Chương 86: Chapter 83: George’s Run (XIV)

>>Well… that settles it. That ALL CAPS is a real dick. >>But that does put a satisfactory bow on a lot of our backstory questions. George peeled the gauntlet off his right hand. It came away with a hiss and a soft magnetic release, and underneath, the familiar shiny, puckered skin on the palm of his hand. Now he knew where the burn came from. But when he had awakened in the cradle for the first time, the wound on his hand had already become a scar.

He wondered how much time there had been between that first moment in the cradle and the moment when the chrome man pushed him into the pit. When the final memory ended, the portal leading to the next scenario room had opened. >> Stay with me, George. I know you've just been through the emotional wringer, but We have a portal ahead of us and we must press on. George walked over to look through the open portal. The scenario room was a wasteland that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The blackened ground was strewn with smoldering rocks that flashed with flame or glowed with a sullen orange light. George could see a bright ribbon of lava wending its way through the landscape.

"That does not look good," George said. >>In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. >>Get in there. Let's find out what we have to do. The moment George stepped through the portal, the heat assaulted him. Even through his newly improved armor, it was more than he could take. It was like being inside an oven. Entering Scenario Room Eleven Objective: Endure extreme forces—fire, ice, wind, water—in the elemental gauntlet for one hour.

Focus Stats: Durability, elemental resistance, pain tolerance Difficulty: Extremely hard Even the air inside his helmet was quickly becoming superheated. It burned his lungs with every breath. The heat felt like it was starting to bake his body. For a moment he told himself that he could take it but then the heat quickly crossed a threshold and he began to panic. >>Abort! >>Out for a penny! >>Out for a pound! George turned around and threw himself backward through the still-open portal.

He landed hard on the ground and rolled over to stare through the portal at the lava room.

"I can't do that, Nod," George gasped.

"Not for an hour." >>That room was over 900 degrees. Just a little hotter and you could melt granite in there. >>No, thank you. >>This might be the end of the road, George… >>Unless you want to become the Ill-Starred S'more, that is. George picked himself up and sank back into the seat beside the hearth. >>The good news is, this room doesn't have a timer, so we can have a nice little fireside brainstorm session. >> The bad news is we still don't know how to save Cassie and Max. >>However…

>>I have two ideas we have yet to try.

"Such as?" >>Well, first things first… >>When the armor re-evolved, six of the power slots didn't make it, but one of the abilities survived and repaired itself. It's called an emissary metalink, and best I can tell, it has some kind of comms ability. >>I can see the suit has some communication hardware and protocols in the code.

"Communicating with what?" >>Only one way to find out. George looked down at the dull white gem in his palm.

"This thing has already tried to kill us. Do you think this power is safe?" >>Technically this version hasn't tried to kill us. >>And here's the thing: George Brandiss is all over the code in here, too. Whatever this armor is, it isn't Webb's anymore. It bonded to you when it re-evolved. You are the Ill-Starred Knight. You're basically its dad. George was quiet for a moment, still turning the idea over.

"You're reading all this in the code?" >>Yup. >>Look. We're at the end of the line. We can't go into the next challenge room. We aren't ready to go back into the trial. We can't stay here in this pub forever. It's time to pull out all the stops. George closed his hand slowly around the shard, then opened it again and put the gauntlet back on.

"Turn it on." George felt motion in his shoulder—a small click, then a panel he hadn't known was there sliding open on the plate over his collarbone. Something inside rotated up into position, a lens no bigger than a marble catching the firelight. A beam of light unspooled from it, thin and faintly blue, and struck the far wall of the pub. Wherever the beam touched, the wall simply wasn't there anymore, and in its place was another room entirely.

The image was so complete and so close that George wondered if it was a portal. Nod said the metalink was for communication, but he had not expected this. The room the metalink revealed to him was an odd combination of chaotic and sterile. The walls looked like they were made of smooth stone with gentle recessed lighting. There were screens on the walls but George could make no sense of the tiny writing and arcane symbols scrolling across them. A woman sat at a desk in front of him. The desk was a wreck.

There were used food containers, small metal instruments he didn't recognize, an uncapped marker, and empty cups stacked two or three deep. Floating screens hung around the woman in a loose ring. She had not noticed him yet. She had curly, dark hair, pulled over to one side of her head. She pinched the tip of a pair of glasses between her lips. Her attention was fixed on the screen in front of her and in its blue glow she looked like half a corpse, like she hadn't slept in days.

Her expression was somehow both slack and anxious at the same time. Then she looked up at him and the glasses fell from her mouth and clattered on the desk. For a moment neither of them moved.

"Oh," she said. Her eyes ranged over him, snagging on the shard that was still glowing faintly in his gauntlet. Then she suddenly stood up and came around the desk, snatching up her glasses and jamming them back on her face. She plucked one of the floating screens from the air and held it in her hand, tapping at it as she spoke.

"Who are you," she said, "and how did you get that armor?" A prompt blinked into the corner of his vision before he could answer. Operator access requested. Grant status sync? Yes or no. She's set the tablet down.

