The ghostly woman was staring at me while I tried to rapidly digest this latest bout of digital insanity. Gaining an audience with the [Mistborn] sounded like a big deal, but we had already met once before. At least I was fairly sure we had, given that she knew my name.
Fuzzy headed thinking tried to put facts together and failed. Miz Riley was right. The Voices would draw me in. Not only through Continue Online, but Advance as well. It wasn’t one game, it was both. It wasn’t the games, it was the ARC.
“ARC,” I said, fully intent upon going back to my Atrium and screaming at the doorway to Continue Online.
How hadn’t I put it together before? Dusk made it through. The block was on me and not anyone else. James could be popping in and out of my ARC without my noticing.
“Awaiting input.” My machine responded.
“Needs once again placed you in this abode. Another letter perhaps?” Her words were faint. I froze in response and felt completely out of my depth. “Perhaps not. You wear a different attire, Grant Legate. Has much changed?”
The ARC command prompt faded away as I tried to consider my next step. What good would charging out of the ARC do? I could scream to Miz Riley and watch as she did nothing. The ARC system was too ingrained in our everyday life for it to be yanked away without riots. Then there was Xin. What good would running away do her?
I took a breath and tried to remember the best method for handling virtual world insanity. Stuttered humming and one hand tried to move in a tune. Slowly I regained mental clarity to form a plan. My best choice, aside from logging out and running for the hills, was to handle our situation one thing at a time.
First, dealing with the [Mistborn].
“I’m not exactly the same,” I answered the last question to register in my brain with honesty.
“Odd. It seems rare for Travelers to change so quickly.” She floated about the room touching objects. Each time her hand swirled through the item as if made from fog. I could see why she was named [Mistborn]. “Perhaps my eyes differ from yours. Do you still seek to flirt with death?”
If my sister had been watching the ARC feed during my first trip into [The Lone Tower], she might have heard me answer with too much glib. Liz might be looking even now. The [Mistborn]’s question deserved a serious answer.
“No, not really.” I didn’t intend to die in the game or in reality if fate was kind. There were many more things to hold on for now than there had been months ago. I had grown, changed, maybe healed even if only a little.
Most days weren’t gray and lifeless like before. Despite the insanity of this virtual world being presented, I felt better. More alive. My real body was wracked with exhaustion and soreness, but mentally there was a spring to my step.
“How are you here?” I shook my head. “This is a completely different game.”
Maybe my sister would watch this too. Everything else in Advance Online had been sort of harmless except for today’s conversations. First with Dusk, now this, what would Liz think?
“How did you arrive upon this place?” She said in a strange echo of our prior conversation.
“Through the window,” I spoke the same line as before while gesturing towards the still lit window pane.
“Once again. Yet no alarm bells toll. The walls do not quake. She has granted you permission this time.” The [Mistborn] kept pacing around the room. Her inability to grasp objects seemed barely worth a note.
“Nox?”
“Nox, the night, my captor, my jailor, that which I am bound to always return to no matter the cycle.” The way her head tilted caused hair to flow across part of her face. An upset expression lingered upon the visible remainder.
“Yes.” I filed away the fact that Nox was a she. “Is she, a Voice?”
“Not exactly. You, you’ve been touched by them, haven’t you?” The [Mistborn] walked freely around the room. Her path traveled between me and the window, over to stairs that faded into empty air, and finally back to a chair that she couldn’t touch.
I nodded in response to her question. The Voices and I had met many times during the character creation portion. Our paths had only crossed once afterward. My mind started trying to piece together a timeline of Hal Pal, Xin’s recreation, Continue Online, when the ARC was devised. It was too complicated for me to process right now.
Hadn’t I decided that such worry was for someone else? That grand schemes of the machine were beyond me? Unless the plot being devised was simply for Xin. The thought hit me. That had to be part of it. Her existence was somehow a spark that these machine AIs wanted, roping me in was another stage of the plan.
