The Outlaw (Phantom Server: Book #2) (23 page)

“Is this a plant or an animal?” I asked Kathryn.

She didn't reply at once. She turned pale. Her lips moved silently. “I'll need a tissue sample.”

I ordered the nanobots to do so. They only had to shave off a couple of cells. The creature was unlikely to notice anything.

The Dargians hadn't budged. They were probably holding counsel discussing what to do next.

While Kathryn was analyzing the sample, I summed up the whole picture. The lab's power cables seemed to be undamaged. They had been laid inside the framework; I could see lengths of fat cables reaching out toward force field generators and other appliances. Everything here had been well-conceived and well-thought out: planned to last an eternity.

The reactor room was separated from the upper floors by an automatic overload protection system. At some point in the past, it must have gone off, de-energizing the whole location.

“Kathryn, what's up? What is it? Tell us.”

She didn't look herself. “Zander, that's it. We won't make it any further. No one will.”

“Why?”

“This is neither a plant nor an animal. This,” she could barely speak, “this thing is patched together from bits of various DNAs from all over the universe.”

“How is it possible?”

“It's not! Not naturally, anyway. It must have been made by the lab's AI.”

“Why would it need it?”

“No idea! Maybe it was bored. Or it wanted extra protection. Or it just glitched. Whatever you do, don't even try to provoke it!”

“I won't. But the Disciples might.”

“Then we need to get the hell out of here!”

Foggs studied the data. “Its bottom is a plant. And its top is an animal, right?” he said simple-heartedly. “It uses its roots to draw nutrients from the ground. It also eats its own leaves,” he showed us a video taken by the nanites. There, the lithe growths of muscle hanging down from the ceiling of the reactor block greedily fed on the thick vegetation below. “What's there to be afraid of?”

“Really,” Vandal agreed. “This is nothing compared to some mobs I've seen.”

“You two don't understand anything!” Kathryn snapped. “It only does that because there's no other food around! That's the only way it can survive! But it can transform into anything it wants!”

“How do you know?” Foggs asked.

“This wretched tissue sample has done it twenty times already trying to escape the scanner! It very nearly chewed its way through!”

“Did you kill it?” Vandal asked anxiously.

“I'm trying to!”

* * *

We waited to see what the Dargians would do but they kept holding counsel. I too had a lot to consider now. This discovery changed everything. We had to apply common sense. Kathryn seemed to be right: this location was way out of our league. And still I kept having this nagging sensation that the dungeon was doable. There had to be a solution, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to enter it.

Foggs appeared more confident than the others. “Whassup, guys?” he eyed the distance between us and the bundles of flesh. “Just stay put and enjoy the show. The Dargians will do the rest. I'm curious what this thing can do.”

I had to agree. There wasn't much love lost between the Dargians and myself.

“You're right, dude,” Vandal switched on his built-in camera. “A video of this battle will buy me a Raptor at least! Then I can finally settle down. I'll be flitting from station to station, trading in all sorts of stuff. What do you think?”

“You're not the only one who'll be filming it,” Foggs teased him. “I want my share.”

“I didn't say no, did I?” Vandal joked. I already knew this was a bad sign. He was about to break down. We all were.

The nanites came back and filled the dents in my suit.

Zander, do you want me to disconnect?
Liori asked softly.
Your mnemonic ability is in overload. I can work independently.

No. Stay posted. Be prepared to jump in. I'm granting you temporary access to my mind expander. If for some reason I fail to react in time, it's up to you to give orders.

I wondered if I had jumped the gun putting so much trust in her. This direct neurosensory contact thing was going to my head. In the few moments we'd spent together, our souls had already read deep within each other's hearts.

“The first one's off!” Vandal wheezed.

Indeed, one of the Disciples had switched his gravitech on and soared into the air.

That was clever. I would have done the same thing.

For a short while, nothing happened. In a well-practiced motion, the Disciple changed his direction and began rising into the air, trying to see as much as he could.

The layer of flesh covering the floor began to bulge. I had no idea how on earth this enormous creature had noticed the motion. The lab had no power, and the camera sensors batteries had been long dead, too. Besides, the Dargian was stealthed. I could only see him thanks to my Synaps, but this bulging heap of flesh had no mind expanders! And as far as I could see, it had no sensory organs of its own.

The Dargian expertly slowed down and now hovered in the air at about fifteen feet from the floor, immobile and perfectly inconspicuous. But still the mass of flesh wouldn't calm down.

The layer of muscle covering the vertical supports next to him began to swirl. Just as Kathryn had warned us, the creature transformed instantaneously.

Dozens of eyes opened their wrinkled eyelids, their stare dim and indifferent.

The Dargian froze.

Then the thing attacked. Taut sinews of muscle shot out from all directions toward the victim. The Disciple attempted to wriggle himself free, but the thing entangled him, ever constricting. We heard the screeching of deformed metal and the crunching of bones.

The Dargian's body dropped to the floor, to be devoured by a promptly materialized mouth.

“Retreat,” I said. It was pretty clear the Disciples weren't going to battle their way through. They were experienced enough to know their limitations. I listened in to their conversations. I'd already scanned their communication frequencies — that wasn't a problem — but my deciphering module had failed to crack their channel.

In any case, the movement of their signatures betrayed their intentions. Armed with heavy plasma generators, they relieved their cordon and headed for the entrance into the lab. Four of them stayed outside while six walked in.

Dammit! Now we were caught between them!

I pushed a door next to me. “Here, quick!”