"You should be seeing a prompt. When you accept it, I will have access to your metadata and the status of the shard." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. She stared at him for a moment and then looked at her tablet. She looked back up at him and waved her hand at him in an impatient gesture.

"Come on." George knew he probably looked strange, standing there silently — but she didn't seem thrown by an image of an armored man in an English pub suddenly appearing in her office.

"Look," she said, dropping the tablet on the desk and leaning back against it with her arms folded.

"You could tell me the story of how you got that armor, but I'm not going to trust you unless I get to read it myself in your metadata. You are clearly not Webb. Yet somehow you have both the armor and the shard. You've activated his Emissary Metalink and it connected us, which it shouldn't be able to do for anyone but him." George spoke for the first time.

"How do you know Webb?"

"I'm Moira, his Moa operator," she said finally.

"I have two clients." A pause.

"Had. Two clients. I have one client left. Soon after Webb's trial started, something happened to him and I lost his signal, then suddenly all the readings from the armor went crazy and then stopped altogether." >>My bad.

"Webb was dead when I found him," George said. She didn't answer right away. She picked the tablet back up, turned it over once in her hands, set it down again.

"Then you just put on his—" She stopped herself.

"That's impossible."

"It was the slime…" George began but Moira cut him off with an impatient wave.

"Not that." She blew out of breath.

"It should have killed you. Webb trained for years before he was ready to bond with the shard." She ran a hand through her mass of hair, pulling it from where it had fallen across her face.

"Never mind. Just accept the prompt and I'll be able to see it all myself." George glanced at the notification in his vision again.

"What happens if I accept this?" She held up one finger then a second, ticking off reasons without looking up from her tablet.

"First. I'll get the armor's status and be able to run a diagnostic on the shard. Next, I'll get your metadata, trial history, level, all of it." A third finger.

"And I'll get to do my job. They gave me Webb because I'm the best operator in a generation. If the armor really has bonded to you, then you're my new client." She looked up at him.

"So let me help you." >>Nod? >>I vote go for it. >>What's she going to do? Stick a death helmet in your head and coerce your obedience? >>Been there. That gave him an idea.

"Tell me more about how can you help me?"

"I'll know more when I get that metadata, but for starters I prepared in-depth packets on each of the people in your trial. Once we're connected I'll be able to send them to you. It analyzes strengths and weaknesses of each player and suggests optimal strategies." >>Um… yes, please.

"I have a problem," George said.

"A few problems actually. Maybe you can help with those too."

"Maybe. Let's hear them." He told her about how Murdo had showed up in his cradle just before the trial and convinced him to put on the helmet, which he then discovered came with some stipulations. When he was halfway through his explanation, she started tapping on one of the ubiquitous tablets and nodding along.

"I can't send you anything during the trial but we have people who may be able to work up a cocktail of antitoxins and get it to your cradle during the intermission," Moira said.

"The Moa won't want to cross the Rook but if that shard is really bonded to you, then you are a knight now. That comes with responsibilities… and privileges."

"Next problem?" She prompted.

"My children are in this game but I do not know where they are," George said.

"I just found out that one of them is in the trial." She put on a quizzical expression.

"Who?"

"He goes by Tycho but his real name is Max." George's throat closed. He was suddenly glad his face was hidden by the helmet. The memories he had just experienced were still close to the surface.

"I am becoming more and more curious about the story I am going to see in this metadata."

"Can you help me find them? Their names are Kat and Kit," George said.

"And can you help Max and I get out of this trial alive?"

"Tell you what," she pushed her glasses up.

"Accept that prompt, and I'll see what I can do about running a trace on your children." George accepted the request. A cascade of small notifications ran down the side of his vision too fast to read individually. On her end, three more screens bloomed into the air around her, and she pulled them close, eyes moving fast.

"Okay," she muttered, mostly to herself.

"Let's see. A cold state re-evolve. Wow. During a trial, no less. Six of seven powers gone, that's—no, we'll get to that." Her eyes tracked down.

"Second trial. Lowest level." She released that screen and it floated up into the air and she grabbed a different one.

"George Brandiss. Crafter." For some reason, a smile began to grow on her face. Suddenly, she burst into laughter. >>I think she just found out about the button. She released the tablet she was holding and bent over, still laughing. Gradually, she wiped her eyes as the laughter started to fade.

"I told you I had two clients but now only have one. One of my clients died a couple of days ago in a trial." She smiled again, holding back more laughter. >>Ho >>ly >>Shit"Do you know who that person was?" Moira said, looking up at George. >>ABORT! ABORT! George wasn't sure what to say. Suddenly, he was nervous about what was about to happen but was not sure why she had laughed.

"His name was Charlie James," she said.

"He was a shard technician, brilliant with hardware, absolute nightmare as a person." She tilted her head at George.

"I'm guessing he tried to take your nanites." George nodded. >>Dude. You killed both this lady's clients. >>But she seems… weirdly happy?

