Read Online Black Sun (Phantom Server: Book #3) by Andrei Livadny - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andrei Livadny
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using the hyperspace network). Requires activation
Disintegration, 10 (destroys molecular bonds in a selected object)
Plasma Blast, 5 (allows a selected nanite group to self-destruct, forming a cloud of ionized gas)
Plasma Lash, 2 (requires a generator built by Object Replication)
Self-Sacrifice, 4 (allows your nanites to self-destruct in order to exterminate enemy nanites)
Integration, 2 (allows you to upgrade your weapons and gear)
Advanced Integration, 2 (allows you to upgrade complex equipment, including spaceships’ subsystems)
System failure, 5 (temporarily disables cybernetic parts of a selected device)
Breakdown, 5 (temporarily disables moving parts of a selected device)
Critical Damage, 5 (permanently disables moving parts of a selected device)
“In my opinion, Strength, Willpower, Learning Skills and Charisma are the biggest suspects,” I summed up. “They are the ones most likely to have been forced on us by the military geeks. All the other skills have a confirmed history of being used in implants, databases and nanite control codes.”
“We should tell all the others about this,” Liori agreed. “I’ll forward them the files to study while they still have time.”
“Excellent. Now let’s go and see what Arbido has come up with.”
* * *
The conference room was quiet: the same room where I’d stood yesterday showing the others how the Founders’ hyperspace navigator worked by connecting it to my Earth-bound in-mode capsule.
Arbido kept silent, brooding and fidgeting in his seat which was too large for his current build.
The door hissed open, letting in Novitsky and Foggs. I hadn’t seen Novitsky since Darg. Now, as I shook his hand, I was surprised to notice his tag,
Level 29. Exobiologist.
He'd done some nice leveling in the meantime! He stood tall and proud. I could barely recognize the Colonial fleet lieutenant who had once sat sobbing on the edge of that fetid alien swamp.
“Hi, man,” I said. “Great to see you. You haven’t wasted your time.”
“The Exobiologists sector on Argus only looks looted,” he added, openly pleased with the effect. “There’s actually a lot of interesting stuff still left over there.”
“Everyone ready?” Arbido interrupted us. Same old, same old. He was too used to bossing everyone around to drop the habit overnight.
“No point in waiting for Frieda,” Jurgen fidgeted with the wedding ring on his finger. “She’s with the kids. Why did you want to see us? Just keep it short. We have too many things to do.”
“They can wait,” Arbido grumbled. He scrambled down his seat and began pacing the room. What an unfortunate avatar, being stuck in the body of a puny goblin. Not that he’d had much say in the matter.
Unexpectedly for everyone, Charon rose, grabbed Arbido with his long scaly arms and lifted him in the air, perching the old man on the back of a seat. “Now we can see you well,” he barked. “Speak up.”
Arbido paused, gathering his wits. “I know many of you won’t like it but I’m absolutely sure the game developers are still fucking us around!” he blurted out.
I watched the others’ reactions.
Foggs listened closely. Ralph waved Arbido’s suggestion away. Jurgen got predictably angry,
“Didn’t Zander prove to us all last night that our identities have been transported via the interstellar network while our physical bodies are about to croak in the in-mode capsules back on Earth?
“I don’t believe it,” my ex-employer snapped. “There are no Founders. There is no interstellar network. They keep using us as guinea pigs, as simple as that! And Earth must be thriving!”
Jurgen rose from his seat. “Novitsky, have you got any downers? He obviously could use some. Let’s go, Zander. We’re wasting our time.”
“Jurgen, wait,” I said. “Let Arbido speak.”
Unlike the others, I knew the old man well. He could always offer a realistic view of any situation, however peculiar
Disintegration, 10 (destroys molecular bonds in a selected object)
Plasma Blast, 5 (allows a selected nanite group to self-destruct, forming a cloud of ionized gas)
Plasma Lash, 2 (requires a generator built by Object Replication)
Self-Sacrifice, 4 (allows your nanites to self-destruct in order to exterminate enemy nanites)
Integration, 2 (allows you to upgrade your weapons and gear)
Advanced Integration, 2 (allows you to upgrade complex equipment, including spaceships’ subsystems)
System failure, 5 (temporarily disables cybernetic parts of a selected device)
Breakdown, 5 (temporarily disables moving parts of a selected device)
Critical Damage, 5 (permanently disables moving parts of a selected device)
“In my opinion, Strength, Willpower, Learning Skills and Charisma are the biggest suspects,” I summed up. “They are the ones most likely to have been forced on us by the military geeks. All the other skills have a confirmed history of being used in implants, databases and nanite control codes.”
“We should tell all the others about this,” Liori agreed. “I’ll forward them the files to study while they still have time.”
“Excellent. Now let’s go and see what Arbido has come up with.”
* * *
The conference room was quiet: the same room where I’d stood yesterday showing the others how the Founders’ hyperspace navigator worked by connecting it to my Earth-bound in-mode capsule.
Arbido kept silent, brooding and fidgeting in his seat which was too large for his current build.
The door hissed open, letting in Novitsky and Foggs. I hadn’t seen Novitsky since Darg. Now, as I shook his hand, I was surprised to notice his tag,
Level 29. Exobiologist.
He'd done some nice leveling in the meantime! He stood tall and proud. I could barely recognize the Colonial fleet lieutenant who had once sat sobbing on the edge of that fetid alien swamp.
“Hi, man,” I said. “Great to see you. You haven’t wasted your time.”
“The Exobiologists sector on Argus only looks looted,” he added, openly pleased with the effect. “There’s actually a lot of interesting stuff still left over there.”
“Everyone ready?” Arbido interrupted us. Same old, same old. He was too used to bossing everyone around to drop the habit overnight.
“No point in waiting for Frieda,” Jurgen fidgeted with the wedding ring on his finger. “She’s with the kids. Why did you want to see us? Just keep it short. We have too many things to do.”
“They can wait,” Arbido grumbled. He scrambled down his seat and began pacing the room. What an unfortunate avatar, being stuck in the body of a puny goblin. Not that he’d had much say in the matter.
Unexpectedly for everyone, Charon rose, grabbed Arbido with his long scaly arms and lifted him in the air, perching the old man on the back of a seat. “Now we can see you well,” he barked. “Speak up.”
Arbido paused, gathering his wits. “I know many of you won’t like it but I’m absolutely sure the game developers are still fucking us around!” he blurted out.
I watched the others’ reactions.
Foggs listened closely. Ralph waved Arbido’s suggestion away. Jurgen got predictably angry,
“Didn’t Zander prove to us all last night that our identities have been transported via the interstellar network while our physical bodies are about to croak in the in-mode capsules back on Earth?
“I don’t believe it,” my ex-employer snapped. “There are no Founders. There is no interstellar network. They keep using us as guinea pigs, as simple as that! And Earth must be thriving!”
Jurgen rose from his seat. “Novitsky, have you got any downers? He obviously could use some. Let’s go, Zander. We’re wasting our time.”
“Jurgen, wait,” I said. “Let Arbido speak.”
Unlike the others, I knew the old man well. He could always offer a realistic view of any situation, however peculiar
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