“That’s a pretty strange class,” the Colonel said as we stomped back into the streets of Threshold. He seemed to have a destination in mind, kept his head down, and plowed forward. I had to work to keep up.
“I think it’ll work well for me, assuming I can get hold of some skill seeds, whatever those are.”
“They drop off mobs inside the reality engine levels,” the Colonel told me. “They aren’t hard to come by. Most are junk but they drop frequently.”
I was enjoying the chance to spread my new legs and really take steps. I needed to send my mom a message letting her know that everything had happened just the way we'd hoped, that I was here now, about to start my brand new life.
I noted that the streets were crowded with people and they all seemed nervous and upset. Clusters stood in doorways or on corners, talking and gesturing together. Maybe that was just life here, but I had a feeling something was off.
We stepped inside a well-built building. The sign hanging above the door read "Mama Grace's." I was hit by a wave of delicious food smells, meat and spices, and who knew what else. The Colonel swept right through the main room and down a corridor clearly meant for the staff. He were taking me to a spacious back room. There were several tables set up here, and at one, the Colonel’s granddaughter-in-law Juana was waiting for us.
The table was laden with food. My stomach rumbled. "Help yourself," the Colonel said, gesturing at the food. I grabbed a plate and started to load it up. I didn't know what a lot of this food was, but it all smelled delicious.
Juana was drumming her fingers on the table as we sat. “Well? Are we going to get official help?”
The colonel shook his head. “Air Marshall Hatfield won’t allow any Joint Task Force personnel to go into this fragment level until we know what’s going on. She’s freaked out and I can’t blame her. Half the team who went in have re-emerged with no memory of what’s happened. They can’t get back in, either.”
“Then —”
“I’m hoping Colin can get in. There’s a chance that the fragment is only able to keep people from respawning, not going in the first time.”
“So you’re going to send him alone?” Juana turned to me, her eyes narrowing. “Look, give me half a day, I’ll put together a team —”
I held up a hand. “Hang on. I haven’t agreed to do anything yet. I’ve got a few questions.”
“Ask away,” the colonel said, sitting down. “I’m supposed to be recovering from my trip, so I’ve got a few hours before I report to the Air Marshall.”
I cast about, my mind full of confused thoughts. “First off, I'm really confused about the organizational structure here."
"That's because it's not organized," the Colonel said, sighing. "Most of this wasn't planned. It just happened during the Reality Engine exploit as we banded together to try to survive. This is the headquarters of Misfits Guild, which despite the name, is now humanity’s first galactically incorporated company. A bunch of our members are out-system at this point, working to earn money on other exploits.”
Juana put in her bit. “The Galactics organize everything in corporate structures. There’s no nation of, say, Proxima Centauri. Instead, seven or eight megacorps run things there. They contract with smaller organizations. Most people belong to a guild, a clan, or a sect of allied families. That’s the basic unit of civilization out in the galaxy. Your guild gets your allegiance, and then guilds make deal with the megacorps. It’s taking some time to try to figure out how to get human social structures to match up.”
“The UN and NATO weren’t happy that Kronos had given the Ad Astra to Misfits. They tried to appropriate the ship. Kronos objected. Strongly,” the colonel told me. “Now he’ll only deal with members of Misfits or other organizations that have personal deals with him. I’ve been… requested… to liase between Kronos and the JTF, but Kronos has made it clear he’ll only talk to me as long as I’m part of Misfits, so the brass backed off on their attempts to force me back into line.”
“That seems… confusing.”
“You have no idea.”
“So what exactly are your goals versus their goals?" I asked.
The colonel nodded. “Good question. The Joint Task Force's goal is to secure this Reality Engine and establish a solid working relationship with Kronos in order to benefit the human race, admittedly, with a bias toward NATO member nations, since that's most of what makes up this task force.”
“Makes sense,” I allowed.
Juana took over again. "Misfits Guild, now that we've had a chance to look beyond our own personal survival, has bigger goals. We want to establish humanity's place in the galaxy. It means going out there and engaging with other Reality Engine exploits and encouraging the development of technology that does not rely on Reality Engines.”
“She’s right. Humanity's future place in the galaxy is going to be determined by what happens here in the next few years, whether we just become another set of corporate clients or if we are able to choose our own path."
I narrowed my eyes. “And you're just doing this out of the goodness of your heart?"
The colonel laughed. "I see what you're saying, kid. But if Misfits Guild establishes themselves, it's better for everyone. You don't have to trust that we have the best interest of all humanity at heart. We're willing to be up front with you about our goals and what we're trying to do here, and if you have concerns and questions, ask them. You haven't signed a contract with us."
“I thought participating in the tournament meant I had a contract with the Joint Task Force.”
The colonel shook his head. “You personally are underage. That's a loophole. They can’t force you into a contract until you hit 18. I pulled some strings to get you up here before anyone looked too closely at the fine print and tried to hold you back.”
I looked down at my legs. “I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong, but what is it you even want me to do?”
“The situation's worse than I thought," Colonel Twofeather told me. "I'm about to get summoned to a meeting with the Air Marshal. We've lost several levels."
"What do you mean 'lost'?" I asked.
