My breathing sped up.Hundreds of devices weretryingtoconnecttomymind,mistakingmeforthesystem'sbrain.

Steady,Zander.I disconnected from

everything I didn't need,leaving only the enginecontrol, navigation, weaponsandshields.

Thepalmsofmyhandsbecamesweaty in thegloves,

my fingers somehow sensingthe thrust triggers. My mindplungedintodigispace.

Please don't let medown, I addressed the twoancient neuronet moduleswithin me. The tinglingsensation turned to intenseheat as both artifacts tookcontrol over from me. Mymindblurred,thencamebackwithamazingclarity.

Data began streaming

through my mind. Now Icould feel all of the ship'ssubsystemsaspartofmyownbody. No idea how long itwasgoingtolastthough.

"Zander, the enginesareungoverned.CharonandIarecoming."

"No. Stay where youare.Distributethesubsystemsbetween yourselves andcontrolthemfromthereservepositions."

***

The Eurasian fighters

were getting closer. Theirpilots had switched toencrypted channels, but theFounders' decipheringmodule decoded theirmessagesinnotime.

"Number seven toflagship.Theenemycrafthaschanged its signature and is

preparingtolaunch.""Attack it. Disable its

shields. Destroy its engines.Dowhateverittakesbutdon'tlet it escape. The assaultgroup is one light minuteaway."

The swarm of brightdotssplitup.Twentyofthem—thenewimprovedversionsofCondors—cameforus.

Our reactors were at50%. Plasma-forming had

commenced in their workingzone.My docking pylons—yes,mine,that'sexactlyhowIfeltit—grappledthestation'shull.

It shuddered fromimpacts.

"We'reunderattack!""Allpostsbeprepared!"The ship's shieldswere

throbbing. I activated thespace defense systems. Theupper hemisphere weapons

opened up with automaticfire. The assault group washeadingstraightforus,tryingan attacking pass but unableto break through our barragefire. We shot down three ofthe Condors; the othersturned back and resumedscanning, seeking forgaps inourdefense.

The ship shudderedagain.Thestationdidn'twantto let us go. Some of the

millennia-old docking pylonshadjammed.

I activated the lowerthrusters. The unyieldingdocking pylons crunchedunder pressure. A few ofthem ripped out of thestation's hull together withsome of its superstructure.Thestarshiplistedtoonesideas it took off followed by atrail of debris, but its bodywas intact, its shields still

absorbing the impacts, theupper hemisphere turretschatteringaway.

The station's surfacedippedsharplydownwards.

I maneuvered slowly.Stars drifted by theobservation window. Mystare, supported by thelocation sensors, focused ontheasteroidbelt.

I became engulfed inthe throbbing aura of power

fields. Deep space was mynaturalenvironment.

Iwasmillions of yearsold.

The cruise thrusterskicked in. It felt like amiraculousliberationfromanage-longcaptivity.

My mind keptchanging,remolding.Noideawhat kind of creature I'd beoncethiswasover.

The Founders' station

openedup tomymentaleye,dullandstaticapartfromoneparticular location signalingananomaly.

I concentrated. Myheart missed a beat. Aboutseventymiles away from thelaunchpad,theship'ssensorsdetected a familiar powerimprint.

An active respawnpoint.

The engines throbbed

powerfully andmonotonously, continuing toaccelerate. The remainingfive enemy ships dared notpursueus.

The scanning spherewas pockmarked with paledots, but the assault groupwasunlikelytocatchupwithus.Our starpilgrimwaswayoutoftheirleague.

I made out thickclusters of rocks up ahead.

Beyond them lay theUniverse — the untraveledvoidofouterspace.

I accelerated. The G-forceabsorberskeptthecrewsafe as the ship coveredmillions of miles withinminutes. The sheer power ofthis mammoth was beyondanything I could have everimagined.

I carefully deceleratedastheshipimmersedintothe

asteroidbelt—thedomainoftheOutlaws.

It calculated its coursewhile I maneuvered amidclumpsofenormousbouldersthat closed back up behindme,shield-like.

My temples werethrobbing. Therewas no onepursuingusanymore.

