Forgotten Quest (Book # 3): LitRPG Fantasy

By Max Rik

Immersion virtual reality doesn’t just exist, it thrives! Enter the world, filled with dragons, wizards and secrets. Game will exceed all expectations of fans.
You play your favorite online game, beware.
Playing in the forgotten chains of quest, our Hero opens access to characters and weapons that are no longer in the modern game. But is he ready for what awaits him?
Are you strong enough to step in the virtual world?
In his pursuit, Hero delves into the mysteries of secret Forgotten Quests. His goal is to complete every mission, learn all of the secrets, and master every ability. All he has to do is survive long enough.
It might be hero hardest challenge yet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Magic Dome Books
• Release date: Jun 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9785001165316

Book preview

Prologue

THE MAN STOOD at the edge of the cliff. A warrior, he wore plate armor and a scarlet-crested helm rested on his head. In his left hand, he held a round shield and a massive sword in the right. The broad, red cloak on his back fluttered like a banner in the wind.

Far below, waves lapped the stone. The man stood transfixed on the edge of a flat, stone slab, poised hundreds of yards above the sea. Castle walls adorned with lancet window towered behind him. Long ladders and arched bridges connected the countless towers. This place, the castle and the rock bed underneath it, was called the Skyfort. It was controlled by game magic, a magic nearly as ancient and powerful as the most fundamental laws of the virtual world. The Skyfort could go anywhere its few inhabitants desired. At the moment, though, there was no consensus among the rulers of this heavenly castle.

The armored warrior was one of the four living inhabitants of the Skyfort. All others were servants, guards, domestic beasts. NPCs, children of the software.

He was gazing intently at what was occurring ahead. The horizon was gone. Where the glassy surface of the water should have met the sky, something inconceivable was happening. Lines, spots, streaks, and blobs mixed and flowed together, broke apart and then reformed again. From time to time, strange silhouettes formed and straight lines appeared. Impossibly straight, the sort that weren’t found in nature. Spirals coiled and instantly scattered, becoming something paper-white, like little rips in the landscape. These tears in the universe were filled with the chaos of thousands of whirling dots. There was no end to this process. The four castle residents called it Fragmentation.

Scattering pebbles clattered behind the observer. He finally tore his gaze from the cosmic Fragmentation and spun around. A man and woman were casually making their way down to him from the rampart wall. She was lovely. Anyone in Alterra could design their character to be beautiful, but this young woman was devastatingly stunning. Her dazzlingly white dress, drawn in precisely selected spots with silver chains, showcased the elegance of her figure. Gems sparkled in her tresses, which created a beautiful frame for her face.

The man supported her down the steep slope. Rather, more accurately, he simply had his arm around her waist. And was trying to drop his hand just the slightest bit lower. He was the complete opposite of the lovely woman and the warrior. Where she was audaciously beautiful and the warrior in red was the embodiment of valor, the third man looked neither heroic nor handsome. Broad-shouldered and thick-set, with a noticeable paunch under his humble attire. He wore a dark mantle and, instead of a sword, a purse hung at his belt, just as rotund as its owner. An unpleasant smirk cut through his scraggly beard.

His palm slid along the woman’s white dress. She was smiling demurely.

Hey, you, take your paws off! That’s another man’s wife! the warrior growled. It was clear now that his contemplation on the Fragmentation had put him on edge and he was taking it out on the first person to turn up. I’ll get around to it... Look! It’s approaching.

The woman pursed her lips petulantly.

It’s hard to see from here. We should fly closer.

It’s too dangerous to get closer. Even for us, murmured the man who had come down the hill with the beautiful woman.

He hadn’t removed his hand but did shift it higher, back to her waist, and squinted at the formless jumble on the horizon. The smirk faded. He’d become serious, now.

You claimed to have found a way to stop it, the warrior subconsciously dropped his hand to his sword hilt. He had been playing in Alterra for so long, the motion was second nature. Well? What are your promises worth?

We need more souls for Alterra. It’s the only way to keep the Fragmentation at bay.

That’s what you said last time, too... Take your paws off her, I said!

Finally, the warrior had found an excuse to vent his anger. The sword slid from its scabbard and the warrior stepped toward his bearded opponent. His sword tip traced a curve in the air, creating a stream of bright radiance. The ray of light from the sword rushed toward the paunchy man. Who, as if expecting the attack, jingled the purse at his waist. A handful of coins shot into the air, surrounded the squat man like a dull halo, and the light emitted from the sword went out, trapped in the ring of little, golden discs.

Stop! sounded from nearby.

