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Chapter 8 – Quinn Cipher, Webwalker
🕑 Added 2024-09-13 00:42:40 +0000 UTC“Run faster!” Quinn shouted at the Aspirant that was lingering behind her.
“I’m trying!” the burly man named Greg replied as he huffed and puffed trying to keep up. “I’m built for sprints!”
Quinn’s Wayfinder - a sparrow named Valerie, chirped in with a peppy, female voice. “Welp! He is a goner. Just keep going! You are almost there.”
They had appeared on Velenar Prime, about four days’ travel away from the portal to The Cosmic Corridor. Quinn had found the large man sitting on a rock, taking the scenery just as she had at first. She had asked him if he wanted to team up, and he instantly agreed. Safety in numbers was the thought.
As Quinn rounded a corner she caught a glimpse of the massive portal. It was the size of a skyscraper, towering up into the black clouds above that poured out torrential rain. There were a few hundred people clustered around it, and they had erected a wooden fortification - spiked logs facing outward.
The growling and snarling behind her pushed her on faster. Her cybereyes were able to easily pick out the best path, and she did not slip once despite the mud and downpour. “Almost there!” Valerie said merrily. “Then you can relax for a few days.”
Time seemed to stretch on forever as Quinn outran certain death. The people in front of her manning the wooden stakes shouted at her.
“Come here!”
“The opening is on this side!”
“Weapons ready!”
She sprinted to where they were pointing, and found a trench lined with stakes, facing inward. “Dive!” one of them shouted, and she instinctively did so, army-crawling on her belly under the spiked barrier.
The creature behind her yelped and then the noises faded into the night. She was grabbed from the front by the arms and yanked out of the safe space. A man with a dashing, white crop of hair and soft, green eyes looked down at her. His skin was dark, slate grey, and he had two irises in each eye. “Glad you made it.”
Quinn stood up with the man’s help and looked down at her tattered clothes. “Thank you.”
Greg came crawling through the gap a moment later, huffing and puffing in the dirt. “That…was…too close.” He laid prone and rolled over as he chuckled. “I…almost died.” His pant legs had been torn away by the jaws of the creature that had almost caught him.
“Who are you?” Quinn asked the man who had helped her up.
“Mizarion, Tier 5 Ascendant.” he replied as he reached into a pouch on his well-adorned hip and removed a piece of round fruit. He took a bite of it and offered it to her, “Want some?” She could not tell what it was - but she was hungry.
She grabbed it and took a bite before recoiling in revulsion. “You eat raw lemons?”
“Weird,” Greg commented from the ground, still catching his breath. His Wayfinder, a large spider, crawled around on his shoulder and whispered to him. He just laid back and looked at the conversation occurring right above him.
“Earth food is tasty, and my taste buds are way different than yours.” Mizarion replied to Quinn as he took another bite. “So, three more days to survive. You can stay here with us if you want,” he hiked his thumb over his shoulder, “Or head to The Eternal City. Or heck, even Earth if you want. Just need to live another three days.”
“Why are you here?” Quinn asked, searching for his angle. “You must have a reason besides altruism.”
Mizarion chuckled, “I represent the Star Council. If you’re interested in making the universe a better place, we’re the faction for you. We send Ascendants and some of the Aspirants who have sworn to our cause - Signers is what we call them - to guard these portals. There’s other factions that try to kill off new Aspirants before they have a chance to even complete their Trial.”
“What if we want to be selfish?” Greg asked from the ground.
Mizarion shrugged, “There’s other factions besides mine.”
Quinn cleared her throat and Mizarion refocused his attention on her, “How do I spot them? These other Aspirants who might want to kill us.”
He smiled and spat out some of the seeds, “Anyone who looks like they worship oblivion. Black Hole Conclave. They want to feed everything in the universe to a giant singularity at the center of it all. Madmen. And women. They’re like cultists worshipping a god of annihilation.”
She nodded as activity picked up around her. Looking off where everyone else was looking, and using her enhanced, zoomed vision thanks to her installed optics, she spotted another figure running from out of the hills; a few of the creatures were tight on their tail. “Can’t you help him?”