We dove in. The room was small. Apparently, it too used to be occupied by lumps of flesh but for some unknown reason it had died, covering the insides of the room in a layer of limp stinking putrescence. It was a good job we were wearing sealed suits.

The nanites kept streaming data. I could see the Dargians enter the corridor.

“Zander, what do we do?” Foggs raised his gun. “Should we let these ones through and fight past those who stayed behind? There're only four of them!”

I hadn't expected this scenario. I'd thought we might do at least some of the dungeon simply by following the Disciples. But how were we supposed to know the place was what it was?

“If they use plasma on it, it'll go into enrage,” Vandal stated. “The thing will go nuts and smoke everyone in sight.”

He was dead right. The very fact that a force field had been placed around the ancient lab should have warned us. And now it had been breached! Nothing could prevent the ancient bio mass from escaping its centuries-long imprisonment.

“Zander, do something!” Kathryn shrieked. “You brought us here! I don't want to respawn!”

I tightened the Steel Mist around us. Dragging the plasma generators, the Disciples ran right past the still-open door of our room. But they had more pressing things on their agenda than looking for us. The Flesh had already located them and grown a dozen meaty tentacles. The corridor exploded in a shootout.

My Piercing Vision offered blood-curdling pictures. Three of the elite soldiers who'd been covering the main group's retreat had been sent to their respawn points within seconds.

The Dargians didn't panic. They split and shrank into the walls, allowing the first of the plasma generators to do its job.

A clump of temporarily stabilized plasma flashed through the air. A fireball hit the tangled mass of tentacles.

A deafening scream shook the caves. The floor shuddered underground. The steel walls convulsed, crumpling. Ash filled the air.

In a brief silence we heard a disgusting squelching sound. The Flesh reared up, forming some monstrous creature which kept growing, yet unable to rip open the pulsating cocoon enveloping it.

The second plasma generator struck, filling the air with sickening smoke and reducing the yet-unborn monster to ashes.

The walls and the ceiling came alive with new tentacles. They grew rapidly, covered in a great many lumps which burst, letting out dozens of disgusting deadly creatures.

The door of our room vibrated as Flesh flooded the wall outside.

The Dargians weren't going to resist for much longer. Which meant we wouldn't survive, either!

But what if-

When you're cornered, you start thinking out of the box because you have nothing left to lose.

I'm pretty sure my external neuronet must have had something to do with it. My mind was flooded with images, flashing a succession of snapshots; some of the pics were overlapped with diagrams of various machines from my Technologists Clan's database. Yes, yes, I knew it might work but not quite now. Now we had to bide for time. We needed a minute at least!

I contacted the Disciples. The nanites kept streaming the picture: I saw one of them, apparently the leader, stop shooting as he heard my phrase on an open frequency translated by their semantic processors. He maxed out their scanners and glanced at the door already covered by the Flesh.

“Who the hell are you?”

“An ally,” I had to choose my words carefully if I wanted us to avoid respawning. My men shouted their indignation but I didn't care.

“A human?!”

He had some good scanners there. “Cool down. We're losing time and lives. I can destroy the Flesh.”

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you think? The loot and XP are good here,” I knew that our semantic processors could translate gaming slang. “Without us, you're not gonna make it, I'm afraid.”

The Disciple was furious. Humans in their sancta sanctorum! Still, the situation was too dire. These high-level expert fighters could barely contain the monsters born of the Flesh.

He must have seen it himself as he overcame his xenophobia to clutch at any straw. “What are your conditions, Human?”

“I'll try to neutralize the Flesh. What you need to do is don't let it breach our door. Mop up the corridor. If it goes as I plan, we'll make a group and do the dungeon together. This way we'll share all the XP and the loot. It's up to you.”

“Are you mad?” Kathryn hissed. “Make up a group with Dargians? I'd rather die!”

“Oh, do shut up,” Vandal snapped, thrilled with the new developments. I could understand him. This way the Disciples would give us a free ride through these deadly tunnels. He knew very well we might never get another chance like this. Even if everything ended in tears, we'd still keep the levels and then I wouldn't want to be one of those slave drivers awaiting us by the respawn point. After doing this dungeon, any one of us would be able to snap their necks single-handedly.

“Very well,” I could see the decision had cost him dearly. I just hoped he wouldn't go back on his word.

I received an invitation to join their group. The others did too. I accepted. Now we could see the Dargians' nicknames.

“Do it, Human! Whatever it is, just make it quick!”

Roaring flames whooshed through the narrow tunnel. The tentacles blocking the door shriveled. But I knew it wasn't going to last long.

I injected myself with the cartridge Kathryn had given me and lunged out into the corridor.

The bumper dose of alien metabolites helped me to stay lucid despite the inhuman pressure.

You ready?
I asked Liori.

Yes,
she answered curtly, knowing I must have been struggling to maintain my concentration. We only had one try.

Thanks to my investing most of the available XP points into Replication, I now had nine nanite colonies to play with. Three of them were currently under Liori's control; two more were busy forming the Steel Mist and supporting my Piercing Vision. As for the rest, I simply didn't have them. I'd had neither the time nor the need to create more.

Thrown back by the strikes of plasma, a chunk of flesh had blocked the corridor. Now it was unhurriedly heading for us, charred and bleeding. Its furious tentacles crept across the walls and the ceiling, attacking as they approached. It crushed another Disciple in his armor suit; his plasma generator was lying on the floor, sparking, its mountings deformed.

“Roakhmar,” I addressed the Disciples leader, “I will need a personal force shield. I want you to cover me with yours. Try to stretch it enough. The others should step back and take cover,” I marked the safe distance on my map.