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I WAS AWOKEN by an insistent scratching at my door, as if a cat were asking to be let back in after coming back from a prowl through the neighborhood. It took a few seconds to finally wake up and get my bearings. So, I was in the game, and I fell asleep in my captain’s bunk. I saw no sense in going into the real world to rest. First of all, this was space, a “red zone” and my character wasn’t going to be disappearing regardless. And second, with Tamara transferred into the parallel magocratic world, my room under the Dome felt somehow empty and dreary.
But why so quiet? The strange silence shook me from my slumber and made me jump out of bed instantly. You see, a starship flying through hyperspace is never supposed to be silent. It’s always making some noise or another: the measured hum of the engines, the barely perceptible buzz of the power unit, the crackle of the gravity compensators. Sometimes you can even hear the fuselage creaking under strain. But there was none of that now, and that had me very afraid!
I heard the scratching again and opened the door. In the doorway was the Miyelonian Translator Gerd Ayni. The orange kitty’s hair was standing on end, and she looked worried:
“Captain Gnat, you’re needed on the bridge. Something strange has happened.”
With a brisk gait, I headed for the bridge. Everyone who was left after the asteroid was already there. Even Vaa the Morphian came to catch a glimpse of the unusual scene. And it really was a sight to behold: there were three plasma clouds spinning unhurried circles around our frigate in the vast expanse of space. Satellites?! And a whole three!!! Had anyone ever seen something like this before? And by the way, why was the starship in normal space, not hyper? I asked the last question out loud.
Ayukh the Navigator tore himself from the external camera monitor and commented:
“Captain, the Symbiotes appeared suddenly, and three of them at once. Right after that, our hyperdrive turned off and the frigate got spat out into normal space. Then a bit later, our defensive shield also got cut. Before the shield was turned off, there was an attempt to attach an ‘external device’ to our power unit, and it succeeded. We had given a satellite access to our power source before, so it figured it was entitled to do so again. But as it stands, the situation is not great: the Symbiotes have taken over our power and are distributing it as they see fit, siphoning it to themselves while keeping all our laser cannons and thrusters switched off. And without a qualified Engineer, I’m afraid that we’ll have no way of taking back control.”
“There is also a nonstop stream of weird symbols on that screen,” the orange Ayni pointed a clawed paw at my workstation’s flickering monitor. “Ayukh called me to figure it out, but I have never seen symbols like them before and the framerate is too high for Miyelonian eyes.”
I saw the little blotches as soon as I came in, but I figured the monitor was just malfunctioning. Hrm... Problem. But my Danger Sense wasn’t making a peep, so there was also no immediate threat. We had simply been stopped for investigation.
“So, what is this place?” I asked, sitting at my workstation and trying to fire up my instruments.
The Navigator looked confused. It seemed like he hadn’t even asked himself that question yet. The Geckho typed some commands into the console and a detailed answer came back ten seconds later:
“The H9051/WD system. Or to be more accurate, the very edge of it. The ‘juncture’ with the neighboring K0987/AA system, so to speak. Three uninhabitable planets – a roasting hot sphere by the star and two gas giants. According to the guide, this system is considered unstable and, in seventy million tongs, the two large planets will collide. The neighboring system is a white dwarf with no planets. Overall, nothing of interest. A random point where we got spat out of a hyperspace tunnel.”
“Random? Then what is that?” I sent the Navigator some data from the ship’s locator:
Distance: 670 miles. Debris from starship of unknown design.
Distance: 3597 miles. Debris from starship of unknown design.
Distance: 12508 miles. Unknown ship. Signature not found in database. Most likely belongs to class “long-distance scout ship” or “assault cruiser.”
Distance: 17863 miles. Debris from Trillian research probe.
Distance: 20788 miles. Debris from starship of unknown design.
A true ship graveyard... It must not have been a coincidence that we were yanked out of hyperspace in this very spot. Something peculiar was going on here. Ominous even. And it wasn’t just the dark unresponsive starship twelve thousand miles away. I tried to use the frigate’s scanning equipment to take a closer look at the mysterious “assault cruiser,” but the screen immediately went dark. The Symbiotes didn’t like what I was trying to do, and cut power to the starship’s scanning devices. Those rats!