It had come from the fourth inhabitant, who appeared on the rock ledge from out of nowhere. He hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Lanky, lean, and wrapped from head to toe in a dark blue cape. His face was hidden behind a white mask with narrow slits for his eyes and mouth. The fat man stepped away from the woman. Oddly, the masked man’s tranquility held a greater sway than the warrior’s rage.

If we do not intervene in a more active manner, the Fragmentation will devour Alterra, the warrior muttered, his temper cooling. Zaratos promised us that he had found a way to stop the Fragmentation. But, as you can see, Alterra is unravelling.

I’ve found it, repeated the lumpish Zaratos. We need more souls. Many more. Astra, my dear, you’ll have to begin sending signs more often in your temples.

The woman made another face.

Me, again! Why must I always do the dirty work?

Because you are the kind goddess and the people turn to you most often. Kindness is dreadfully unprofitable, but someone has to be kind. And beautiful. It draws the players in scores.

That’s just it! They show up in my temples in crowds, but the sign is meant for only one viewer. For others, the effect is blurred. They don’t experience the full impact, but become witnesses. You said it yourself. This is dangerous.

Yes, I did say that. Omegas call it degeneration because they don’t understand. However, suspicions are already creeping around the ghetto and too many people are whispering about the degenerates. We should pick them up one by one, no witnesses.

What am I supposed to do, wait day and night by a crystal ball for a single temple visitor?

The squat man thoughtfully turned his head and tugged at his beard.

Then we need to alter the sign to obtain several souls at once. And add the algorithm to our temples, as well. We need more souls.

Then take care of it!

Of course, o fairest one. As soon as Gaerthron is clear of all players, we will be free to deal with the signs in the temples on Stoglav. Dealing with the outlanders was Ged’s task, but it seems that he is only so bold when he’s angry with me.

But we’ve gotten rid of the players on Gaerthron, the warrior objected. That old bastard, Eckerhart, is dead, and he posed the most dangerous threat. And even though he had a couple of flunkies hanging around...

Three, the most recent arrival, the one in the mask, interjected. The general is gone, but three others remain. And they are dangerous, Ged. Your Fiery War Hound was a strong fighter, was it not? Yet, even it failed.

That was a good hound, the warrior murmured. However, I believe none of the outlanders showed on Gaerthron yesterday.

Alright, the fat man recapitulated, Astra will continue sending out the signs. Faceless and I will also begin sending them out in our temples, just as soon as we can we can embed the appropriate scripts. But it’s not enough! Gentle Astra should be seen suffering outside of the temples. Think of a way to do it. Ged, we are trusting you with Gaerthron. You must track down the remaining outlanders. You do want to avenge your Hound, don’t you? Find the one who killed your doggy.

I will turn him to ash. Annihilate him. Right back to level one, the warrior muttered. He was still angry at Zaratos and would gladly drop the god of answers right back to level one before all else. Why are you ordering us about, anyway?

I’m not ordering. I’m providing the best possible answers to the questions we face. This is my task, for I am the god of answers, the fat man gave another crooked smirk. If you had attacked the outlanders on Gaerthron as decisively as you attacked me minutes ago, the matter would be resolved already.

Victorious Ged’s mobs are powerful. I did not want to bring them into play, but it seems that I must. Afterwards, I’ll introduce you to them. You listen to me, little man. If I see your paws where they shouldn’t be one more time, I’ll rip your arms from their sockets.

Zaratos gave an insolent smile.

Enough! the man with the mask finally raised his voice. Your squabbling makes you look ridiculous and pathetic. We have more serious matters. The Fragmentation is drawing nearer. If we’ve finished, then we should clear out of here.

The warrior remained on the precipice while the rest climbed the path back to the magnificent castle. Astra walked ahead, her wind-blown dress pressed flat against her body, and the men couldn’t pull their gaze from her sculpted figure.

Stop antagonizing him, the man in the mask hissed. Now is not the time for your jokes.

The fat man, troubled, pulled at his beard and muttered,

"No, no, let him get good and angry. He underestimates these players on Gaerthron. In fact, my temple was unsealed after we removed Eckerhart. Which means the threat remains. Can you imagine what will happen if this player completes all the temples? If he reaches the Hall of Oblivion or the smith? A new conflict with the AI, that’s what. And that’s something we can’t afford right now. The Fragmentation is advancing."

Alright, the masked man nodded. Maybe you’re right. Necta always seemed inconsequential. We underestimated her, too. Without her help, the players would never have been able to reach Gaerthron. She needs to be dealt with — either neutralize her or get rid of her presence altogether.

Oh, I’ve already thought of a fun little game. Remember the Undying Light?

Sounds familiar, the mask nodded again. It’s one of Vecta’s relics, right?