My strength wasdwindlingquickly.Thesepastfewminutesfelt likeawhole

new life. I directed the shiptoward a family of asteroidsand synchronized my speedwiththeirorbitalparameters.

Ikilledtheengines.Wewerecoastingthroughathickmassofspaceboulders.

My mind felt as if ithadbeen re-fused.The ship'ssensors focused my stare,searching for the barelydiscernible glint of theFounders'station.

My caked lipswhispered, "Liori, hold on.I'mcoming."

***

Jurgen, Arbido and

Charon were waiting for menexttothedockingmodule.

Jurgen tried to step inmyway. "Where d'you thinkyou'regoing?"

I shoved him aside.

"I'm taking a Condor. I'mgoingtogetLiori."

"You can't take itanywhere without theactivationcode!"

I didn't answer. Iopened the hatch. TheFounders' neuronet modulesin my body were sure tooverrideanycode.

"Zander, wait! Youcan'tdoit!"

Why did he need to

interfere? Didn't heunderstand that every secondwasprecious?

I swung round,clenching my teeth. "Youseem to have forgotten allaboutGehenna."

"No," he locked myeyes with his angry,determined stare. "Zander,please. Keep your hair on.Ralph has the code. It's hisCondor. It'll only take

seconds. In fact, I might goinstead. I can do it just aswellasyou,trustme."

"This is nothing to dowithyou.Thisisaboutme."

"But Zander, what ifyoudon'tcomeback?Doyouexpect us to keep drifting?Waiting for the Outlaws toarrive? You're the onlypersonwhocanflythisthing,don'tforget!"

His words barely

reachedme through a fog ofragingemotion.Mymindwasstill metamorphing. On onehand, I sensed myself beingthe nucleus of this enormousstarshipbutontheother, thissensation faded under thepressure of all the revivinghumanemotions.

Arbidopulledmyhand."He'sright."

I glared back at him."So do you suggest I should

stay here and leave her theretodie?"

"Jurgen'sright,"Arbidoinsisted. "You're ourcommander. If you hack theCondor,themercsaresuretomisinterpret it. You mightjust as well fit them withslaves' collars. This doesn'tgive you the right to dowhateveryouwant.Youneedtodoitproperly."

"Right. Where's

Ralph?""He's right over there,

fixing some pipes," Jurgensaid. "But please, Zander,think about it. Liori must bedead, otherwise her implantwouldn't have changed itshost.Ittransferredpartofheridentity to you and is nowtrying to nudge you intoaction!"

His arguments rippedmy heart apart. If anything,

they forced my hand. "Liorimight havegiven it tomeofher own free will," I pausedand added sharply, "Jurgen,your job is to restore theship'ssystems.Sothat'swhatyou should be doing. I'll beback.Don'teverdoubtthat."

"Charon,youtellhim!"The Haash cast Jurgen

agrimlook."He'sgoing,"hegrowled."I'mgoingwithhim,too."

"You'rebothnuts!"Iwasabouttoexplode.

ThememoryofLioriputmymind in meltdown. Herdesperateeyesfulloflongingfor an unfulfilled life wereburningthoughmybrain.

I turned to Charon."You're staying with them.There isn't enough room forthetwoofus in theCondor'scockpit."

"I can go in the cargo

module.""No, you don't." The

planwasreadyinmymind.Iwas pretty sure that therespawnpointI'dseenonthescreen was used not only bythe Dargians and thetreacherous mercs, but alsoby those of the Haash whohadn’treceivedtheirpersonalmarkers. The Condor's cargoholdwastheironlychanceofsurvival.

I had no time to arguewithhimsoIPM'dhimsomemental images. He mightgrasp theirsignificancefasterthanwords.

Jurgen shook his headashewatchedmeleave.

I found Ralph almoststraightaway,directedbytheflashes of his plasma torchand the acrid smoke fillingthecorridor.

The life support

pipework, damaged duringthe ancient battle, nowgleamedwithfreshpatches.Itouched the man's shoulder,attractinghisattention.