"They're no longer accessible to us. The rogue fragment has taken them over. Most of them, we were able to evacuate before Kronos lost control, but there are people missing, my granddaughter among them. I'm hoping they've just been shifted to a level under the fragment's control. That they're alive, and stay that way. Kronos has been protecting us all from death, letting us respawn as necessary. That's not baked into the system. When we first came up here, death was very real. I hope the fragment hasn't decided to turn that back on.”
“Why are we dealing with these fragments at all? Why not just let Kronos destroy them?” It seemed like they’d been putting a lot of assets into something that they could have let the reality engine handle.
“Because on a very real level, they are Kronos. He’s not one mind, he’s the agglomeration of billions of ancient aliens. These fragments represent different parts of him. We want to put him back together, not make him weaker. And also, we’ve got a personal motive.” The Colonel leaned in. “We need to ally with one of these fragments and persuade it to move to the Ad Astra. If we’re going to visit other reality engines, we need our own artificial mind running our ship to protect us from their alien-dominated ones. Kronos says that this fragment is a good candidate, if we can impress it and convince it to work for us.”
Stolen story; please report.
“That’s a pretty big ask.” I frowned. “I’ll leave all the worries about whether we can trust it to you. My task is to get in there and find the missing personnel. Right?”
“Yes,” Juana said. She was looking tired and drawn.
“What kind of help can you give me?"
The Colonel shook his head. "Not much, I'm afraid. The Air Marshal doesn't want to commit any of our official Joint Task Force assets to this situation until things are stabilized, and I understand why. Kronos is updating us on an almost minute-by-minute basis as to which levels are under threat. We're evacuating them now. You'll notice the streets of Threshold are starting to get packed with people. We need to keep Joint Task Force personnel here on hand to help keep the situation stable and, if necessary, begin the evacuation back up to the hub."
"How long would that take?"
"Days, maybe weeks. I don't even know," the Colonel said. "The point is I can't give you official help. Most of Misfits Guild's combat-capable people are off-world or already assigned to a task. I want to send you in after my grandson. He's been gone too long. Best-case scenario, he’s just out of communication and doesn't know what's going on. If so, you bring him up to speed, and he'll know to abort the mission and get back here. Worst case, something's happened to him, and you'll be able to help him out." His eyes were worried, and they knew that wasn't the real worst case he was concerned about. "Meanwhile, I'll be out here sticking my finger in a dozen different dikes as they all start leaking."
Now I got it. It wasn't that he was hopeful I could actually pull off a rescue. He was just desperate to throw any kind of lifeline to his grandson. I understood that. Anyway, if things were about to fall apart around my ears, I didn't want to wait around in a shelter for that to happen. I'd rather be on my feet now that I have them.
"Sorry to drag you up here, kid," the colonel said. "Maybe I should have left you down there. But all the official folk back on Earth were debating exactly what to do with you. Since they couldn't make you sign a contract, what with you being underage, they were thinking of keeping you on ice for the next two years until we could get your signature on something legally binding. I figured you didn't want to wait around that long.”
I whistled. "Thanks. I owe you. Yeah, I'll go after them."
"Knew you would," the colonel said.
“So you want me to enter an instance knowing nothing about it, having never interacted with any of these reality engine levels before, locate your missing people, and then help them defeat this rogue Shard?"
"Basically," the colonel confirmed.
"And I'm level one. And on my own.” I grinned. “Can’t wait.”
I stepped through the portal and quickly took stock. I appeared to be standing in an American Southwestern landscape. It looked similar to settings I'd seen in old cowboy movies. The sky and rocks were in colors that felt too bright to be real. The sun baked down on me, similar to how it had been in Vegas, but at least now I didn't have to worry about skin cancer.
Colonel Twofeather and Juana had decked me out with supplies and invited me to join Misfits Guild, in the hopes it would give me bona fides if I encountered Williams or his sister. Made sense to me. I practiced a bit with the message system until I was comfortable with it.
The magic inventory was even better. Anything under three stone, I could pick up and store into thin air, then recall it with a wish. It had a robust sort and search feature, letting me browse by categories I could invent on the spot. I hated games that limited inventory space. Let me play the game, not waste time micromanaging my stuff. This was perfect.
I had let them give me an M4 and a magic reloading bracelet some crafter had made. With that, I could reload rounds without actually having to eject the spent magazines. Unfortunately, the M4 was classified as a weapon, not a tool, so my skills wouldn’t work on it.
They loaded me up with food, water, and useful tools, which I immediately stored in my Swiss Army Knife, which had upgraded when I choose my class to a [Multitool]. I had five choices there now: a shovel, a grappling hook and rope, a crowbar, a knife, and a pickaxe. I could only have one active at a time, which was a limitation I hadn’t considered before. Right now, I had the M4 slung over my shoulder.
First thing I did was try to send a message back to Colonel Twofeather. I got no reply, which was as expected.
Next, I took my bearings. This was like playing a brand new game and going in blind. I’d done that on occasion. I didn't see any sign of Williams, but there was a puff of smoke rising in the distance.
