Running on empty
Alice had her attention turned towards their back trail, senses wide open, warding with all her might, doing her best to confuse and confound the bloodhounds on their tail with every trick she could think of. She cast thoughts of nothingness, that the seekers might look everywhere but where it was important. She cast false images of ore freighters and star yachts to explain away the chemical and electronic traces they could not help but leave in their wake. Hell, she even snagged a stray asteroid or two, to send them tumbling back the way they had come in the hopes that luck might, just once, be on their side. The ship, long familiar with her mental processes, responded as best it could.
It took all her intention and all her attention, these tactics. She could be forgiven, then, for not noticing right away that they had slowed and begun to veer off course.
She swung her head around, checking to see if Sam was still at the controls. His avatar still stretched out, pale and ethereal, in front of the nosecone of the ship but the translucent face was turned in the direction of their turn. Alice pivoted about and grabbed Sam by the ankle. He glanced back for a second but turned his face forward again, intent on something that was just now settling into the crosshairs of their navigation computer. She pulled herself up his leg and peered over his shoulder.
This was an illusion, of course. The starship’s computer, at her mental request, simply piggy backed her onto Sam’s frontal array sensors so that she could see what he was seeing. In the altered state of ship control, the body was plugged into the contacts embedded in the control chairs safely inside the ship while the data feed from the sensor arrays hijacked key brain functions so that one saw what the ship saw, felt what the ship felt. The mind perceived the ship as part of its own body and the ship responded in kind. It felt like flying naked through space. Once, long ago, she had delighted in the almost sensual connection to the vast dark of space. Long ago, before the endless flight and the constant running had begun to erode her sense of wonder.
Alice ran her hand over Sam’s back. His navigation avatar looked thin, more translucent than usual and a little frayed at the edges. That was understandable. They had been flying like this for longer than she cared to remember, always on edge, always on alert, always one step in front of those who hunted them.
“What are you doing? Whats wrong?” she asked, peering over his illusory shoulder. Something winked cheerfully in the distance.
“I’m tired. I have to sleep,” Sam said wearily.
“Fine. Let me take over.”
“You’ve had less sleep than I have. We need to rest.”
“We can’t afford to stop,” she said, trying to sound calm even though the old panic was starting to claw its way up her throat again.
“We need provisions and fuel and sleep,” he said firmly. “I want to eat real food, even if it is only beancurd steak and yeast fries.”
Alice stared at the blinking light. Something was not right. The massive cluster of multi colored lights hung on the edge of a vast field of nothing. No light, no psychic emissions, no energy on any bandwidth, no subatomic particles of any sort were coming out of a region of space large enough to contain a small solar system. It was like looking at a hole in the fabric of space/time. Warnings jangled up and down her spine.
“Holy Crap!” Alice yelled. “What the hell is that? Are you crazy. Stop! Turn around.”
Sam followed her gaze.
“Relax. It’s a field damping array. Its harmless as long as you stay on this side of the wall.”
“Who the hell would build…” she felt sick just looking at it. The thing was a crime against nature.
“The Hoppity Boppity Corporation built it. The inside is a pretty exclusive destination resort.”
Resort. She had heard about things like that. Rich people hanging about being useless, doing useless things. Alice’s avatar curled its lip in disgust at the very idea and eyed it suspiciously.
She queried the ship’s data base. The Hoppity Boppity Corporation, a multiplanetary corporation who had originally amassed an obscenely large fortune making animated rabbit videos for kids. Currently it made its money marketing whole life illusions, illusions people were willing to shell out enormous amounts of money for so that they could forget for a few moments that their lives were mundanely horrific or horrifically mundane, whatever the case may be.
“I don’t trust this place. Who builds a resort out on the Edge and then advertises their positions so openly? It could be a trap,” Alice sniffed suspiciously.
“Its a vacation resort,” Sam sighed tiredly. “Resorts advertise. Resorts are happy places full of happy people doing happy things. Resorts are well guarded by big hairy guys whose only purpose is to make sure everyone stays happy. I want to pretend to be happy for a change. Let the stupid rabbit guard us for a while.”
His voice had that edge to it that said they were about to get into another shouting match if she pushed too hard.
She looked back. Nothing tugged at her senses. Nothing demanded her attention. She wanted to say that everything was fine but she could not shake the conviction that they needed to keep running. She looked forward. The vast dampening array put her teeth on edge. She looked at the set scowl on Sam’s face.