“Well, we don’t interfere directly. Ascendants aren’t supposed to get involved in the Aspirant Trials. But…if you’re interested in our faction, I can give you a Quest that lets you help him out. Interested?”
“Nope,” Greg muttered as he finally got off the ground. He towered over Quinn and Mizarion. “I’m good.”
Quinn looked as the beasts continued to chase the man. She had only a sharpened stick, and those creatures were numerous. “No. I don’t think I can help.”
Mizarion chuckled and took another bite of the lemon. “Shame,” he said as he chewed on it. “But I don’t blame you.”
She turned to him and crossed her arms, “Three days longer, correct?”
“Aye, that’s right.”
“Well, I think I’ll head to this Eternal City then.”
“The Eternal City. Make sure you either say it fully or use the actual name. Khrox. Some of the residents dislike having their new home disrespected.” He shrugged. “Anyhow. Go into town and look around. Just be careful - you’re still fair game for any Aspirants for the other factions.”
Quinn stared down at the ground, the experimental microcomputer inside her brain enabling rapid calculations and risk analysis. “I’d rather stick around here. I’d be correct in assuming you could stop other factions from doing stuff to me, right?”
Mizarion nodded, “Aye. I am allowed to interact with people who have passed their Aspirant Trial. So, I can keep you safe from any Signers for the Black Hole Conclave.”
“That’s good,” Greg said. “I would hate to die before getting these powers I’ve heard about.”
Quinn looked around and spotted a circle of logs near tents. She went to sit, and this Mizarion fellow sat down next to her. She looked at him and took a photograph with her cybereyes, filing his name and the image away for reference. “What are the factions?” she asked as she looked over to the wooden structures erected for defense from the wildlife.
“The Star Council, my faction, is led by Star Dad. He’s like a father. Also, one of the few Tier 8 Ascendants. Anyways, we want to peacefully integrate new worlds into The Cosmic System but helm them towards positive ends.”
“Seems altruistic. What do you get out of it?” Greg asked as he joined the two.
Mizarion smirked and kicked his legs out in front of him as he snapped his fingers. Space distorted around his hand and a second later he was holding a bar of gold. “Resources. The Eternal City does not have raw resources. Worlds along The Cosmic Corridor do. That’s really what every faction wants. Resources to make things. The Star Council wants to help worlds become Type 1 Civilizations. Ever heard of that?”
Quinn accessed her miniature database and nodded, “Yeah, a scientist named Kardeshev came up with ranking a civilization based on their technological advancement.”
Mizarion snapped his fingers, “Precisely. Type 1 means that the planet is fully under control - everything being manipulatable. Anyways, the Star Council doesn’t just want raw resources like the rest - we want to help civilizations advance. Whether with magic or technology, or magitech - which is just a fancy way of saying ‘both’ types of advancement.”
He sighed and juggled the gold bar in his hand, “Then you have the Black Hole Conclave. They are our opposites. They want to take over new worlds and - over millennia - steer them into the singularity at the center of the universe. If you ever hear someone use the words ‘oblivion awaits,’ fight them or run…depending on their Tier.”
“Why doesn’t the Star Council just beat the shit out of them?” Greg asked. “Stop the problem before it spreads.”
Mizarion’s smile turned to a slight frown, “Their leader, Troxanir the Endless Hunger, is supposedly a Tier 9 Ascendant. A physical manifestation of the singularity at the center, if you believe such a thing is possible. Only Star Dad could take him on in a straight-up fight.” He shook his head, “Anyways. Then you have the Nebula Alliance. Folks all about trade and building up networks of exchange - but they sit at the top. Worlds they take over tend to turn into corporate hellscapes - like what Earth is angling towards.”
Quinn felt a sense of unease churn in her chest. “They willingly do that to people?”
“Aye. Then you have the Pulsar Coalition. They think of themselves as the defenders of The Cosmic System who really have problems with the Black Hole Conclave. Last is the Planetary Independence Pact. Ascendants who returned to their home world and kept the other factions from intervening. They just want their world to stay…mostly the same. We don’t have much issue with them.”
Quinn filed away every little bit of information into her database. “Just to make sure I’ve got this right. Ascendants can’t directly intervene in Aspirant Trials, but other Aspirants who have cleared the trial can.” Mizarion nodded, so she continued, “And sometimes these Aspirants are Signers for one of these six factions.”