The Navigator then stroked his nose with his paw thoughtfully and agreed that this location was not merely random:
“Yes captain. This is the boundary between star systems and seemingly a gravity rift, a weak point in the fabric of space. For that reason, many routes in hyperspace pass through this point in some way or another. And there’s something else I find strange: we have flown this way before, yet this is the first time the Symbiotes have taken an interest in us.”
I was reminded of a system warning I got when choosing the name of my new Relict Faction. It said the name had its own history, which might lead to unexpected allies and enemies. Seemingly, we were now observing a consequence of that very ancient history. Okay, but that was all empty conjecture. What to do right here and now?
Seemingly, the only way out was to establish contact with our captors. The three Symbiotes could have destroyed our frigate long ago, but they hadn’t and were waiting for something. But what? It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out, given they’d flooded our communications system with messages. Like it or not, we’d have to figure them out. I turned my attention to the flickering screen. Hrm... I couldn’t make head or tail of it, and to my eye there was no real way to do so.
I tried to put it on pause or take a screenshot. That made things a bit better, but there was also precious little to be happy about – the screen was displaying columns of vertical dashes and slanted lines which seemed impossible to assemble into sensible text. Was that really the language of the Precursors?
“Kirsan, you’re needed on the bridge!” I mentally called the mechanoid repair bot.
And why not? The repair bot was around back in the times of the great war between the ancient races and perhaps would be able to understand the language of the Mechanoids’ archnemesis. Thankfully, it only took a couple seconds for the white-painted flat metallic millipede to poke its head out of the ventilation and gracefully descend the vertical wall to the floor.
When I asked about the writing on the screen, Kirsan asked the Jarg to lend him his Universal Translator and answered:
“Situation to understand. Ancient enemy. Aggression. Question. Wait for answer. Countdown. Then attack.”
Well, well! So the symbols on screen weren’t simply a rendering of disjointed signals. The satellites, as it turned out, were asking us a question and now waiting for an answer. I asked Kirsan what exactly the satellites wanted to know, and how much time we had to answer.
“Question. Who are you? Answer. Forty-seven seconds. Forty-six. Forty-five... “
What??? I became the very definition of the word “overwhelmed.” My heart grew tight in anxiety and fear. My arms and legs turned to cotton. The panic stopped me from concentrating or thinking rationally. I can’t say why my danger-warning skill was still silent, but now the game algorithms were spewing forth double-time:
Danger Sense skill increased to level sixty-five!
Danger Sense skill increased to level sixty-six!
Forty seconds. Thirty-nine. I had a momentary thought that I should spend all my free skill points right now because some of them were from more than a day earlier and would get burned up if my character died, which was now quite probable. But I didn’t do that just yet. My frigate was too important. I had to try and use the time I had left to save my starship.
“Leng Gnat, human!” I said my aloud, but the Symbiotes didn’t react in any way. Kirsan was still counting down the remaining seconds before the ship would be destroyed.
“They don’t understand Geckho!” the wise Vaa kindly hinted, though I had already figured out myself that the Precursors must have vanished long before the first Geckho or any other modern race made it into space.
I needed to answer the Symbiotes in the Relict language. But how? The frigate’s computer system didn’t support it. I could only enter commands vocally or mentally in Geckho and Miyelonian. Well and in theory I could also use Meleyephatian, though I hadn’t ever tried. But Relict? I hadn’t even ever spoken it before. My only experience with it was in written form. I didn’t even know the proper way to pronounce all the symbols.
“Leng Gnat, human!” I turned away from the instrument panel and tried to use my Listener Energy Armor to send the message.
Kirsan’s relentless countdown took a pause. Did it really work? As it turned out, no. After a few moments of silence, the repair bot answered dispassionately:
“Relict weapon. Relict armor. Relict drone. Relict class. Relict alliance. Information false. Lie. Twenty-three. Twenty-two. Twenty-one...”
Danger Sense skill increased to level sixty-seven!
So they think I’m a Relict! As a matter of fact, what else would the Symbiotes think after seeing so many obvious references to their ancient enemy on my character?! I realized it was absolutely pointless to argue.