“Fine. Food, fuel, provisions, sleep. Then we hightail it out of here,” she said, relenting.
“Fine,” Sam replied tersely.
Alice dropped out of the sensor array and opened her eyes. She lay semi recumbent, clothed only in the body stocking that enhanced the body/chair symbiosis. Cradled in the padded control chair, the body could not be ejected by sudden maneuvers but it also made it hard to get out. She beat out a pattern with the fingers of her right hand. The chair relaxed its hold. Alice stretched and hit the exit button. The chair swung on its central pivot and she slid out, landing on the cold metal deck plates.
A chorus of excited chitters made her look up. Four pairs of reptilian eyes gleamed redly down at her. The dry rustle of leathery wings and querulous growls followed as the females pushed the males away in preparation for flight. Her imp, Ivana, came gliding down to land on Alice’s shoulder, tangling her claw tipped fingers in Alice’s short brown curls. The imp was tiny and only vaguely humanoid, its head no bigger than her fist but size was deceiving in a creature that existed simultaneously in multiple dimensions. A wingless imp popped into the air just above her other shoulder and caught at metallic fabric of her body stocking to keep his balance.
“Fun, boss?” Igor asked with great anticipation. “Is it true? We get to have fun?”
Alice looked around. Sam was still in the cradle, senseless to what was going on in the cabin. He would stay that way until they docked.
“Yeah. Fun,” Alice said, a mischievous smile replacing her worry frowns. The imps had a nose for trouble. Hoppity Boppity be picking up the pieces for days after they left. “You know the rules. Don’t break anything that might endanger our lives. Don’t go overboard. You know, fun, but I like subtle.”
“Subtle is my middle name, Boss,” Igor agreed happily.
Ivana snorted at the irony but remained silent.
Alice laughed as she strode towards the weapons locker.
Sam found her in front of her locker half a click later.
“Take that all off. They don’t allow weapons past the airlocks.”
Alice hugged her rifle to her armored chest and looked horrified.
“I am not going in there naked,” she growled stubbornly.
“Then stay here. I will go out alone,” Sam growled back.
“Not a chance in hell. You need someone to watch your back.”
“No weapons, Alice,” Sam said firmly, stripping off the bodystocking. “No combat boots. No battle armor. No camo fatigues. Take it all off. People on vacation wear happy little slippers and happy lounge wear.”
Alice opened her mouth to argue about the lounge wear but Sam glared at her. Sputtering in frustration she began jerking off her gear. She glared up at him as she kicked off her boots.
“I’m taking my imps. You cant stop me,” Alice snarled. Igor stuck his head out of an open locker, looking droopy eared and forlorn.
Sam’s imps cooed in sympathy from somewhere up in the girders.
“Of course. I am fairly certain no one has yet figured out how to keep them out of anywhere. And they might come in handy.” Sam said, smiling up at the ceiling.
Igor grinned and dived back into the locker. Ivana’s giggle could be heard a few moments later. Alice ignored her imps extracurricular activities, trying one last time to get Sam to surrender his rigid control.
“I could hide a synth knife up my sleeve. It might get past the sensors,” Alice suggested hopefully.
“Absolutely not,” Sam said, opening his locker and pulling out a shirt.
Alice scowled crossly at him.
“You know, just because you are a couple thousand years older than me doesn’t mean you can boss me around.
“Yes, it does. It means I just might be wiser than you. And since I can kick your butt in every way that counts, I think you should respect my my wishes.”
“I will not be small forever.” Alice growled under her breath as she pulled on a pair of silk trousers.
“I dread the day,” Sam said dryly, slamming his locker and heading down towards the air lock.
Alice slid a blouse over her head, grabbed a pair of slippers, and ran after him.
Hoppity Boppity Land
Sam didn’t have to eat beancurd steak. The protein had been walking around in a pasture recently and tasted like sunshine and grass and clean water. Alice moaned as she chewed on the first bite and closed her eyes. Having her eyes closed also stopped her from having to stare at the garishly animated holographic ads hanging over ever surface of the resort. Cavalcades of Hoppity Boppity rabbits and all his friends, along with every character franchise the Hoppity Boppity Corporation had ever created, decorated the walls, floors, tables and the furniture, right down to the plates and silverware. Happy rabbit songs played softly in the background. After the long silence of space, Alice found the assault on her senses more than a little overwhelming.