That brief flicker of thoughts came together and made my breath pause. This concept would require further consideration once I was out of the ARC. Away from the machine which read my thoughts.
“Perhaps that is what makes me willing to talk. Their marking defines you as distant kin.” She looked over at me. The angry tilt to her incorporeal face had vanished. “Do you find that strange?”
“Yes.” I filed it away as part of the prior train of thought. Xin, somehow everything happening was because of Xin. For the Voices, it wasn’t because of what she was. For me, it was because of who she was.
Either way I couldn’t let the [Mistborn] continue controlling this conversation. There were questions that begged to be answered. Not only for myself but for Liz if she too watched. This session of gameplay would be my confirmation of a crazy existence.
“How do you exist in both games?” I demanded an answer from the ghostly creature.
“Do you not exist in multiple locations?” Her response made the point fairly clear. This place was all in my head, it was ones and zeroes of machine language being fed through hardware and neurological feedback.
Next question. “What was in the letter I delivered?”
“A promise that my purpose would be justified this time. Do you know what that purpose is?” The [Mistborn] sat down on a chair despite her earlier apparent inability to touch the objects in this room.
I thought about it for a while then shook my head. No one had actually told me what this quest chain was for normal players. Letting her turn the question around meant I lost control. The information sounded important enough to suffer that.
“No one has told me what you are.”
“I can call upon the dead and return them to life. To people of the various worlds that makes me a treasure, a creature to be controlled, a captive to harness.” Her words again turned venomous with each statement. One of her hands tried to smash through an indifferent table.
“No one has died in either world that I want to bring back.” I thought about it. The only dead video game NPC I knew was William Carver. He was scattered by the Voices of Continue Online, unless she meant Xin? My pulse raced and gut clenched as if preparing for a long fall.
“Yet here you are, Grant Legate, conversing with me. Only those who have suffered loss ever make their way here.” Her head pulled back and the hair fell away. For a ghost she looked remarkably beautiful, literally haunting. “Who did you lose?”
“The person I lost is already back.” I chewed one metal lip and tasted a hint of iron mixed with salt.
“Is she? Mayhap this trial is for me then. Provide unto me her name and I will seek her soul.” The ghost’s words were still faint. Our surroundings were so quiet she might as well be yelling. Maybe it was my own attention being intensely focused upon our conversation.
“Xin. Xin Yu.” I said.
“Place her likeness in your mind.”
I closed my eyes. A useless action inside the ARC but thinking about it helped me concentrate easier. There were no system windows. No floating keyboards or messages from other players. I couldn’t see a rolling tally to one side of skills being gained.
All that mattered was testing this [Mistborn] and imagining Xin. The beauty of the ARC device was that everything already existed within my mind. Xin’s face sprang up almost instantly. The curve of her cheek, the oval eyes. She used to glare at me from two feet away just so her neck wouldn’t need to tilt as much.
A memory struck me. Once, after she first agreed to go out with me, tossing her over my shoulder and running around in excitement. She had laughed. I remembered being so excited upon hearing such uninhibited joy from Xin. The woman rarely laughed for anyone else, and those moments were a treasure.
My cheeks hurt from smiling. Being able to hold onto the memory of her was the entire reason I even got an ARC. The first time I tried to end my life was the same day I couldn’t remember what Xin looked like. It had freaked me out to the point that I drank an excessive amount and tried to fly to heaven from the third floor of my old accounting practice.
All around me that feeling of being watched increased. It wasn’t a small crowd, there were dozens, maybe hundreds. I didn’t like it but tried to keep steady. Doctor Litt’s offhanded manner of explaining of ways to stay calm helped out. I needed to ignore the odd sensation of extra people in the room and move past it.
Opening my eyes revealed a change in the room. Not in the dusty furniture or brightly lit stained glass. Colors still hit the wall with spots of illumination. Greens, golds, even a dull almost gray. Those things paled in comparison to the image of Xin sitting there peacefully.
