The Outlaw (Phantom Server: Book #2) (4 page)

My gaze alighted on the next icon,

Perform test activation.

* * *

I expected anything but not the thick sticky darkness that clouded my mind.

Had the mind expander frozen? That was all I needed!

Just as I was thinking this, two shadows formed in the twilight recesses of my mind.

Emotions flooded over me: pelting me with dread, breathing warmth into me.

Everything happened in a rapid succession of contrasts. The first figure exuded paralyzing cold. Under my fixed stare its features gained a definite resemblance to mine. We know very little about the Founders' AIs. Jurgen had once said that they could copy the matrix of a human mind, but only on condition that contact was long and uninterrupted. Such cases had been few — and all of them, according to Jurgen, had had lethal consequences for the humans involved.

I looked at the gloom-wrapped copy of myself with mixed feelings.

I'd only had my first neuronet for two months or so. True, it had helped me out a few times when the going had gotten critical but we'd never had any conscious interaction that I could think of.

The more intently I peered at it, the sharper the image grew. And the closer it came into focus, the less I liked it. There was something repulsive about my face as if I was staring into a convex mirror; I could see indifference — no, disdain — on the curving lips of my smirking copy. In his eyes I read,
You're too weak and worthless — too primitive.

Struggling to maintain self-control, I memorized his ID code that was shaped as a translucent pictogram, then focused on the second figure.

This image exuded warmth. It flowed, distorting, like a mirage born of a heat haze. It didn't have a face. My attempt to zoom in on it in order to add detail had the opposite effect: the blurred figure shrank into the darkness, fearing our merging as if begging me silently,
please don't
.

Fire and Ice.

Two opposite feelings burned my mind; crumpled my soul.

These were only chains of artificial neurons that, as chance would have it, had been braided into my nervous system.

This wasn't how I'd imagined my first contact with ancient AIs! Had Avatroid indeed been right and every implanted neuronet soaked up its host's emotions, thoughts and urges?

“Liori?” the bitter whisper fell from my lips, the one word summing up everything that we hadn't said — everything that we'd feared and failed to say to each other.

My phantom twin smirked with disgust.

No, I hadn't been mistaken. For a brief moment the familiar features came into focus — the little flames in her eyes, flickering and expiring.

“Zander, I'm dead. This is only my ghost dwelling in your mind. I'm sorry. Very soon it'll be gone, too. I will dissolve in your identity... forever...”

Her image rippled into a haze of tiny ash-like particles which transformed into the symbols of the Founders' language and whirled toward me in a blast of scorching wind.

* * *

The interior of the module swam before my eyes. Messages started popping up just below the icons of my mental interface,

Test activation: complete

You have received nanites activation code.

Three new command sequences available: Replication, Steel Mist, Object Replication.

New ability received: Replication. Your nanites are now able to increase in numbers, forming a fully functional colony. The self-replication of nanites requires a source of energy and a suitable material with at least 10% cargonite content.

New ability received: Steel Mist. The nanites will generate a false signature, concealing you from detection systems at a ratio of 1 to 5 (that is to say, a level-2 Steel Mist can protect you from level-10 detection systems, etc.)

New ability received: Object Replication. The nanites can generate stable molecular bonds, recreating particular items or devices provided their data is available.

New task alert! Reincarnation.

You have made direct contact with the Founders' neuronet modules. You must make a choice. Allow them access to your mind expander or block them forever.

Decision deadline: 24 hours.

Oh, great. At least they gave me twenty-four hours to make up my mind! All these mind games had already started to get on my nerves, adding the bitter note of irreparable loss to my desperate curiosity for what was awaiting me next.

Trying to suppress the gnawing thoughts, I opened the Mnemotechnics tab and entered the nanites activation code.

The pain subsided — it now lurked deeper, a dull ache in my chest. The unusual sensations nagged at me. I found it annoying. Game worlds always have space for outbursts of emotion, we're only human after all, but I'd never had it this bad — frustration slicing through my heart, plunging me into the depths of desperate grief.

She couldn't have died! She must have respawned somewhere — I wish I knew where, but still...

I cut the thought short. The activation code worked. Immediately the nanites seeped out, forming a tiny cloud that stayed in my field of vision wherever I looked.

Right. First of all I needed to replicate them. The thought helped to distract me from the sudden upsurge of emotion.

The procedure seemed pretty straightforward. I just hoped the entire process had been automated enough not to require any specialist knowledge on my part. I focused on the icon, activating it.

To create a molecular mist, you need the initial material and a source of energy. Please specify an unneeded object suitable for utilization.

Ah! That was a pleasant surprise! I didn't have any micro nuclear batteries to spare but I immediately thought about the mob! Could this Replication thing be actually used as a combat device? Let's see if we can outsmart the ancient technologies and squeeze an extra ability out of them?

Following my command, the barely visible cloud of nanites turned into a semblance of a whiff of smoke and reached toward the mob, filtering into its works. And then...

A blinding flash of light illuminated the room. A humming column of fire engulfed the ceiling. It singed me, the blast wave slamming me into the wall. The ancient mob had disintegrated into a swarm of incandescent particles that immediately filled the whole room.