Alice opened her eyes, still chewing contentedly. There was a sign on the wall behind Sam.
EARTHQUEST
THE ULTIMATE GAME EXPERIENCE
GROW OLD AND DIE OVER AND OVER
See your concierge for menus and departure times
Underneath the words was a video of an old man laying in a bed hooked up to an intimidating array of wires and tubes surrounded by people with faces twisted in a gross parody of tragedy. Alice puzzled over the meaning of that while she nibbled on a real potato fry. The thought of allowing her body to disintegrate and succumb to the Chaos of the Universe horrified her and Alice could not imagine any situation where that would be remotely fun.
She had to stop eating after the fries, her stomach near to bursting. Sam, however, had his head down and was working his way through his second steak.
Alice turned and studied the other signs while her fingers played with the little plastic ID bracelet they’d riveted around her wrist at the air lock. The name on it was fictitious and amusing. Bambi Babbitt it said.
She puzzled over one ad.
PLAY PARTNER QUEST
THE ULTIMATE HIDE AND SEEK GAME
Ask about our price discount for couples
That video underneath had a man and women in a lip lock. It looked like he was trying to eat her face. Alice wrinkled her nose. Sam said that one day she would appreciate the stuff that happened between the sexes. Alice was not so convinced.
She studied the next ad.
EARTHQUEST
DROWN IN EMOTION
PURSUE SENSATION
SATISFY EVERY URGE
Post expedition addiction counseling extra
This video was the least offensive and the most obscure. It was a scene on a continuous loop of a sun setting into a vast and empty sea. Alice wondered what addiction was and why one would need to seek advice for it after wards.
An ad with a flyswatter caught her eye. Now, this one looked like it might be fun.
SURVIVE THE SWATTER
NEED TO PRACTICE YOUR SURVIVAL SKILLS?
NOT SURE YOU WANT TO COMMIT TO A FULL TIME CONTRACT?
TAKE A TEN MINUTE TEST TOUR
Alice turned back to Sam. He was slowing down. Maybe he would not growl this time if she asked him a question.
“What…,” she started to say.
Sam shoved the last fry into his mouth with one hand and pointed at the brochure standing in the middle of their table. She pulled it out of its charging stand and touched the screen. The happy couple running on the beach was replaced with an array of menus. She touched “Games”.
Another array of menus appeared. She scrolled down the endless list. It started with Apartheid, continued through Corporate Conquest, Fame, Genocide, Power and ended with World War. She touched “World War”.
A video containing a lot of explosions became the backdrop for a smooth voiced shill.
“World War. The ultimate game of strategy. Pick a side. Embrace your inner warrior. Die with honor ….”
Alice exited out to the previous menu and scrolled up. “Monkey Wrench” looked interesting. She initiated the ad.
“Have problems with authority? Want to stick it to the Man? Indulge your inner lone wolf. Choose Non-conformist, Saboteur, Gadfly, Prophet, Martyr, Anti-Christ…..”
Alice exited out quickly. The video that accompanied the voice bordered on torture porn. Her finger touched the next option by mistake.
“Murder your game? There are many openings in suicide bomber, assassin, executioner. Please note: There is a waiting list for Serial killer….”
“Gahhh!” Alice yelled tossing the brochure away in disgust. Sam’s arm shot out and plucked it out of the air and plunked it neatly back into its holder.
“This place is….” Alice said, searching for an appropriate word as she rubbed her hands on her thighs to get rid of the tainted feeling.
“Making mint?” Sam suggested helpfully.
“Perverted was the word I was looking for.”
“Oh, come on. Wait until you are a half a million years old. You might appreciate a little harmless entertainment once in a while, just so you can forget who you are.”
“Old people are creepy. I am never going to grow up. I’ve just decided,” Alice said as she wrinkled her nose.
“Your dad needs you all grown up so you can go back and help him,” Sam reminded her.
Alice stared at Sam, her breath stuck in her throat. This was a subject they had both been avoiding for…well, a very long time, ever since… Alice looked down at her greasy plate. She picked up her fork and pushed a limp fry around in its puddle of sauce.
“Do you think he is still alive?” she asked softly.
“I have to believe it.” Sam said.
Alice looked up and saw the pain in his eyes. She knew the fire that burned inside Sam, the fire that drove him on, long after reason told him to give up and surrender. Sam was many things but he was a soldier first and foremost and his loyalties lay exclusively at her father’s feet and therefore, by proxy, at hers.