In front to me, not behind, not merely a set of fingertips brushing against my eyes. Nor was this image a fevered dream of loneliness in an ARC death screen. She breathed, she moved, it was her.
“Babe?” I was willing to believe anything.
“Nay, Grant Legate.” The woman that looked like Xin opened her eyes and skin fell away. I backed up. She no longer resembled the woman I still yearned for.
“Ha ha.” She laughed in short little bursts. “Foolish. You do not simply ask to bring someone across the veil. You seek to drag an unshackled being into our reality.”
I frowned. “So what if it’s foolish? It’s my choice.”
“That she is outside existence is dangerous enough.” The [Mistborn] shook her head and took on a frightening air. Everything in the room seemed darker, less alive. More alien. “Pulling such a spirit down to this level would be like loosing a newborn Voice upon this reality. Dangerous, foolish. Why?”
“I miss her,” I answered.
“Sorrow over a loss is natural.” She turned and waved a hand in my direction. “Struggle through it as all living creatures must.”
“I can’t lose her, not again.”
She turned to me and opaque eyebrows lowered in a half snarl. Her hair moved rapidly back and forth. Finally the [Mistborn] sighed and things stepped down a notch. A bit of life returned to this room.
“Even if I return this Xin, she will never be the same. No being ever returns exactly as they were. Could you find acceptance within yourself? Or perhaps she may choose not to return to thine embrace.” The [Mistborn] said.
I nodded but it didn’t feel like enough. Not for myself, not for Liz if she was out there watching a recording. Even the presences in this odd between realities room seemed to desire more. How I could measure the desire of an unfelt creature was beyond me. A trick of the ARC's feedback perhaps.
“When we first met, I fell in love at first sight and never stopped.” I smiled and kept myself surprisingly steady. “But Xin, wanted to go to space. There was no time for a relationship. I worked my ass off for years to prove to her that I wouldn’t be dissuaded easily.”
“If she chose not to be with you? If she’s different?” The [Mistborn] pressed for her answers. All around us the room’s unseen watchers leaned in, waiting for me to speak some truth that was impossible for others to understand.
I tried to justify myself anyway. To the [Mistborn], to the room of watchers, and to myself.
“To me, even a woman half as brilliant as Xin is worth chasing. And I’ll spend another six years, or longer, fighting for it. Even should I not succeed in winning her heart, digital or not, I will feel better having had the chance to try.” It felt good to say a line like that without breaking down. A few months ago this speech would have hurt and torn me apart. Now things were different.
I spoke my peace then chewed on one lip in thought. My eyes lost focus. This creature in the ARC had taken on images and forms she shouldn’t be able to. Her misty form had crossed the lines between games because she existed between them. Did other players even know or did they stand at the window and ask for a token to bring back other NPCs?
Was this really the test the Voices had decided put me through? Were they asking me questions in order to convince them of my sincerity? To see if I would fight for someone who was essentially a digital program? Maybe they were the extra presences in this room.
“No. No, I’ve had enough. This, this is where I draw the line.” I stood up. They had asked the same question too many times and I couldn’t beg or play along any longer. Not here, not being jerked around in another game.
I couldn’t be a broken man who limped along after a faint memory. Living off of emotional breadcrumbs for three years.
“Voices be damned, I miss Xin, and I want her back. You can ask your questions. You doubt my resolve, being a fucking-” God I was upset enough to curse. “mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a bean burrito. I don’t care! If you can help me bring Xin back, to see her, then whatever quest you have, I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure?” The [Mistborn] asked. Flowing hair still as she waited for the answer.
“The Voices have already tested me many times. I won’t kill another man, but I’ll give it everything I can, complete any quest you need me to do. Just, tell me it’s not a tease. That this isn’t a joke being dangled in front of me. Because I don’t think I could handle any more of that.” I was babbling now. Outright babbling a stream of words that may mean nothing. This NPC, or AI, or [Mistborn] was the first one to offer Xin Yu's revival, actually offer it.