"Ineedyourship.""You gonna bring it

back?"I knew what he must

have been thinking. His shipwas his most treasuredpossession. I was pretty surehe'dmaxeditouttothelimit,

making it truly unique,otherwise the ship wouldnever have survived itsencounterwiththeEmgles.Amerc's Condor was aguarantee of his or herfreedom — survival even.But this was the onlyfunctional one left. Besides,after our successful escapeattempt the Dargians hadremoved all of the reactorcontrols from the Haash'

shipsandwehadnoideahowlong it might take us torestorethem.

Withoutsayingaword,I offered him the slim boxstill lined with the samespongy substance andcontaining all of theFounders' unexploredsoftware I'd looted inGehenna andwhatever cyberdevices I'd ripped out of thedronesthere.

I threw in a dozenneurochips I'd seized duringthe recent fight with theDargians. Both of us knewthat the Phantom Server'seconomy had collapsed, butat least this kind of currencywasstillacceptable.

Ralphscannedthebox'scontents, considered all thealternatives and gave areluctant nod, appreciatingmy gesture. "Here," he

handed me the code. "It'syours for the time being. ImightbuyitbackoffyouifIgetthechance."

***

I soon lost the

Founders'starshipfromview.To find it among all theclusters of asteroids withoutknowingitsexactcoordinateswouldbetotallyunrealistic.

I began an approachmaneuver on the station.Mypilot'sinstinctsuploadedwiththe reflex enhancer hadallowed me to master theCondor's controls in no time.This ship was well and trulyunique. With its beefed-upengines, enlarged holds,powerful shields and a well-conceived weaponconfiguration, it was nothinglikethestandardfactory-issue

Condor.Allthisflashedthrough

my focused, strung-out mindas it continued scanning thearea.

Athickgroupofbrightdots was moving throughspace: the Eurasia fleet.Argus was surrounded by ashimmering cloud: there, thebattlewasraging, theSecondColonial Fleet's avant-gardeconfronting the Dargians

within the station's orbit.They seemed to be losing atthetime:ifyoumaxedoutthezoom you could see thestation's defense systemsworking, preventing theattackers from launching anyassaultgroups.

The abandonedFounders' station seemedquiet. I scanned thefrequencies, listening in onthe Eurasia's conversations.

All theirattentionwasonthebattleforArguswhichwoulddecidethefateofthisworld.

I was too tired to lookinto everything that hadhappenedinlessthantwenty-four hours of gaming time.Mynerveswereburningout.The station loomed rapidlyintoview.TherespawnpointI'd discovered earliercontinued flashing its brightroundmarker.

TheonlythingIwantednowwas to snatch Liori andtheremainingHaashfromthenever-ending circle ofinhuman torture. If I couldjust look her in the eye andsee the pain dissipate, Iwouldn't want for anythingelse.

Iinitiatedthemaneuverwith the station. At first, thenumerous hull structuresseemed to blur into endless

lines on the screens; thentheir rapid rotation sloweddown, breaking themup intoseparate groups of ruins. Ikept descending, passingthrough their raggedsummitsuntil the ship's dockingpylonscaressedthehull.

The target respawnpoint was 450 feet away. Itmusthavebeenlocatedinoneof theburned-outmodulesofthe primary hull. My suit's

sensors registered itssignature. The navigationsystem busied itself plottingtheroute.

Ihadacoupleofrepairrobots in my inventory aswell as some spare parts forthe suit, batteries and lifesupport cartridges. I got outand activated the movementcoordinator in order to reachthe nearest hole in thestation'shull.Belowitlaythe

openingofanancienttunnel.Farahead,Icouldmake

out some weak flashes ofgreen light. Mechanically Iquickened my pace, gratefulfor the individual gravitygenerator which allowed metomovefreely.

The flashes grewbrighter and closer but Icouldn't see their source yetfrom behind the deformedbulkheads. To add to it, the

collapsed hull with its sparsand depleted armor hungdown overhead. Vacuumreignedhere.

I headed for the light,making my way through thedestroyedrooms.ThenIfrozeon thespot.Myheartmissedabeat.

Therespawnpoint.A new green flash

materialized a Dargian in adecompressed suit.

Immediately he dropped totheground,hisavatarfading.Two Haash followed. Theymanaged to run a few pacesmore, with identical results.The vacuum and the cosmiccoldleftthemnochance.

New flashes keptcoming. I kept the powershieldattheready.

Liori,wherethehellareyou?