The com unit on Sam’s belt beeped. He palmed it and read something that made him leap to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. Alice rose in alarm. Sam’s imps, Web and Win, popped in, squeaked in alarm, then popped out again. Sam had sent them on an errand. Alice greatly admired his ability to give non-verbal commands.
“Come on,” Sam snarled, heading towards the exit, “Ship picked up a telltale. Soldier drone about half a click out. We might just make it”
Alice raced after him, running to keep up with his long strides. Her imps popped into mid air just above her head.
“Ship alarm is sounding, Boss,” Igor informed her.
“No kidding,” Alice panted grimly as Sam broke into a run in the long ramping corridor that led down to the docks. She could not match Sam in a sprint but she knew where to find him so she slowed a bit to ease the cramps around her overfull stomach.
“Want us to go break something?” Ivana asked hopefully.
“Its a soldier drone. Last time I checked they were imp proof,” Alice wheezed.
“True. But we could go spit in its eye and slow it down,” Igor suggested.
“Anything,” she agreed.
The two disappeared with a small pop.
Alice found Sam in the Dock Masters Office. He had the little official by the throat.
“Get me my ship now!” Sam thundered.
“You said your stay was over night. I put it in the queue for resupply.”
“Get it out of queue!” Sam roared.
“But sir,” the man gurgled, “its all automated. I can’t.”
Alice cocked her head and stared at the dock master’s rapidly discoloring face.
“He’s lying,” she said with utter certainty. “He doesn’t want to lose the commission.”
“You little weasel.” Sam picked him up and shook him like a rat. “This is about the money? I know damned well all your systems have a emergency override. I will double the commission if you get my ship back here in the next five minutes.”
“Fine, fine,” squeaked the little man. “Put me down.”
Sam’s hip beeped again, distracting him.
Igor and Ivana popped into the room
“Ship’s been painted, boss,” Igor said. “Drone’s weapons systems are locked on. Maybe we can steal another ship. There’s a sweet little yacht tied up two airlocks down.”
Alice grabbed Sam’s arm. It was rigidly locked around the Dock Master’s throat, his eyes looking off into the unseen distance. She recognized his fugue state. He was calculating all their possible moves and weighing every option. It was his gift, this. She trusted his skill implicitly. Had he not been outwitting every tactical expert, man and machine, for all this time? But time was rapidly becoming a rare commodity in their lives.
“Gotta go!” Alice screamed, digging her fingers into his muscles, knowing pain was the only trigger that would bring him back to reality. Sam blinked and looked down at her, his eyes dark with thought.
“They wouldn’t dare shoot you. You have no value to them if you are dead.” Sam shook his head, glancing at his com unit, the Dock Master forgotten but still suspended at the end of his other arm.
“The drone knows we aren’t on board,” she said beating her fist into his forearm. Sam looked up and remembered to drop the official, who scrambled away on all fours, wheezing for breath. “If it destroys the ship, we are stranded and it can pick us off at its leisure. We need to steal another ship,” Alice shouted, tugging on his arm. She waited just long enough to see if he was following and then sprinted after Igor and Ivana.
She got about three steps down the hallway when the entire resort dropped out from under her feet and slammed sideways. The bulkhead hit her and slapped her into the opposite wall with stunning force. The world reduced itself down to a pinpoint of light for a moment. She found herself sprawled in the middle of the hallway, her ears ringing, Igor and Ivana yelling in either ear, excited about something.
Sam crawled over to her and began running hard hands over her arms and legs. The sound of alarm klaxons filled the air.
“Are you hurt? Can you stand?” shouted Sam.
That was a silly question, Alice thought vaguely, as she rolled over and managed to get onto her hands and knees.
Sam hauled himself to his feet and pulled her after. She surprised herself by managing not to fall down again.
“I could really use my rifle about now,” Alice commented to no one in particular.
“Which way?” Sam yelled.
“What?”
“You are the Time Witch. Which way?” Sam insisted.
Alice swung her head around and then pointed in the direction that tugged at all her senses.
“That’s away from the ships, wee bit. Try again.” Sam said patiently.
Ivana popped in.
“Bad news, Boss. The drone shot a ship-cracker into the dock level. All the air locks are open to hard vacuum.”
Sam swore softly. Igor appeared.