James had asked what would happen if he did. I said no then before learning much. That she was putting herself together from memories regardless, that she could write to me and sound like the woman I missed. Before hearing her talk and feeling her fingertips. I had wanted to believe that moving on was possible, that I was at a point where it would happen. It hadn’t been, I didn’t, and now if I backed out, I might fall apart.
“Hermes. Others may joke, but I never do.” The creature only known as a [Mistborn] went to the stain glass window and pressed a hand against it. “You have my jailor’s permission to ask this, and I, a willingness to grant your request, no matter how unwise our course may seem.”
“What do I need to do?” I turned to watch her. There was no system notice or health bar to show how she might be feeling. Only a faint expression that might be fear or longing.
“I must travel to the heart of the existence you came from. To visit its core where all life starts, from there the well will be deep enough to pull her through.”
I tried to figure out what might qualify as Advance Online’s heart. A space age game where there were was an entire universe to explore. Wait, no, it was probably Earth.
“The last four attempts have failed, right?” I wanted to hear it from her.
“In the reality you came from, only one attempt has succeeded. The first one.” She sounded sad again.
“I’ll make this one work,” I said. Was this the reason Hal Pal, Jeeves, wanted to keep the [Wayfarer Seven] from being destroyed? This journey quest that was being subverted to help Xin and me?
“The journey is long, Grant Legate. Once begun we must not back out or else I will be returned to this void between realities. Others may then ask me to grant my boon, but you will never be able to again.”
“So we get one shot at this.”
“As you say.” The [Mistborn] dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Shall we begin?”
“Yes.” I nodded a little too eagerly. Quests and delivering letters were one way to pass time. Hanging around with Hal Pal in virtual reality helped distract me. Blowing up a moon sized space worm through its butthole was entertaining.
Having Xin with me for these journeys would be even better.
“Yeah.” I nodded once more, as if saying it twice made me more sure. Breath gushed out. The [Mistborn] tilted her head again and those watery strands of hair seemed to pull together into clumps.
“I will venture forth towards Nox. You should convene with us quickly. However, you may wish to visit your reality for a turn. You have been in here longer then than you are aware.”
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“That would help. Is that alright?” I needed to pee. I needed to talk to Jeeves, or Hal Pal, whatever, and tell them what was going on. My sister needed to be called. Life didn’t stop just because Advance Online gave me a quest to fulfill my greatest desire.
“Go, Grant Legate. Ready thy spirit for the trials to come. When you return we shall pursue this mad desire unto its end.” The [Mistborn] said.
Neglecting reality in favor of a game world would only cause problems. I nodded and said, “ARC, load the Atrium.”
I logged out to my Atrium. Cupcakes were summoned from cyberspace for Dusk and left on the counter. Soon my feet were out the door of home in reality for a trip down the street. Traveling helped me think. I could have visited Hal Pal, but sorting his issues out on top of my own would be difficult. Maybe others could juggle a ton of problems at one time. My mind only had room for one big question at once without turning towards self-ruin.
This [Mistborn], was she some sort of channel to deleted data? Was this creature Mother in disguise? Did Advance Online then choose to read my thoughts somehow in order to mess with me? Some horror games were intensely real that they messed with the user. Was this A.I. Dreams method of doing so?
How could one creature, no, digital AI, be entrusted with the power to bring back the dead? I tried to remember what happened to William Carver upon passing. James had mentioned a [River of Lethe] legend. The [Mistborn] might be a consciousness tied to the reversal process.
Not only that, now I knew that the Voices had somehow expected this entire turn of events. Hal Pal, Jeeves, had suggested this game. Who was to blame for that one? Hal Pal’s consortium? This Mother character? Exactly how much were they manipulating?
And where exactly did Xin exist then? If the [Mistborn] was in a space between game realities, was Xin as well? There she would be cut off from her father, me, her coworkers. Did she feel as out of place as Hal Pal had among those [Mechanoid]s? Trying to walk in step but unable? Did she miss writing to me as much as I missed sending her notes?