“Well…” Mizarion trailed off as he looked up into the sky. “There’s rumored to be a seventh. I mean, we know there is a seventh faction out there - but the Ascendant at the top is completely unknown. We don’t even have a guess as to how many Ascendants form the faction. We call it the Dark Between Stars.”
Quinn followed his gaze, “What do they do?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. The few times I’ve heard of them interacting with any of the factions…they showed up at a pivotal moment. Not all the time, but sometimes when there’s a big conflict, they’ll show up and turn the tide.”
A super powerful, secret faction? How would a person even get into it?
>>>---<<<
Jace dug through the supply chest and found plenty of food. Airtight food that could last for two months. Two large canteens. A medical supply kit for travel. A bright, orange tarp-like cloth. A powerful flashlight-like stick that momentarily blinded Jace as he fiddled around to try and turn it on. A knife with a serrated back for cutting wood. A stick of flint for starting up fires.
“At least I’ll be set when I leave,” he muttered as he shut the chest and slowly shoved it into the living quarters, up next to the containers full of water. Oliver floated over his shoulder, providing plenty of light for him to work by.
“Gonna stay in here until the Trial is done?” the Wayfinder asked.
Jace nodded, “Three days. I have plenty of water and lots of food.” He glanced over at Oliver, “It’ll also give me time to rig up some basic feet.” He went back towards the supply closet that held the spare mechanical parts, and scanning through them he dug out a series of bits and ends. Good. There is enough scrap here for me to make something basic. He would not be sprinting, but it would be better than walking on stumps.
He sat down against the wall and set to shaping the bits and pieces of metal. It was softer than his belt knife, and he could cut through it with surprising ease. Must be the new muscle mass, he thought. “Oliver, what side effects could this serum stuff have?”
“It could be anything. But The Cosmic System would not give you a reward that harms you.”
Jace gestured to the now disabled flechette turret, “That begs to differ.”
Oliver looked up at the turret, and then back to Jace. “Well…”
Jace sighed and stared at the otter, “I don’t think you know as much about this System as you should. Can you go and ask someone how it works? I don’t want to be fumbling in the dark if you can shed some light on it.”
Oliver nodded. “Okay, I can do that.” He sounded quite sincere, and the disappointed tone Jace had been hearing up until he dragged himself up into the chair was gone. “Sorry,” the Wayfinder muttered.
You should be, Jace thought. But instead, he shrugged. I have to stay on his good side. He’s starting to warm up to me since I’m showing that I’m not useless and dying off the get-go like the rest of the Aspirants he has dealt with. “You didn’t know. Now find out…please.”
Oliver saluted with his little arm and vanished with a pop. Jace set to work with his knife and after a few hours took a break to eat one of the rations and drink some of the water. The rations were weird paste that tasted excellent. He devoured two of them before he felt full. Then, right back to work.
Hours passed, and he completed the first of two simple prosthetic feet. They were not articulated - just metal platform with a small rig that led to a cup-shaped spot for his stump to fit into. The cup shape was made from the weird bendable metal, so he was able to perfectly mold it to the stump. I can tie it on later, he thought as he looked at the metal scrap. The other foot tomorrow.
He went to the living quarters and laid down on one of the beds. It was firm at first, but then slowly softened as he sank into it.
There was a pop and Oliver floated above Jace with a satisfied look. “Okay. The goop you were injected with is not going to do anything bad. And apparently Hidden Location and Secret Cache Boons can have traps. So, we just have to be cautious with those two. The rest do not have danger.”
Jace smiled, “Thanks for checking. What did the goop do exactly?”
“Well, you are going to be physically at the peak of your health until you die, so major plus there. It increased your longevity - not to immortality levels, but a good twenty years. It cured any diseases, genetic disorders, and other maladies.” Oliver floated above him, staring down at him. “I’m sorry,” the Wayfinder stated. “Sorry for being a jaded prick earlier. Every Aspirant I have had failed before finishing the Trial. I figured you would be the same.”
“Happy to disappoint you,” Jace replied. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep a bit.”
Oliver nodded and vanished with a pop once more.