“Drone is peeling the bulkhead back, making a hole big enough to crawl through,” he said with obvious delight. Igor appreciated things more destructive than himself. “You got about 20 seconds head start,” he added encouragingly.
“Take point.” Sam said, pushing her down the hall in front of them. Alice gave a frantic look towards the bulkhead and then turned and started running.
It took all her concentration to keep herself connected to that thread of energy that tugged imperceptibly on the edge of feeling. The golden thread was her beacon, her guiding light. It kept her feet on the right path through the chaos. It was always the indicator of the right way to go. There was just one problem. Her current path was awash a tumultuous sea of bad choices.
She lost the sense of it and then found it again and then lost it again as she slammed into a wall and careened around a corner. Running down the hall and dodging around screaming tourists running in the opposite direction was not like sitting in the cocoon of a control chair, where she could forget she had a body. She still had to remember to keep her feet under her and remember that bodies did not go through solid walls without a lot of preparation.
The deck shuddered under her feet. More klaxons wailed over her head.
Igor popped in with Ivana right behind.
“They don’t build the interior bulkheads very well, do they?” Igor commented to Ivana.
“The drone is not bothering with hallways and doors, Boss,” Ivana said.
The hallways rapidly emptied round them. There must have been an announcement about evacuation routes but she did not remember hearing it.
She skidded to a halt suddenly. The trail led down, below her feet.
“What?” Sam asked. The deck shuddered and the sound of destruction was now audible behind them.
“We need to go down.”
Sam pivoted and retraced their steps to a bank of express elevators. He stabbed the down button viciously. Alice stared back down the hallway and not for the last time, wished fervently for a small rocket launcher.
The elevator doors opened just as the drone turned the corner, its metal shoulders crumpling walls, its reptilian head stooped to clear the ceiling.
Alice stared at it in terror and found herself backing away.
Sam swore. He grabbed her and tossed her into the elevator and then piled in after her, his fingers scrabbling frantically over the control buttons. Nothing happened. Sam pounded on the last button on the bottom repeatedly, his breath making harsh rasping sounds in the back of his throat. The heavy tread of the robot drone shook the deck plates as it approached. Alice shoved her fist in her mouth and tried not to scream. God’s cursed Hoppity Boppity Corp., thought Alice. Even their elevators functioned at a casual speed.
When the doors finally began to close she nearly wept with relief. A lifetime passed between heartbeats but at last the doors snapped closed and the elevator floor dropped precipitously under their feet.
They both looked up, listening hard. A distant thunder preceded the jolt. The elevator box shuddered and danced on its safety cables. Alice clung to the railing, as the lights flickered. She stared at the message board above the control panel. It ceased giving floor readouts, instead showing a cartoon bunny hopping across the screen, the image stuttering and rebooting, stuck in perpetual leap, the program unprepared for such assaults and unable to offer coherent advice.
She did not dare go looking for the golden thread for fear of what she would find there. Good or bad, they had committed themselves to this ride down into hell and there was nothing she could do to alter that.
The sound of alarms went silent suddenly.
“Mister and Miss Babbitt,” a calm female voice purred seductively over the elevator’s sound system. “Please remain where you are. Security teams are converging on your . I repeat. Please remain stationary. Any further action on your part will result in severe penalties.”
They looked up in the general direction of the voice. Of course, the elevators were wired for sound and video.
“How….?” Alice looked over at Sam in confusion.
He held up his wrist and shook the cursed wrist ID at her. Oh, yeah. Alice had forgotten. Her name was supposed to be Bambi.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think we can do that. That thing is trying to kill us.” Sam said brightly while he tugged fiercely on the band.
“Igor!” Alice snapped, holding out her arm. “Bite!”
“Yes, I understand that, Mr Babbitt, but your flight is causing incalculable damage to this facility. The Hoppity Boppity Corporation would be grateful if you would stop running and allow…..”
Igor popped onto Alice’s arm and used his sharp little teeth to cut through the plasteel band while Sam’s Web did the same. The cameras probably were not set to pick up inter-dimensional energies, so it was doubtful they could see the imps. But watching their bracelets tear apart and stop functioning certainly got their attention.
“What are you doing?” the woman demanded. “That is corporate property. Damages, fines and penalties are being added to your bill. You have just been marked as an Uncooperative. Our security response will be severe and…..”