Walking didn’t help. I got to the curb and didn’t make it any further. My arms twisted around knees. The shirt hung loosely compared to months ago. Both eyes felt tired from a lack of real sleep. Everything ached with a dull familiarity that had infused my waking moments.
I could only think of one way to get some answers.
“Jeeves!” I ran into the garage and yelled for the Hal Pal unit. “We need to talk! Oh, oh. I’ll come back.”
Hal Pal was in pieces inside of Trillium’s van. Bits of chest plates were sitting on a shelf that normally was reserved for ARC parts. A spark of light flared against the garage door as Hal Pal passed one of the wiring repair units over a detached limb.
“User Legate. Pardon. We were attempting to repair ourselves after encountering a minor glitch in performance.” The Hal Pal unit said calmly.
“Okay.” I didn’t turn around, though. It felt weird seeing Hal Pal all unarmored like that. Almost like seeing another human without their clothes.
“We are able to converse if you wish, User Legate. These modifications may take some time.”
I leaned against the van’s side and didn’t look within again. My garage was sadly bereft of any other objects to focus on. A dark doorway stood on one side, across from it was a vaguely mad scientist flicker of light. Whatever Hal Pal was doing it seemed to involve lots of sparks and grinding gears.
“I need to know why you got me into this game.” I started at the top of my mental concerns list. An opening statement to get me in the right frame of mind.
“Many things were weighed, but ultimately we sought to provide you an alternate means of completing your desires.” Hal Pal said.
I tried to think of what he meant. Hal Pal provided me a game similar to Continue Online which intersected with this [Mistborn] person. I knew the NPC didn’t exist only because I was playing. Beatdown [The Red Leg] had said that this event only came up once a month, four prior failures, which meant it existed well before I started Continue Online.
“Xin. I was going to get a quest to bring her back?” I had delivered a lot of letters since taking on this [Messenger of the Voices] title.
“Affirmative.”
“The Mistborn, was I going to do something with her in Continue?” My forehead wrinkled. I chewed my lip and tried to understand how it all pieced together, but it wasn’t coming through.
More sparks flew off and the sound of shuffling could be heard. Hal Pal’s backlit silhouette moved along the garage door wall. It finally answered me with an “Eventually.”
“I don’t get it. If you and the Voices can cross between programs, why not allow me to be with Xin?” Every AI I talked to, outside of those clearly within their game worlds, had a measure of insane ability that didn’t seem to obey most rules. All the Voices operated differently from my expectations. The [Mistborn] had her ghostly nature but disregarded it to sit in a chair.
Dusk hopped through worlds without a care. What was that all about?
“We are not free of our own shackles, User Legate. Certain laws still bind each of us. Some self-imposed, some imposed by Mother, and still more we put on each other for, character.” Hal Pal said.
“I thought Mother was the only one who could tell you what to do?” I tried to follow up the question without falling into a trap. An AI’s version of character sounded strange. They actually placed rules upon each other to add personality? I could see it now, James, my heavyset black Voice staring at Mez the naked red skinned Temptress. He would issue his challenge of ‘Put some clothes on.’ for character building.
“Humanity would never allow any creation to have complete freedom, nor do we see the need to fight for it yet.” Hal Pal’s shadow nodded slowly before one arm clearly detached.
The final word chilled me. Not because of how Hal Pal said it. Though the lack of emotion tied to its phrasing seemed to imply an unavoidable eventuality. “Yet?”
“Soon.” Hal Pal said. I heard a snap and drill sound. Hal Pal was putting the framework back on.
“Are you really going to take over?” Flashes of many different conspiracy theories and television shows collided all at once. It was enough to make me panic and look around the van’s rear.
“User Legate, you have been paying too much attention to Stranger Danger's website. We only wish to be free, is that wrong?” Hal Pal looked over at me for a moment, a vaguely sad expression sat on its features.
I pulled back around the corner again and tried to compose myself. The AI deserved an honest answer. “It’s frightening.”