“Relict Gnat, level-87 Listener!” I instantly corrected my message and, while the plasma clouds figured out how to respond, I hurried to add: “Specialist in the second rung of the Relict Pyramid. I have earned the gratitude of the hierarchs for the large amount of data I transmitted to the Pyramid. As a sign of thanks, I was issued an additional drone. I have also been given permission to use level-two modifications in my Energy Armor!”
Authority increased to 65!
Fame increased to 76.
This time, the silence lasted a lot longer. Around a minute at least. Finally, Kirsan relayed the response:
“Important Relict. We observe long time. Were not sure. Now sure. No reason to kill. Will respawn. Negotiations better. Information. Why here? Why is your body not Relict? Why bad, primitive starship?”
After the end of the long message, I spent a few seconds waiting in great trepidation, but the countdown did not resume. My feeling of worry also completely evaporated. The Symbiotes had changed their mind about killing me – “no reason, will respawn.” Instead the Precursors, or perhaps automated systems of theirs, decided to take advantage of the very rare chance for a chat with an ancient enemy so they could perhaps learn something new.
I had known the Symbiotes were interested in me for a while – maybe starting from the exact moment they first saw me wearing the ancient Listener Energy Armor. But they “were not sure,” as the Symbiotes themselves told me. Then I got the Annihilator, changed class to “Listener,” got the Small Relict Guard Drone and took over the Relict Faction. After all those changes, the “automated Precursor systems,” as my Small Guard Drone called the plasma clouds, had made up their minds, which is why they decided to stop me for an interview.
“I answer one question, you answer one question,” I suggested because I had a whole wagonload of questions for these satellites, plus a little cart’s worth to boot.
“Agreement. First Relict answer. Why here?”
The message came directly to me, displayed on the inner surface of my Listener Energy Armor helmet rather than the Meleyephatian frigate’s communications systems. The Symbiotes must have figured this was a faster and more convenient way to communicate. And I understood right away that any attempt to answer something like “just passing through, didn’t mean to ruffle any feathers” was not gonna fly. The Symbiotes wouldn’t believe I came upon this strange location at random. I had to improvise:
“Communication with the Pyramid is encumbered. Main communication channels have been blocked due to military activity. I have been using emergency channels. The Hierarchs used them to send me coordinates for where to go to get my reward. But I couldn’t make it...”
It was of course nonsense, but nothing more plausible was coming to mind. And technically it wasn’t such a massive lie. I really had worked out the coordinates of the Small Relict Guard Drone and was planning to fly off to get it soon. And funnily enough, my answer was accepted!
“You’ve come to the right place. The Relict Hierarch’s ship is here. It’s been here a long time. The siege has been underway for fifteen thousand tongs. There’s no way to pierce through the energy barrier. You have come to its call. Exactly right.”
What??? Good thing I was sitting, otherwise this shocking news would have knocked me off my feet. There was a Relict ship around here?! Maybe it was the starship of unknown design twelve thousand miles away. Just think. A real spaceship from the epoch of ancient civilizations. The value of that thing would be even more off the charts than that of the half-demolished ancient Relict base! This could be worth millions and millions of monetary crystals!
No matter how my conversation with the Symbiotes ended, I need to immediately make sure this information got recorded somewhere.
“Ayukh, take down the coordinates of this location,” I ordered the gray-haired Navigator. “And don’t only save it in the frigate’s memory, take them down in your communicator in case the ship gets destroyed. It’s an intriguing location, and I suspect we’ll be back here. And very soon at that!”
The Navigator gave a satisfied rumble and hurried to carry out his captain’s order. I then got back to the task at hand. So, now it was my turn to ask the Symbiotes a question. What did I want to know most of all? Where to find the remaining Precursors, of course. Not merely tech that survived down to our times, even if it was very refined and deadly. I was after living members of the ancient race. So that was the very question I asked.
“Strange question. Precursors everywhere. Colonies throughout the cosmos. You yourself are of Precursor blood. Many tongs have passed. Knowledge is forgotten. But the Precursors yet live.”