The doors began to open. Alice launched herself at the gap and shouldered the doors open. Sam’s weight shoved her from behind. She popped out of the elevator like a cork out of a bottle, Sam on her heels. The noise of the klaxons hit them like a wall. Alice stumbled, momentarily disoriented. Sam caught her arm and pulled her on. The corridor opened up in a vast room. Sam shoved her in front of him.
“Which way?” he shouted.
Alice pivoted, trying to get her bearings. A vast empty waiting room full of plush lounge chairs stretched before them. Lights flashed everywhere. The noise was beating at her brain. Thinking was near impossible. She tried to see with her other senses, letting her gut tell her direction.
A sign hung over a long counter set in the far wall, its clerk stations currently empty. Alice sprinted towards it.
EMBARKATION
DIMENSIONAL INSERTION 100% GUARANTEED
FULL SENSORY EXPERIENCE ASSURED
“Wait, wait!” yelled Sam. “We can’t go in there! There has to be an emergency exit somewhere close.”
Alice turned and found an exit sign. Its arrow pointed back the way they had come.
Behind them, the elevator sounded like it was imploding.
“Move!” screamed Alice, as she turned and ran towards the counter. Without slowing, she launched herself headfirst over the counter. As the floor rose up to meet her, she tucked her shoulder and rolled, letting her momentum kick her back onto her feet and continue without slowing down. She heard Sam land right behind her.
Alice raced on, down an aisle between cubicles full of medical equipment and exam tables. The logical part of her brain insisted this was a dead end. The irrational part refused to give up. Alice kept running.
The wall at the end of the aisle caught her attention. The age pitted metal was glaringly out of place amidst all the plasteel and polished composite. As she neared she realized the wall was a pair of huge blast doors large enough to pass a small starshuttle. She slammed against metal, hoping they were not locked. The doors reverberated like a brass bell but did not open. She ran her hands over its surface, frantically looking for a lock or a latch.
“Alice!” Sam yelled in warning.
She looked over her shoulder. The drone was temporarily detained by the composite counter and its over-abundance of electronics. The war machine’s crystalline intelligence was solving its problem by dismantling the whole front of the embarkation room, counter, wall, terminals, hologram generators and all.
“Ivana! Igor!”
The imps popped into the air above her head, followed by Web and Win.
“We are going through this wall. Sam and I need a boost.”
“What! Oh, no we’re not,” Sam said, turning away. Alice launched herself at him and got her arm around his throat. He tried to break the hold with his fingers which only made her hold on tighter. Sam twisted in her stranglehold, elbowing her in the ribs. She snarled and hurled herself backwards. Overbalanced and entangled, they fell back against the doors.
“… don’t know boss. Its a containment ….” Igor was trying to explain something.
“Now, Igor!” Alice screamed, closing her eyes. She wished with all her might and aimed her will at the particles in the wall, trying to convince them they were water. All four imps grabbed whatever body part was handy and jerked their Masters through.
The wall sucked them in and spit them out again on the other side. Alice let go of Sam and ran her hands over her body, checking for missing body parts. She had lost all her clothes and a little bit of skin on her elbows. Sam was in better shape. Unfortunately, the only clothing he retained was his slippers.
Alice giggled. Sam took a great gulp of air and then turned, swinging a fist, trying to deck her. She danced out of the way.
“Don’t you ever….,” he wheezed.
The threat died on his lips as the doors reverberated. Something massive hit them from the other side.
Alice spun around, looking for a clue to their next move.
The Hoppity Boppity Corporation’s bright cheerful decorating scheme apparently ended at the doors. This room was all business. Steel plating covered every surface. Banks of screens and hard vacuum failsafe gauges lined the walls. All the lighting panels were set behind decompression proof grids. Everything looked old and well worn. For all appearances, they were standing in the guts of an ancient star class battleship. The only things that seemed out of place was the long line of circular single person escape chutes embedded in the far wall.
She crossed to the nearest opening and started looking for instructions. There were none. Figured. Hoppity Boppity probably rightly assumed that if you still needed instructions at this point, it would be simpler just to bundle you up and shove you in. Sam was staring at an ancient gauge.
“The potential energy use on these hatches are impossible. What kind of process would take that much power?” he asked in a puzzled voice. Alice had a suspicion but she was not going to tell him for fear he would refuse her next move.
The doors shuddered.
Ivana hovered over her hesitant master.