I couldn't breathe! Oxygen levels were at 0, depleted by the fiery blast. Toxin concentration had jumped to 100%. My life bar was rapidly shrinking.

What had I been thinking of!

Replication complete
.

I was enveloped in a smoky veil of hundreds of thousands of nanobots.

My lips cracked, my skin was taut against my cheekbones. The reserves of my body were rapidly depleting, losing the uneven battle with the toxic atmosphere.

10% Life... 9%...

I used both my hands to force the helmet's visor down — impossible. The drivers were blocked. My fingers kept losing their grip. I'd have given anything for a piece of sealing plastic the right size!

Symbols of the ancient language flashed before my eyes.

Command sequence activated. The replication matrix accepted.

In a flash, nanites formed an impervious membrane blocking my view and sealing the helmet.

A breath of clean air burned my lungs. I exploded in a bout of coughing.

I couldn't see a thing.

Warning! Your life support resources are at 5%. Please replace the cartridge ASAP.

I didn't have any spare ones! The Outlaws had stripped me of them!

My face was stinging, my eyes running. The metabolic implant was in overdrive.

The nanobots had just saved me from certain death but who'd issued the order? How had they known exactly what they had to do? My two AI modules had been temporarily blocked as the task demanded, so they couldn't have affected the situation.

This was going way beyond the scope of normalcy. I was used to relying on my gear, my weapons and implants — but as it turned out, there were other ways of survival, too. Destroying the mob had been a bad choice. I should have considered the consequences before creating a molecular mist in a sealed module.

Gradually my breathing calmed down. The helmet remained pressurized. I still couldn't see a thing though. I switched over to my mind expander which showed me a detailed picture of the vandalized module. Its walls were molten, exploded equipment still smoking. In the far corner, a small impact crater emitted a red glow. The force field protecting the entrance had deactivated.

What's with my suit's drives? I made a tentative movement. They seemed to be okay. I could move. The servodrives didn’t seem to have suffered. The armor had withstood the blast. I had enough metabolites to last me another couple of hours. In that time I had to get back to the outer decks; and once there, my ship was virtually within reach.

First things first. The logs.

I opened the file and scrolled through the messages.

10:01:39 You’ve initiated the process of nanites replication.

10:01:42 You’ve specified an object suitable for utilization

10:01:47 Molecular mist created

10:01:48 Damage received: 347 pt. thermal damage. Blast wave damage: 34 pt. Radiation damage: 105 pt. Durability of all pieces of gear dropped 12 pt.

10:01:50 You’ve suffered toxic exposure. Damage received: 39 pt.

10:01:51 Your metabolic implant has restored 20 pt. Health

10:01:52. You've suffered toxic exposure. Damage received: 39 pt.

10:01:54 Your metabolic implant has restored 18 pt. Health

10:01:55 Nanites have received a mnemonic command. Source: mind expander.

10:01:55 The mental image recognized. The replication matrix accepted.

10:02:03 Nanites have restored your gear's hermetic properties.

So! This new development branch had exceeded all expectations! My Mnemotechnics skill was still at a humble level 1 but it had already saved my life allowing the nanites to replicate an image they had extracted from my mind!

I understood of course that this protective membrane of nanites was in fact the most basic of objects — but the prospects of their use defied imagination. I couldn't stop thinking about Avatroid, replaying the scene in my mind, watching the incandescent particles swirl around forming his sensors and devices, servodrives and various elements of his weapons and armor. Did that mean that once I leveled it up I'd achieve the same heights of artistry?

A small swarm of leftover nanites was hovering in my field of vision. Could I issue another command to them, maybe?

I selected a replication matrix and held my breath, visualizing a life support cartridge. Immediately the nanites reacted by swirling into the air, changing their symmetry and forming an unstable outline of the desired and much needed object. It gained shape and substance, then dropped on the floor with a thump.

For your information: the nanites colony has been split. 30,546 of its elements have formed stable molecular bonds and can't be reused. In order to use nanobots, you must replicate them again.

I lifted the cartridge and looked it over with a sigh. This was a dummy. Perfect in shape and size but made of homogenous material that looked like porous plastic. Not a hint of the chemicals inside.

Well, what do you expect at level 1? Visualizing an object was the easiest thing. I still needed to know its structure and purpose.

I shoved the useless thing into my inventory. I absolutely had to level up Mnemotechnics and Alien Technologies too. I also needed to get hold of the Technologists Clan's databases, copy them and store them in the mind expander. Those were the schemes of hundreds of devices I might need one day and my memory just couldn't hold them all.

All in all, things were looking up. The main thing now was to get back to the ship and return to the asteroid. I had the funny feeling that Jurgen and I had a few things to discuss.

* * *

Having left the vandalized module, I returned to the already familiar elevator shaft and began the long and slow climb up, grabbing at the ledges of the gravity compensators. My power was seriously down, my servodrives at 30% of their capacity. I could forget the gravity generator: my batteries were way too low.

The ancient depths echoed with disturbing sounds, scanners flashing warning scarlet lights barely within range. The climb took the wind out of me. My strength dwindled. Still, I couldn't stop now.

Finally I reached the outer decks. Not so long ago, this area had been completely depressurized but now I could see a yellow mist swirl leisurely just above the floor. I peered around. Why didn't I see the decompression emissions?