Right, that’s it. Vecta’s daylight relics are quite injurious to her nighttime incarnation. I’ve obtained the Undying Light, and all we have to do is use it deftly. If we’re lucky, we will force her out of the game. Without the Goddess’s help, the players will weaken and then even our Ged should be able to take care of this problem.

By the way, they didn’t show on Gaerthron yesterday, these... outlanders. What if they’re already dead? Omegas die quite often.

You also put too much hope on chance! No, we must stay alert. I hope that the loss of his Hound and my behavior today infuriated Ged enough to make him focus on catching the players on Gaerthron... To be honest, I’d also prefer it if they would just disappear and save us the trouble. However, something tells me that they’re alive.

From his place on the cliff, the warrior watched the trio with a frown. Then, an embossed bronze horn appeared in his hand. He brought the horn to his lips and blew, issuing a lengthy howl, and golden swarm of horsemen on winged pets soared over the castle. Their gold armor twinkled as they drew a final circle above the Skyfort and swept down over the waves of the endless sea. A long flight awaited them to the continent known as Gaerthron.

Chapter One. Don’t Turn Your Back

ALL OF US in the ghetto think New Atrium is such a bright, clean place. But, really, it’s just a bunch of dark, dank dungeons, Jack declared, hurrying after Sartorius.

It was through these very dark, dank dungeons they were walking now. Sartorius led the group with the flashlight, while Jack and Goodwin, who was gravely silent, followed behind. Light bounced over concrete walls and narrow archways covered with dark mold stains. The beam visibly trembled. Sartorius felt nervous and it was causing his hands to shake. Jack knew perfectly well that the alpha was no hero, and had utterly quailed when he’d agreed to bring them into New Atrium. So, deciding to cheer his companion up a little, Jack caught up with him and patted him on the shoulder.

Sartorius turned his head and looked at Jack from under the hood of his cloak.

I’m leading you through areas without sensors. Topside, obviously, everything looks different. It’s somewhat cleaner there, he said with a tight smile, but looked miserable all the same.

Then he added in a whisper, Who did you bring with you? We didn’t agree on two people. I barely had enough for the one chip.

We can trust him. Plus, he’s an alpha and his chip is in good condition. Don’t worry. As soon as I can get to the medical equipment in New Atrium and cure myself, we’ll return to Gaerthron. Continue on the Path of Theokrist. There’ll be plenty more abandoned temples, rekindled altars, vanquished monsters... well, and loot, of course. You’ll recoup your expenses, for sure.

To tell the truth, I’m not worried about the money, the alpha confessed. These people... to implant your chip...

Right! I can’t walk through the city without a chip, and that’s the only place I can recover. Dying in New Atrium’s underground is no better than croaking in the ghetto. So, whoever it is we’re going to meet, there’s no way around it.

You do understand, these are very dangerous types, Sartorius babbled. They deal in illegal business, risking their necks, and probably won’t observe any formalities. I don’t have anything to be afraid of until I pay them, seeing as I’m still a profitable client. They need me. As soon as I hand over that money, though, we all become dangerous witnesses.

Got it. Then we just won’t turn our backs on them.

Jack felt around in his pocket for his pistol, recently acquired from Brandt Ironfist. No big deal. He was no stranger to dealing with the kind of people you didn’t want at your back. They’re everywhere, even in New Atrium. That was why, as they had been hiding the scuba gear and unnecessary junk in a niche Sartorius pointed out, Jack had taken the gun and knife with him. Goodwin was more provident. He’d taken a rather hefty bundle and was now shuffling behind them, panting.

They’d already passed a decent stretch of the underground corridor. Occasionally, mud would squelch under their feet and some areas were flooded up to their ankles. Every now and then, droplets fell from the vaulted ceilings. Not only were there no sensors here, as Sartorius said. There was nothing here at all, except dirt and puddles of muddy water.

Hey, wait! Goodwin called from behind. Can you shine the light over here?

Sartorius sent the beam along the passage. Goodwin ran a hand over the wall and squinted at his fingers or, rather, at the dirt he’d scraped off the wet concrete.

Someone’s been here, and recently, he observed.

People live in the underground utility lines, Sartorius explained. Not many, just the outcasts who have no need to go the surface. Jack, I should have warned you earlier — your chip won’t be a proper chip. It’ll only fulfill some of its functions. You’ll be able to walk around the city without tripping the sensor alarms, but you won’t pass for a full alpha-citizen. The less you hang out in the open, the better. I know that, sometimes, omegas who make it into the city get this chip first, settle into a life here, then find a way to pay for the upgrade. I couldn’t haggle for more.

We’ll figure it out, Jack said. You’re too gloomy.

