The Starfighter Invitation

48 player vs player vs environment

"Pin them here, while we go get the core," one of the two sled drivers said, and started off at an angle.

"No problem," one of the three on the other sled said.

"Nova smash," Silent said, though only over our channel, so the departing players had no warning when their sled slammed downward, distinctly crumpled along the central shaft. Dislodged oxygen canisters whirled away. The driver spun off sideways while her passenger bounced off the nearest spire.

Arlen gasped as the second group began pounding our shields, but they just as quickly stopped, thrown into a spiral toward the dome ceiling by their use of lan. Instead of bouncing, they sensibly anchored themselves to a broad swathe of bare metal.

"I do not like to hit them directly," Arlen said. "Perhaps if we destroy their sled?"

"Good —"

Nina’s response was lost to arcs of white. Lightning? No, it was less defined, more diffuse. As if an aurora had come to ground. The driver of the wrecked sled shrieked, and went limp, while the second frantically shielded. My team instinctively added layers to our own shield bubble until it was five strong, and still we had to wince. Beneath the layers of suit, my skin felt like it had gone entirely to goose flesh.

The brightness lasted not much longer than thirty seconds—definitely less than a minute—and faded to flickers around the pillars. I could see that the group stuck to the ceiling—and outside the main area of the light display—had managed their own little dome in time, and one of their other team members was still moving, though sluggishly.

"Anyone hurt?" Nina asked, moving one arm gingerly.

"I’d hate to know the long-term effects of exposure to that stuff," Silent said. "I don’t feel healthy, but I expect—" He broke off, and I could hear his sharp intake of breath.

"The Renba," Imoenne said. "Mine, it is gone."

I’d completely forgotten Renba management: a stupid lapse. But mine was still sitting quietly on top of my helmet, and Nina’s on hers. Silent, Imoenne and Arlen’s had been outside our shields, and only Arlen’s was still there, hovering near the top of the dome. From the exclamations of dismay, the other team had suffered similar losses.

"Dio," I said, into the group channel, "Can we use each other’s Renba?"

[[[[Renba cannot be shared.]]]]

Ryzon’s multilayered voice seemed to echo in the dome, answering a question I guess both teams had posed.

[[Bios too often brought along sacrificial companions purely for use of their Renba,]] Dio added privately to me. [[We encourage teamwork, but the risk must be personal.]]

And the risk, right now, was permadeath in the game. Exile from The Synergis.

"Well, this is a complication," Silent said. "Perhaps the two of us could hold here while you three go ahead?"

No-one answered immediately, then Nina said slowly: "It may be the only way. But if this other team attacks you…"

"Forget the other team," I said, mouth dry. "Look at the base of that pillar."

Around each pillar the rounded piles, collapsed blancmanges of indefinite shape, quivered and writhed as black creatures emerged. Not hatching, but from in between the lumps, as if from a nest. Four tapering legs in the shape of a flattened X. No obvious eyes or mouth. A suggestion of hair, like a tarantula, but shorter, and downier. The tips of each leg tapering to a flattened hook shape.

The audience had dubbed them Cutters. I’d only seen the things in flashes on the streams of the other groups, but that had been more than enough. Fast, deadly, and strong enough to bring shields down with a little persistence. A roaming handful had ripped through players on the hydroponic level. And here there were dozens.

"Oh, sh–," someone above us began, then hastily quieted.

The Cutters paused, but didn’t respond further, continuing to spread from the base of the pillars. At least three were meandering toward us, not as if they saw us, but because they were going in a direction and we were in the way.

"What are the chances they crawl over the top of our dome?" I asked.

"Mild repel on the outside of shields," Nina reminded me.

"That could be to our advantage," Silent said. "If they then crawl around us."

A distant echo of sound sent a stir of reaction through the advancing horde. And then they drew their legs together like collapsing umbrellas and launched themselves forward, almost all of them vanishing off to our left. Almost all.

"Hatch opening?" Nina said.

"Yeah." Silent paused, then added: "Only one person had started through and they got back down in time, but haven’t closed it yet."

"Our hatch, it is still open," Arlen said.

It wasn’t even all that far away. If not for the handful of Cutters that hadn’t moved.

"Temi, what would happen if Silent and Imoenne put full shields around themselves?" Nina asked, into the team channel.

Nina’s Cycog’s response came over the same Channel, rather than being projected to the room as Ryzon’s had been.

[[_Skipping without a vehicle is a tactic Bios often employ during extremis. We recover less than 1% of them, and fewer alive. Most do not have the advantage of wearing environment suits, however._]]

"So that’s probably the best way out of this?" Silent asked.

[[_If you formed a full lan sphere and then immediately released it, you would very likely be transported somewhere else within The Wreck,]] Artemis replied. [[_Skipping within an object is almost invariably fatal, although there are larger gaps within this structure than most. Not releasing immediately may put you out of the transmission range of your suits.]]

"Not such a good way, then," I said, eyeing the nearest of the remaining Cutters, and watching with a fragment of my attention the stream of the third team, currently trying to force the main swarm back through their open hatch. "But I don’t think just leaving Silent and Imoenne here is an option, either. These things are patrolling."

"They respond to sound," Arlen said. "Perhaps if we throw a canister?"

"Primarily to sound," Silent said. "But Amelia says the consensus is that movement draws them too."

The third team finally managed to get their hatch shut, and retreated hastily into a nearby room, pulling the door closed.

"Hatch looks like it’s holding," Silent said, grimly. "You three better move on before that mob heads back here. Imoenne and I can make a break for our own hatch. If we shut it behind us—and then hole up in that possible shuttle we found—we should be fine. Even if the thing doesn’t work for an escape, we can lock ourselves in until someone wins this thing."

"You’ll never make it!" I protested.