"But you stopped him," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Even though he had 150 levels on you."

"He turned into some kind of monster. I don't even know what to call it," George said. His mind flashed to the second transformation Charlie had undergone when he'd fallen into the nanite figments in the challenge room.

"You might say that Charlie had friends in high places," Moira said.

"He made a deal with the Lex for abilities that let him transform. They are like wizards but for bodies." She leaned back against the desk again, folding her arms across her chest.

"I've been his operator for four years. I watched him get whatever he wanted because he was one of the best shard technicians there is and the Moa Guild loves its shards. At some point, he requested me specifically to be his operator. I didn't know why at the time. Shortly thereafter, I found what he was doing in the trials. His side hustle." Her voice had gone flat.

"He… made sure I couldn't do anything about it." Then her face brightened and she looked up at him again.

"I owe you one, George." She smiled and stared at him for a moment. She took a screen from the air and she began to read again. Then, George watched her expression change. The relaxed posture she had adopted after her fit of laughter vanished and her whole body tensed up. She glanced up at him briefly and then looked back down at the tablet but she was no longer reading. She was just staring and thinking. Finally, she said, "George, are you aware that you have a node spider in your body?"

George gave a wry grin but of course she couldn't see it inside the helmet.

"Yeah. His name's Nod." >>…The Impaler.

"His—" She stopped.

"It has a name?"

"Yes. He's a friend."

"That is… irregular. Node spiders don't have names and they don't talk to their hosts."

"Well, I can't get this one to shut up," George said.

"They don't show up in player metadata. That's part of the point. But we've used them before on enemies and I can see signature code traces in the interaction with the armor. It seems to have already spread its intraskeleton through part of your body." Nod raised George's hand and waved. George took back control of it and pulled it down to his side. >>No one understands our forbidden love.

"Node spiders eat holes in their host's neural pathways and use the wreckage to run whatever program they were sent in there to run in the first place. The hosts rarely even know of their existence before it's too late," she said in a lecturing tone.

"If you have one inside you—" She stared at the floor as if unsure how to continue.

"I don't even know what that means for the shard, or you role as a knight." >>Hmm. If she can see when I interact with the armor on her fancy little screen, maybe I can try… Activity on her screen caught her eye and she looked down. Her face tightened in confusion.

"It is talking to me." >>Nod… >>What?

"What is he saying?" George asked.

"It's making fun of you," Moira said. >>This is great! Another audience member for my wry, bantery charm.

"This shouldn't be possible," she said.

"As far as I understand Nod is a sentient AI that entered the game in the form of a node spider. He has been working with me and I wouldn't be here without him, but he does come with certain personality drawbacks you have to get used to." Her eyes darted back and forth, putting the story together.

"That's how you survived putting on the armor."

"Something like that."

"But that doesn't explain how the appearance of the armor has changed so much, nor how you were able to initiate a cold state re-evolve. Did the Node Spider do that?" Moira said.

"Not exactly. I bet it's in that metadata if you keep reading." She looked down at her tablet again.

"Um. It is trying to tell me about someone named Eddie Brock and someone called Venom." She looked slightly horrified.

"I'm… lost."

"Just ignore that." Moira rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"Okay," she said.

"I've been awake way too long. We are going to put a pin in the node spider for now." She continued reading.

"I see that you are in a named challenge room that resulted from a converged boon from two concepts. You are full of surprises." She read a bit longer and then said, "Have you been able to make contact with a player called Sarala? She is a Moa and should be able to help you."

"In a manner of speaking, I have," George said.

"She just sprang a trap designed to let every player except for Neco to kill each other. I'm pretty sure she thinks I killed Webb because of the armor."

"Ok. Yeah, that makes sense. She's not an enemy you want to have. She and Webb were close. If she thinks you are the reason he is dead, she is going to come for you," Moira said.

"So I gathered." Moira walked around to her desk again and sat down.

"I'll reach out to her operator. Try to get her to rein Sarala in, or at least buy you some breathing room." Moira picked up a stylus and started dragging glowing icons toward one of the floating screens.

"I'm sending you the player packets now. I'm not sure when you'll get to read them in the middle of a trial, but there is a lot of helpful information in there." [Incoming Transmission—Metalink Sender: Moira Voss, Operator #4471 Dossiers Package Contents: Player histories, combat profiles, known associates, psych flags, Operator notes] >>Diving into these now. I'll give you highlights.

"You've only got one voting round before your intermission."I need to reach Sarala's operator, get the antitoxin rolling, explain to someone upstairs how we lost one knight and gained another. That's a lot, George. Maybe more than you have time for. So, I need to get to work."

"I can't contact you through my side of the link, but I'll be ready when you need to contact me." She raised a hand—not quite a wave, more an acknowledgment—and turned back to her desk.

"Bye, George Brandiss. I'm going to go try to keep you alive now." >>Can I just say… >>It sure is a good thing that I made you put on this armor. >>All's well that ends well, I say. George shut off the link and the tiny projector retracted back into his shoulder armor.