A few miles in, I came to the edge of an escarpment, staring down 150 feet or so. The land sloped away steeply on my left, and I ought to be able to get down into the flatlands. But I paused and looked about, taking a bite of my rations as I looked. In the distance, something glinted—a reflection off of glass or metal. I shaded my eyes and looked. There was a town down there, a cluster of little buildings.
I got my bearings and head down on down. A little ways out, I made out shapes moving. Shambling would be a better word.
I unslung the M4 and took up a firing stance as they came toward me. When they were close enough I could make out their features, I activated Power Boost.
[Equipped item is a weapon, not a tool,] the message complained. [Power Boost not valid. Cooldown activated].
“What the fuck? That’s not fair!” I fired anyway. My first burst of three shots went wild. I’d never shot a gun before. The noise and the way it jerked in my hand surprised me. The zombies advanced. I adjusted my aim. The next shots went into the dust.
“That’s ridiculous!” I raised my muzzle and fired blindly. This time my shots stitched across their torsos. Zombies collapsed into the dusty street. The sound rattled my teeth and hurt my ears, but I was grinning like a fool as I hosed them down. I had to reload eight times before the last zombie collapsed. I banished my gun back into my inventory and pulled up my class details. What was my weapon proficiency, anyway?
[Weapon proficiency: -50% accuracy with all ranged weapons. Melee bonus from strength is negated by class requirement: Tool User].
What the hell was that? I hadn’t had time to delve into all my class information; Colonel Twofeather had been in a hurry to me get in here. I suspected that if his superiors had found out I was here they’d have forbidden me to enter. Now I paused and looked over the fine print.
I’d read the part of Jack-of-all-Trades about how I’d have increased proficiency with tools and non-combat skills. Now the negative side appeared. [All combat skill proficiencies are capped at Journeyman level]. I already knew Journeyman was the third of five proficiency levels. I maximized the big list of proficiencies. A couple thousand entries zoomed past. Things like “Shovel” and “Hoe” were at Amateur, thanks to my Tool User buff, while “Rifle” was at “Novice*” — the asterisk apparently meaning “worse than novice, actually”.
Right. It didn’t negate how powerful this class would be. I’d done a half-dozen different pacifist challenges in games before, beating them without ever drawing a weapon. This would be no different. Time to see what kind of loot I’d gotten.
Two of the zombies offered up skill seeds. I used my Analyze on them. The first offered me the ability to detect hidden targets. That was good but boring. I checked the other. Improve dodge by 5%. Also boring.
I called up my own Power Combo. Holding the skill seeds in my hand, I combined the two. They shimmered before forming into one slightly larger seed. [Read the Dev Notes. This ability reveals hidden information about maps and objectives].
“Perfect. Just the thing.” I grinned and slotted it into my spellbook, swapping it out with Swipe. I hoped that leveling up would gain me more slots. That reminded me to check my XP. I was about halfway through level one. Fortunately, the enemies scaled to my level like the colonel had promised. I hadn't had much difficulty defeating these zombies.
Now I looked over and Analyzed the town. It was deserted other than the zombies corpses and a few flies. A bright orange blotch caught my eye down by the ruined church. Someone had sprayed orange paint, a big arrow pointing up the steps of the church.
I followed and quickly spotted a book lying open on the lectern. I read the note scribbled at the top of the open page, then flipped through the story.
I smiled to myself. Williams was leaving breadcrumbs. For himself, no doubt, but I could use that too. There was nothing to tell me how long ago he'd left this. I followed the directions in the book and headed for the train station, where I found the map on the outside wall.
The map showed roughly a circle. I was in the middle of a village marked "Coyote's Rest," which seemed ominous. There was a train track and a river that divided the circle into four roughly similar-sized quadrants. Up in the north quadrant was labeled "Indian Village." The wording and icons there were faded.
I activated Read the Dev Notes and an overlay appeared on the village: Objective claimed.
Excellent. Williams had already been there. Next, I looked at the eastern quadrant, which had a spiderweb icon and read Old Crone’s Lair. It also said Objective claimed.
My gaze was drawn to the bottom quadrant, where The Lost Spaniard’s Mine was written in bold. Read the Dev Notes revealed more text. [Objective - free prisoners. 0/1 chief, 18/12 villagers.]
That pulled me up short. I considered, then smiled and nodded to myself. So Williams and his team had gotten themselves captured and were at the mine. Now I knew where I should go.
I looked at the last quadrant. There was a hidden message there. I pulled it up and it flashed red. [Rescue stranded children. Time remaining - five hours, eight minutes.]
Stranded children? Could it mean the students Juana had mentioned going missing? Williams' sister and presumably some classmates. I hesitated. I didn't like that countdown. It implied to me something would happen at the end of that time. Maybe they'd be captured and taken to the same mine as the others. Or maybe it would be worse. I couldn’t just hope for the best, I needed to take action.
If I were able to free Williams and his presumably five other allies, they could help me, but I didn't know if I'd have time.
Screw it. You always do the timed quest first. I grabbed a big marker out of my inventory and circled the mine icon in the bottom so that if anyone else came through here, they'd know my eventual destination. Then I took a bearing and set off across the desert.