"It’s a better chance than sitting here. If we wait until the other group move, or something distracts the ones immediately around us, it should be achievable. Though—" He hesitated. "It would help if we had the sled."

The end in sight, and it was time for the sprint. Giving the sled to Silent and Imoenne would drastically decrease our chance of winning, but we still had a chance if we stuck with slow and steady. I started to nod, repressed the pointless movement, and said: "Makes sense," at the same time as Arlen agreed.

"No."

Nina spoke the single word in a tone that brooked no argument, and I stared at her in dismay. Of course, she had no real stake in our gamer lives. Why would she abandon winning the System Challenge for people she barely knew?

Then she added: "I’ll head into the centre, distract them, you four shield up and get out of here. Our priority is avoiding permadeath, not chasing reputation."

I felt a rush of relief, but then another option occurred to me. "Dio, can we use the Boon to undo permadeath?"

[[_No._]]

"Damn. Alright, but it doesn’t make sense for you to be the distraction, Nina. We want the strongest shield on Silent and Imoenne."

"I will be the distraction," Arlen said, firmly.

"Arlen and I will be," I said, equally as firm. "As soon as you three are through the hatch, we can Evacuate."

"I want to argue, but I don’t think we have time," Silent said. "Let’s try to split this bubble into two groups."

With no way to be sure when the main group of creatures would return, or the handful remaining encounter our shield bubble, we planned as we divided ourselves into two groups, doing our best to make no rapid movements. Arlen and I placed our Renba a short way above us, gambling that no-one would set off the arcs of light again. The biggest danger moment was going to be when Nina, Silent and Imoenne first departed, and so Arlen and I next worked on a distraction mechanism, gathering used oxygen canisters from the sled and placing them just outside our shields.

"Ready?" Nina asked.

"As we’ll ever be," I replied.

"See you back at the ship, then," Silent said. "And…thanks."

Imoenne didn’t speak, but put her gloved hands together, fingers interlaced, and bowed over them. Then, like Silent and Nina, she released the magnetic field holding her boots in place and floated next to the sled.

"We launch," Arlen said, using a shield as a bat to hit the little floating cluster of canisters.

With a sound like a well-struck tennis serve, they shot into the open area Arlen had been aiming for. The Cutters nearest us immediately whipped after them, bounding off melted gelato pillars with, fortunately, no sign off setting off the light glow again. Nina, Silent and Imoenne started away, running at the sled’s lowest impel speed because this was an escape that would only work if it was done without drawing any attention.

I released safety mechanisms and opened my helmet, shuddering at the rush of heat and scent flooding into my suit. The air, moist and damp, had something of the metallic tang that accompanies rain, but also a sweet after note, as if the white formations really were some kind of melting ice cream. Arlen went one further than me and pulled his helmet off altogether. His short, beaded hair floated in amusing ways, and he looked excited rather than grim.

"We must wait, I think, and then make much noise," he murmured, taking deep breaths.

"At the first sign," I agreed. "Otherwise, they might rush past us at the only thing moving in here."

Speaking aloud felt strange, after so much careful silence, and I strained to make out whether the Cutters reacted to our voices. For the moment they seemed to be dealing with the oxygen canisters in much the same way kittens did balls of crumpled paper: sharp bats and pounces that appeared playful, but had a deadly meaning.

"Main horde’s heading back," Silent said. "Amelia can see it on the stream of that lot on the ceiling."

I did my best to lock my shield rock solid in preparation. I was inner shield, with the stronger Arlen as the outer. Neither of us would last for long, we knew.

"Time to shout and wave," I said, voice cracking. I felt sick enough to vomit, and telling myself this wasn’t real wasn’t helping.

"No, for you, put all you have to your shield," Arlen said. "This, this is a thing for me."

He had been breathing the metal-sweet air deeply, and now stood straight, head thrown slightly back, and ran through a full-throated scale of notes.

Digital music is ubiquitous, piped directly into our ears. The depth, the vibrancy, the sheer volume of a trained human voice is a shock whenever encountered, but particularly from a distance of less than half a metre. I jerked my attention hastily from Arlen’s face to the nearest Cutters as they slammed into Arlen’s shield.

Arlen didn’t flinch or falter, finishing running his scale, and then taking two slow breaths, studying glinting hooks scrabbling for purchase on the outer surface of his shield. Then, as the main wave of the things appeared between the nearest pillars, he took breath, and became unearthly.

I think I’d heard it before, in the way that choral music is often familiar. No doubt it had been the background to a scene in some movie, long notes of piercing clarity that rose ever-higher, tones of light and uplift and exaltation.

The effect on the Cutters was immediate. Those around us stopped scrabbling and dropped to the ground. Not stunned, as I thought for one wild, astonished moment, but as if they were evaluating a new development. The surging mass of the main force did not immediately check, but they slowed. Then the leading edge of them landed on Arlen’s shield, enough to create a dagger-edged blanket.

"Nearly there," Silent sent.

I saw through a gap in the sliding mass that the team that had stuck to the ceiling of the dome were also moving, but heading inward, taking the opportunity we’d provided to try for the memory core. Then Arlen’s shield collapsed, and the Cutters fell inward onto mine.

"Dio?"

[[Here.]]

"Reassure me."

A short burst of ter musical laughter came over the channel. [[You are most definitely about to die. But I promise that [Evacuate] works as described.]]

"Can you make it so that whatever happens to my body, after, isn’t streamed? I don’t want to ever have that in my head."

[[Yes, I can do that.]]

"Through," Nina sent.

"Evacuating on three, Arlen," I said, hoping that I could hold the shield that long, and immediately added: "One."

Arlen didn’t respond, his voice soaring once again, his eyes wide with delight.

"Two." I said it aloud this time, even though my throat felt like it had closed.

"Three."