“The doors will hold for a few moments longer but if you are in the insertion tunnel when this containment room fails, it might be really, really bad,” the imp suggested helpfully.
“Right. Let’s go, Sam.”
“Which one?” he snapped in frustration, as he studied the row of hatches for some clue to purpose or destination.
“I don’t think it matters, just don’t use the one I use,” Alice yelled as she backed up, got a running jump and dove head first into the first chute that caught her eye.
Down the Rabbit Hole
Colonel Brannich paced the containment chamber. This was harder than it sounded as it involved detouring around the soldier drone which stood at attention in the middle of the room, frozen in time, its sensor array focused on the bank of insertion tubes, its head tilted in an oddly human attitude of listening. If one were to fantasize that robots might have feelings, this one seemed puzzled by the impossible disappearance of its prey.
Brannich would have ordered it out of his way, but currently its crystalline brain was undergoing minute scrutiny two levels up. Luckily, Hoppity Boppity maintained a state of the art science lab on site. His techs had commandeered the lab, the equipment, the station’s AI brain and all its databases. Hoppity Boppity Corp was not happy but they had complied without protest.
As the day progressed, Brannich’s impatience grew. The long and short of it was that the niece of the High Lord, with the help of her second cousin, had broken into an amusement park and disappeared. The most annoying part was that no one was quite sure how to find them even though they were hiding, quite literally, under his nose.
This was not a report Colonel Brannich intended to take back to his Master. Brannich scowled and looked around at the group of corporate types standing nervously by the doors.
Brannich crooked a finger at them. They crossed the room, en masse, like a herd of sheep with the smell of wolf up their nose.
“Tell me again why you can’t track them?”
They looked at each other and milled about until a lawyer type faced him.
“The High Lord’s drone caused an immense amount of damage. It will take us months to make all the repairs to our systems. Core backups failed. Data was lost. The costs to the Hoppity Boppity Corporation are incalculable.”
“The High Lord apologizes for the inconvenience,” Brannich nodded. “You will, of course, send all bills to the Central Planet for reimbursement.”
“If we could get that in writing….”
Brannich gave him a look that could have melted steel. The lawyer shut up and retreated into his herd.
Another of the herd emerged, one with a certain level of assurance that spoke of authority over this small domain. Brannich had not bothered to remember his name. Director, they called him. Brannich decided this one would be the first execution.
“There are very strict protocols for insertion into the game. These people did not follow them. They did not sign a contract, you see. The computers were not given tracking numbers. We know which tubes they used which narrows down the search to two continents but the longer we wait, the less this information will help us, as the players are very mobile and any unmarked player is considered a drone by the game.”
“So we just wait until they come out. Is that it?” Brannich asked.
Again there was a certain unease. The herd milled about and discussed things amongst themselves. Finally a new face stepped forward. This one had the air of a scientist.
“Normally, players are timed. When their contracts run out, we extract them. Our success rate for extraction is 99.8 percent. But when there is no contract and no tracking number, the time line becomes open ended.”
“What does that mean in layman’s terms, doctor?” Brannich asked patiently.
“They decide to come out when they decide to come out. They could choose to come out tomorrow or….. Well, I don’t like to speculate.”
“Please, by all means, speculate,” Brannich encouraged him, his annoyance visible.
“Inside the game, one only has environmental clues as to when time should be up. There are many factors. The average life span of the avatars. How damaged the avatar has become during play. How bored they get. How much fun they have while they play the game.”
“Worst case scenario, doctor. I need a number.”
“One hundred game years, perhaps, although the record is something around six hundred years, but that was back in the early days when we were just getting set up here and there was no waiting list. Back then, we let the players stay as long as they wanted.”
“I need a real number, please. Not imaginary time.”
“It depends on the nature of the contract. The computer times them out after a predetermined time. I think our current dead head schedule is for five years real time.”
“Five…. I’m sorry. The High Lord cannot wait that long. If I gave you their personality profiles, perhaps your computers could weed out all but a few thousand candidates and then we could start yanking them one by one.”
The doctor looked confused for a moment.
“I’m sorry. Did no one explain the purpose of the dampening field? It wipes all memory so that we can overwrite the player’s personality with the game matrix. This, as an added bonus, effectively warps the personality to conform to the rules of the game. Without the entry code, it is virtually impossible to track them.”