The answer again struck me like a dusty bag to the head. I had Precursor blood?! How could that be? Or did he mean not me specifically, but people as a whole? Human colonies really were strewn throughout the Universe in a strange manner. Did that maybe mean we were descendants of the mysterious ancient Precursor race? While I batted my eyes, trying my damnedest to digest the information, another question followed:
“How so? You are Relict. But of Precursor race.”
The answer to that question was not too complex. I simply gave a brief retelling of my personal history, which the satellites found to be wholly sufficient. But I had to give serious thought to my next question. What one question could I ask to find out something that would strengthen not only Gnat, but my world as a whole? Should I ask about the coordinates of ancient Precursor bases where I could come find weapons or ancient technologies? That was exactly what I asked in the end. But that question was clearly not well thought-out:
“There is no data about remaining military or scientific centers of the Precursors from the times of the Great War. Everything destroyed. All dead. Destroyed by Relicts. Destroyed by Mechanoids.”
How frustrating! I guess I just wasted a question. Damn! But I tried to compensate for that with my next answer – about the “primitive” starship I came here in. I said the frigate was constructed by one of the younger races that settled the Universe after the Great War, so it wasn’t all that high-tech. But I had supposedly been promised an ancient starship, the very same one the Relict Hierarch was on. Could I take it for myself?
“Last order received via automatic military command interceptor branch 178: eliminate Relict hierarch. And we will pursue that order as long as is it takes.”
“And?” I didn’t see an answer to my question, so I decided to ask again. “Can I take the ship? It has been fifteen thousand tongs since you were given that order. The hierarch died eons ago!”
“We cannot know that for certain. He may have been put into stasis, then time would have no sway over him. So the ship must be destroyed. Session terminated.”
Astrolinguistics skill increased to level ninety-two!
Session terminated? Come on, what complete nonsense! If the satellites hadn’t devised a way to break through the Relict starship’s energy barrier in fifteen thousand tongs, they would just spend the next few million years in fruitless attempts to get through its impenetrable shield! But what if I could find proof that the Relict Hierarch died? In that case, could I take the ancient starship?
But I didn’t have time to ask. My frigate suddenly came back to life. The control panel activated, the thrusters hummed to life, both main and maneuver. Every one of the starship’s systems returned to normal one after the next. The gravity compensators started humming in dismay, mitigating the excessive forces. The ship completed a maneuver and quickly started gaining momentum.
“I’m not doing anything! The ship is flying itself!” San-Doon Taki-Bu the copilot showed me his hands to prove he was not touching any of the control levers.
And meanwhile the world around us started to congeal. A flurry of energy showed that a hyperspace tunnel had been formed and our frigate was being sent somewhere. Then literally one second before the jump, a few lines of text ran past on the inner surface of my helmet:
Valuable information source detected. Level of trust: high. Interface session confirmed. Recording transmitted data. Transmission complete. Listener, this data is of enormous value to the Hierarchs, and must be relayed to the Pyramid!
I didn’t even realize right away that the new portion of messages didn’t come from the Symbiotes. By the looks of things, it was the exact opposite and from their enemies. The Listener Energy Armor made contact with a “trusted” source, which retransmitted its data to the Pyramid. Clearly the crew of the besieged ship or some smart computer system on board the ancient spaceship had detected an opportunity to send news to “their team” on my departing frigate.
“Captain, we have returned to our previous route and are flying to Kasti-Utsh III,” the Navigator commented with slight surprise. “Fortunately, the satellites lost interest and sent us out of their spatial ‘pocket.’“
“Spatial pocket?” I asked, latching on to the unfamiliar term.
“Yes captain. This area is inaccessible to starships in real space and even in the virtual world of the game that bends reality. It is simply not possible to reach. It’s as if this location does not exist in customary coordinate systems.”
“But then how...” I bit my tongue just in the nick of time, stopping myself from spilling the beans about the mysterious ancient starship and especially the mysterious Relict Hierarch on board. “So that’s it? There’s no way back?”
“We can get there, but it won’t be easy,” Ayukh reassured me and gave a satisfied rumble. “We’ll have to calculate everything very carefully – first we need a tunnel vector, then where to cut the hyperjump. The only way into this ‘pocket’ is through hyperspace. But don’t you worry captain. I’ve got all the information saved, so I can get us back!”