Suddenly the brief

succession of reincarnationsstopped, submerging thecrumblingdeckintodarkness.

What was that now? Iswitched over to the sensors,my stare searching for thealready-familiar icon andactivatingit.

Scan therespawnpoint

equipment.The deck's floor

revealed the outlines ofcables and pipework. As faras I knew, everythingwas inperfectworkingorder.

Themovementdetectorpingedanxiously.

Several figures clad inhightechsuitssimilartominestepped out of the darkness.Outlaws. About twenty ofthem,closinginonme.

I still could fight mywaythrough.

"Not so fast, Zander,"the voice definitely soundedfamiliar. "You've gotnowheretorun."

I recognized him, ofcourse. "Jyrd?What's up?" Iturned round slowly, playingfor time while trying todecide on which directionwas best to fight through."Why has the respawningstopped?Isityoucontrollingit?"Iinvestedallmysarcasm

and disbelief into the lastphrase.

He stepped towardme."You can't control theFounders' machines," heanswered calmly, ignoringmy quip. "You can use theFounders' neuronet implantsthough to switch them on oroff. Like when you need toattract someone's attention,"hegrinned.

"You're lying. I've just

seen some Dargians andHaashresurrecthere."

'Holographic artwork,"he replied nonchalantly."Let's get to the point. I'msorry but you've stolen myship,man.You'llhavetogiveitback."

"I didn't steal it. Wewonitinbattle."

"The Dargians workedfor me!" he snapped, losinghispatience."Iwassurprised,

I have to admit, when youmanaged to fly it. I want itscoordinates.Whereisit?"

Theyhadn'tmanagedtotraceitscourse,great.

My friends werewaiting for me there. Therewas no way I was going tohand them over to theOutlaws.

Jyrd seemed to realizethat."Ifyoudon'ttellusnow,your neural AIs will," his

voice was rife with menace."You know very well whathappens when someone dieswithout a respawn pointavailable. Their bodies rejectthe artifacts. All I'll do, I'llpickthemupfromyourdeadbodyandabsorbthem."

I threw my both armsup in the air, pointing theintegrated guns at him. Theydidn'twork.Theservomotorsweredead.

"Good try," he walkedover to me, fearing nothinganymore. "For futurereference: I was the founderof the Technologists' Clan. Ideveloped much of itsequipment personally. Jurgendoesn't know everything," headded confidentially. "Everyarmored suit has a secretremotecontrolmodule.Here,look."

Myhelmet'svisorlitup

withasystemmessage,Maintenance mode

initiated. Time untildecompression:60seconds.

The message blinked

andwentout."I have to admit,

Zander,you'reabitofadarkhorse. You have potential.Apparently you can fly theFounders' ship and this is a

very valuable skill. Also,neural AIs have their ownfragmented personalities, sotospeak.They'reverychoosywho they work with. It'sfunnyhowyourworstenemycan become a friendsometimes," he added. "ButJurgen painted us in a verybad light and you believedhim,didn'tyou?"

"Why,washewrong?""It all depends on your

point of view. Jurgen is awuss. He bought into thisworld'sauthenticityforgettingwho he used to be. Wehaven't."

"So what do youwant?"Iasked."TobringtheLogout button back? Youwant to escape? Then whywould you need the ship ortheartifacts?What'sthepointusingtheFounders'stuff?Gocap in hand to the Admins

and see if they succumb toyourpleas."

He smirked. "Do youreally think they can do it?What if you're mistaken andthey're but pawns insomebody else's game? HasLiori toldyouanythingatallabout the Founders'network?"

"Isshealive?""You bet she is," he

saidwith disdain. "Once you

give me the ship'scoordinates, you can haveeverythingyouwant."

"No.Sorry.""Whatever," he

shrugged. "I might be backafter the first thirty respawnsorso.Togiveyouamomentto think. Trust me, that'splentyoftimetoreconsider."

He swung round andwalked away. The othersfollowed. My suit was still

dead.I was enveloped by

darkness,myheavybreathingtheonly sound in the cosmicsilence.

Images from the neuralAIs flooded my mind,blending.

I could see the Haashresting in life supportcapsules not unlike our in-modeones.