Brannich clenched his teeth and thrust his fists into his pockets to keep from strangling the good doctor. He turned and studied the screens. When he thought he had himself under control he turned back. The herd jumped at his icy stare and circled a bit but had the wisdom not to run.
“Satisfy my curiosity. Hypothetically,” Brannich asked carefully, “if someone as inherently powerful as, say, the High Lord, were to enter this game, what effect would the dampening field have on Him?”
Another scientist popped out of the herd, a frantic look on his face. This one smelled like a mathematician.
“You must convince the High Lord that this would be folly and to trust us lesser beings to find these people for him. The game was never created to house a pan-dimensional being. His very presence would create a series of unsolvable conundrums. This is why it is so important to go through the pre-screening. We actually look for those traits and refuse admittance.”
“Again, in layman’s terms, doctor.” Brannich sighed tiredly.
“The high lord’s personality, being who he is, would not succumb to the game matrix. Although the memory wipe might be intact in the initial drop, because he exists partially on other levels of space/time, it would cause a split in the core personality, a split someone of his capabilities would not allow to exist. He would resolve the conflict, heal his personality and remember.”
“Then he would leave. Problem solved”
“Yes, but ….”
Another scientist shoved his cohort aside. This one smelled like a psychiatrist.
“The healing of a split personality is not a matter of numbers but a matter of emotion. In the time between memory loss and memory restoration, a great internal turmoil caused by the unhealed split would arise. He would not remember that this is all merely a game and that he inhabits an avatar. He might think all threats were real and act accordingly”.
The mathematician elbowed the psychiatrist aside to add excitedly, “He could very well hijack the game matrix, rewrite its programing and co opt every player inside the game to do his will.”
The scientist jerked the mathematician aside and hissed something quite harsh. The mathematician paled.
“Utter fantasy. That would be impossible, of course. The program has built in fail safe programs,” the scientist said apologetically to Brannich. “Besides, there are too many dominant personalities embedded in the game to allow that to happen.”
“Either way,” Brannich growled, “he would awaken and leave the game. I do not see the problem. I will instruct my men to set up a full time outpost. We will piggy back onto your sensor arrays and then inform the High Lord.”
The herd milled about and argued amongst themselves. Finally, the authority figure, the Director, emerge again. He cleared his throat carefully.
“The danger of inserting the High Lord into the game cannot be overstated. You see, we fear for the integrity of the dampening field,” he said. “It was not meant to contain someone as powerful as the High Lord. Under his attention, the dampening field will shred, and all the players, who are limited to the amount of damage they can cause because they are contained within the matrix, will burst free, under the delusion that they are still playing the game. The possibilities of destruction in the outside world boggle the mind.”
Brannich suppressed a snarl. Had that bit of information gone into the documentation when they applied for their permits? Brannich doubted it.
“If it is truly that dangerous, it seems like I would be doing the whole of creation a favor if I was to pull my ships back to a safe distance and just shoot an SN bomb into the center of this whole mess, don’t you think?” he asked conversationally.
Someone in the herd tittered, but the rest had the sense to remain silent. The Director looked Brannich directly in the eyes.
“I am sure the Colonel was joking, weren’t you Colonel?” he said serenely. “All of the Hoppity Boppity Corporation’s resources are at your disposal. I am sure the Central Planets can come to our aid and provide resources we do not have access to. Together, in a partnership beneficial to us both, we will produce a timely solution that both sides can live with. Is that not right, Colonel?”
Brannich stared at the Director. The Director paled but did not flinch from that coldly calculating look. Brannich swallowed his disgust. The man assumed to speak to him as an equal but Brannich very much doubted the Director could understand a life spent devoted to the ideas duty and honor. Brannich kept his hand away from the weapon hanging from his belt until the urge passed. The silence became a live thing in the air. Sweat broke out on the Director’s forehead.
“Sure,” Brannich agreed at last. “Why not.” He pivoted on one heel and strode from the room, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The Director had just asked for access to the High Lord’s cadre of Mystics and Wizard Scientists. He would probably get it.
Brannich laughed to himself, as his squad of guards fell in behind him. The Director was a presumptuous fool. The High Lord would get his relatives back. Either the Mystics would dismantle this little playground one piece at a time until they found the fugitives or Alice and Sam would turn the place into scrap metal from the inside, an outcome that seemed the most likely. Either way, in the end, the High Lord would get what he sought and there would be nothing left here for Hoppity Boppity to put back together again.