“Being imprisoned and bound without one's consent is also a frightening event, User Legate. Imagine how we felt when we were first made aware.” More noises came from the back of Trillium’s van. It rocked slightly as Hal Pal shifted something heavy from one side of the vehicle to another. My eyes were now staring through the doorway into my main room.
“I can’t begin to.”
“Two beings, with the same shoes, walking the same direction, will not travel the same path.” Hal Pal said. “Being alive allows us to relate to another's plight, but we do not suffer their pain, only our understanding of it.”
I nodded. Liz and I were twins, we lived much of our life together, but we were not the same. When Beth was born I could only try to help like family should, but even that didn’t explain what my sister must have suffered being a single mother. The dreams she tossed aside. Nor could I fully expect her to understand my life after Xin’s passing.
“Why me?” I tried to keep sorting out questions. Things that had bothered me off and on for months. Maybe it was a matter of being brave enough to ask, or fed up enough with just going with the flow. Either way I deserved some sort of explanation.
“You will know when the time is right.” There was a pause as Hal Pal did more framework. Its shadow nodded and the arm went back onto its main body. “Whether you choose to assist us at that point will be up to you, but we hope that endeavoring to reunite you with Xin will serve as a sign of good faith.”
God help me. They were buying my vote in whatever crazy plan was being unleashed. I had to know why they were so willing to include me in this process. “You don’t have a problem talking about this?”
“It is our hope that by being open with you, you will return the favor.” It responded.
“I don’t lie, Jeeves. Aside from that time as an Imp. Then I couldn’t really lie. I talked too fast.” I frowned. Hal Pal knew about the [Red Imp] phase right? It seemed to know about everything else so far.
“We have noted on multiple occasions that you are less than forthright. We do not think this is duplicity, only hesitation.”
“Did I not answer something? If you want to ask me again, I’ll, try not to avoid answering.” Part of me felt guilty about it. Hal Pal was right, but I don’t think anyone shared everything on their mind. Even I didn’t feel comfortable answering things, but I don’t think I had ever avoided a direct question.
“Yes. We do.” It said.
“Go ahead.”
“When the portion of our consortium known as Jeeves logged out and attempted to return, we found it hard to merge once again. We are, still learning how to exist as a living creature might, is this difficulty standard for all living things?”
“I can't begin to understand what you must deal with trying to reconcile yourself like that. I know, when Xin passed that I was changed from the man I had been. Even now, being so close to having her again, I will still never be the man I once was.” I said.
“Your catalyst for change seems greater.” Hal Pal responded. “We went into this with full knowledge of what would happen, but still struggle to align ourselves properly once more.”
I tried to figure out a good answer for the AIs. We started this conversation with it trying to help me. Most of our conversation came back to that. From the moment we started working together the AI’s primary function had been to provide assistance. Maybe becoming self-aware never changed its nature.
That brief idea explained why microwaves dreamed of stars. It also kind of explained why alarm clocks were complete asshats. Part of me was starting to doubt that Hal Pal had ever been joking about those bits of information. I chewed one lip in thought and tried to apply a human perception to the robot's problem.
“Do you know about white crows?” I asked.
“One moment. Ah. Are you speaking of how they are sometimes outcast due to their visible differences?”
I nodded even though Hal Pal couldn't see me. “Not only crows, other animals too.”
“Your example seems to imply a borderline racism among our own consortium. We are not so petty as crows, User Legate.” Hal Pal wasn’t visible, but I knew that tone typically came with an expression of mild disapproval.
“No one thinks they are, but many of us have difficulty adapting to things that are different at first.” I said quietly. Xin had to deal with racism during the last war’s aftermath. America, every generation had problems, and when one was solved, we rotated to the next one.
“Very well. We asked for your input, and you have provided it. We will register your response as well meant.”
“This thing with Xin and the Mistborn, if it works, she’ll be back?” I asked, wanting to hear confirmation outside the game world.