IcouldseethePhantom

Server. Still, I didn't believeJyrd. This was a game, afamiliarworldthatfollowedawell-programmed set ofgamingrules.

He'd been trying todeceiveandconfuseme.Youcouldn'tcreateagameusingareal-world hyperspatialnetwork.

He'd been lying —trying to trick me intobetraying the ship's location.

Assimpleasthat.Onceagainthevisorlit

upwiththespitefulwarning,Maintenance mode

initiated. Time untildecompression:60seconds.

Jyrdknewwhathewas

doing. The events of the lastfewdays flashed throughmymind.BothneuralAIssprangbacktolife.

Time until

decompression:60seconds59seconds58seconds57seconds...EndofBookOne

Tobecontinuedin

PhantomServerBook#2:TheOutlaw

AnnexTheMC'sstatsasofthe

firstbook'send:

Zander. Outlaw. Level20.Pilot.

Intellect,7pt.(+1bonus

fromtheSemanticProcessor)Strength,7pt.Willpower, 7 pt. (mind

expander installationconditionsmet)

Agility,5pt.Perception, 5 pt (+2

bonus from the semanticprocessor)

Stamina,5pt.Learning Skills, 7pt.

(mind expander installationconditionsmet)

Skills:Piloting of Small

SpacecraftPilotingofMediumand

LargeSpacecraftCombatManeuveringRepairs

AlienTechnologiesCombatSkillsNavigationUniqueabilities:FriendoftheHaash.+1 toall characteristics

every time the characterfightsalongsidetheHaash.

BerserkWhenever Zander

fightsunarmedwithlessthan5% Health, he is able toignore the enemy's defenses,dealingonlycriticaldamage.

The sight of himterrifies all creatures underlevel20.Theyflee,unabletoattackhim.

RobotTechnician+10% to damage dealt

toallmachines.

Implantsinstalled:Semantic processor

(Dargianconfiguration)Mind expander

SynapsZ Universal (byNeurusCorporation)

Reflexenhancer(aone-of-a-kind working modeldeveloped by theTechnologistsClan)

Metabolic corrector:Xenus Universal (by Xenus

Corporation)The Founders' AI

neuronet:twomodulesQuests yet to be

completed:Phantom Server 1. The

MysteryofHyperspaceImmortalHardwareAlienMind

ThankyouforpurchasingEdgeofReality(Phantom

Server:Book#1)!

Inordertohavenewbooksoftheseriestranslatedfaster,weneedyourhelpandsupport!Pleaseconsiderleavinga

reviewathttp://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00WR7WRMS

orspreadthewordbyrecommendingPhantom

Servertoyourfriendsandpostingthelinkonsocial

media.Themorepeoplebuythebook,thesoonerwe'llbeabletomakenewtranslations

available.Thankyou!

AbouttheAuthor

Andrei Livadny is a

popular Russian science

fiction author. Born on May271969in thecityofPskov,hewasanavidreaderfromanearly age. But it was theRussian translation ofRobertA.Heinlein'sTheOrphansofthe Sky that decided hischoice of future occupation.The story has become apivotal moment in the boy'slife, leaving a lastingimpressiononhim.

Andrei wrote his first

book at the age of eight.Sincethen,he'sneverstoppedworking on new books. Hispassionforsciencefictionhasgraduallybecomehiscareer.

In 1998, Andreidebuted in Russia's leadingpublishing house EKSMOwithhisnovellaTheIslandofHope. Since then, he haspenned over 90 books thathave enjoyed a total of 153editions.

Andrei has createdseveral unique worlds, eachunliketheprevious.HewroteAHistoryofOurGalaxywithhumanity itself as aprotagonist. This sixty-bookseriescreatesahistoryofourfuture civilization and itscontacts with alien races,forming a convincing andlogical picture of humanity'sdevelopment for twomillenniafromnow.

Besides hard sciencefiction, Andrei Livadny alsoworks in cyberpunk genreswhich allowhim to focus onhumanrelationshipsandraisequestions about artificialintelligence and identityuploading, describingcyberspace as humanity'sfutureenvironment.

The Englishtranslation of A History ofOurGalaxywill be available

shortly. Check the author'sRussian-language site forupdates.