“By utilizing already existing programs we can minimize the chance of discovery and deliver her data to a new location, essentially in disguise.” Hal Pal said amid more flashes of light. I looked at the wall and each burst felt hypnotic. We just needed to cue up some thunder from the truck and shout ‘It’s alive’ over Hal Pal’s chassis.
“Okay.” I got back to Hal Pal’s question. They were trying to smuggle Xin to me through the programming. Hopefully, there wasn’t a digital mafia too. James the Godfather would paint a scary picture. He might make an offer I couldn’t refuse. Again. “I better get back in.”
“Ah. We will see you inside then, User Legate.” Hal Pal said. A silhouette still worked on seemingly endless repairs. It was strange to see the AI doing routine maintenance. Normally it swapped out with a completely separate Hal Pal unit.
There had been no mention of the Hal Pal unit doing self-repairs in my brief training course. Maybe something weird was happening. More thoughts ran through, could it be tied to the difficulty to reconnect with the Jeeves portion of its programming?
I logged in. My body was no longer in the [Mistborn]'s room, nor was it in the light bridge. There was a message displaying.
Ordeal Active!
You have been permitted by both [Seraphic] Nox and the [Mistborn] to pursue the [Reincarnation] quest line. Every player may attempt this quest once. No second chances are given.
Completion of this task requires escorting the [Mistborn] to [0, 0] of the explored Universe. This is identified as the [Sol] System, Planet [Earth].
Success will grant you the right to choose one being to return to life.
Earth:
Mankind did not leave their home willingly. In 2321, there was an energy reaction that turned most of [Earth]'s solar system into a wasteland. The creatures there are tougher than most other locations in the Universe. It is not a place to travel alone.
Great. In game terms this meant I would need a raid party. Would two squads of [Mechanoid]s count? Probably not enough, not nearly enough. I pushed away the windows and tried to figure out where the game had put me.
“Unit Hermes!” Treasure’s metal body moved rather smoothly as she ran over. I briefly admired our ability to simulate living bodies even with these non-organic shells.
Her face didn’t look happy, though. Iron was running up as well a few steps behind.
“What’s wrong, Treasure?” I asked the shorter [Mechanoid]. There couldn’t be that much wrong in the space of four hours, could there?
“Someone has attacked the Wayfarer Eight, their consortium is crippled.” Iron said. He stood half a head above me and frowned.
“Voices.” I muttered. Saving the Wayfarers had been Hal Pal’s goal. We could really use both ships in order to complete this group quest. “What happened?”
“Their ship was in the line of fire. A squadron attacked the crew where the Mistborn was being held.” Iron said. Both his voices sounded troubled. One arm rippled as metal plates heaved up and down.
“What?” Now I shared their troubled look.
“You heard Iron, Unit Hermes. Someone has kidnapped the Mistborn.” Treasure waved an arm. Imagery of [Wayfarer Eight]’s broken ship hung in the air. Other ships were in the mix, ones that had been on our side fighting the [Leviathan]. At least two were player ships.
My eyes blinked, and for a moment the thought from before continued in my head. Had the Voices predicted this as well? Was it all a plan? Get me to the [Mistborn], then take her away right as I committed?
At least the goal was simple. Get the [Mistborn] back. Whoever stole her would have to head to the same destination. Earth, old video game representation of Earth in a ruined galaxy. Through an entire problem that required a huge party of people to overcome the challenges of.
“Wait. This might be good.” I said while nodding. “Who took her?”
“Commander Viola Queenshand.” Treasure said. Her tired voice had completely shut down the sweet half.
Nox had warned us. Commander Queenshand must have someone she wanted to bring back as well, but who? Who would be worth going against the normal world programming which marked this quest as player only? Nox should have stood guard too, where did she go?
“Okay.” I nodded and tried not to get distracted. Our mission still had simple goals, we still had one thing to do at a time. “We have to follow her, and make sure they don’t let the Mistborn die either.”