Well, we don’t have much farther to go. We’ll buy the chip, then I’ll take you to a safer place to rest.

What place?

Where a man named Mendez lives. We’ve known each other for a while. Bumped into each other in the sewers when I went down there with a repair crew. Ever since, I visit occasionally, bring him... well, just little things. He’s an okay guy. You’ll see.

And what kind of people will I meet on the surface? After I get my chip and go out in public? What should I say, so I don’t look like an outsider?

Usually, there aren’t too many people on the streets. New Atrium occupies a small area. Everything here is nearby, but alphas mostly use airships. Just think of it like this, you live in a residential suite on the fortieth floor and your club is on the fiftieth floor in a building two blocks away. It only takes a minute to fly, but going downstairs, walking over, then going back up? Well, that’s already a decent chunk of time spent. You can walk around New Atrium for a long time and see virtually no one.

Jack nodded. This city was nothing like he’d imagined. Not at all.

And what if, for example, someone calls out to me from a window?

Sartorius wanly smiled.

That happens often in the ghetto, I take it? People yelling out of windows at passers-by? No, the lower floors aren’t very populated. There are plenty apartments on the upper floors for the few alphas living here. Sometimes, huge buildings are taken out of use for preservation and nothing goes in except machinery... well, and communications staff. But that’s only if something urgent happens and it’s necessary for the staff to step in.

That’s you, I assume?

That’s right. Occasionally, I go into these empty buildings if they call me in for a malfunction. To omegas, we live a strange life here, Jack. As for you... No, the sensors and scanners present far more danger to you, and they are at every turn. This is where the fake chip will help you.

Another couple of turns and they arrived at a massive steel door. Sartorius handed the flashlight to Jack and, after digging in his pockets for a moment, produced a set of keys.

Everything here is simple, he explained, a minimum of electronics, maximum security. I got ahold of the keys used by the technicians responsible for the water intake system. Now, we’re going into the city proper.

The door opened with a screech to a staircase on the other side, and the alpha led them up. On the second level, there was another door. This one led to a corridor, but not the damp pit, like downstairs. It was dry here. Evenly spaced lamps burned on the ceiling, illuminating locked doors and branching passageways along each side of the hallway. And it reeked. The atmosphere below had been heavy and damp, but this level smelled more or less like the ghetto. This must be where the outcasts were squatting, Jack guessed.

Dirty footprints were visible on the floor and the walls were covered with inscriptions and drawings of ugly faces, strange figures, rallying slogans such as Praise the Gendemic, Burn Svetlograd, The Scribe’s stall is garbage and so on.

Sartorius turned the flashlight off and said, Now, follow me and be careful. Stop and wait where I tell you. I’ll go ahead. When I give the signal, run to me.

They did this twice. Sartorius would walk a couple dozen paces ahead, raise some kind of buzzing device over his head, then call for them. Jack and Goodwin would then run down the corridor. The old man explained to Jack that there were sensors and Sartorius’ machine caused interference. If he were to disconnect or damage the sensor, it would raise the alarm. A momentary disruption, though? Nothing unusual.

A couple of times, Jack saw movement in the side tunnels, but couldn’t make out who was moving around. They ran off in an instant. Finally, they came to another door. This one differed from the previous doors in that it had a peephole, a small window with cloudy glass. It was a very thick door, too, by the look of it.

We’re here, Sartorius announced and rapped his knuckles on the thick, steel door.

The sound boomed throughout the corridor.

Otherwise, they might not hear, the alpha explained. They may well both be hanging out in Alterra. They’re necromancers. That’s how I met these people.

Something moved with a scrape behind the door, heavy footsteps sounded, and Sartorius quickly added, The big guy is Douglas, the small on is Sal. Jack, do you remember what I warned you about?

Jack nodded and Sartorius stood in front of the peephole, so that the dungeon inhabitants could see him. Looked like this place had its own set of rules, and they were rather strict. The lock clicked and the door opened a crack. Well, big Douglas really was big. Huge, actually. He was a beefy guy and wore a sleeveless leather vest that displayed muscular arms covered in tattoos of interlaced snakes. The snake heads were drawn on his chest, jaws open. Douglas’s bald pate gleamed in the lamplight of the brightly lit room behind him. Someone like him wouldn’t look out of place on the other side of the East River. He looked like a native resident of the ghetto. Jack had pictured alphas very differently...

Small eyes examined the newcomers intently from under thick eyebrows.

Sart, you said there’d only be one client, Douglas’s deep voice boomed.

The second’s going to sit quietly in the corner. He’s not a client, Sartorius replied, Can we come in?

Only if you have the panbucks with you.

Yes, I’ve got it. Let us in!

Sartorius was trying to remain confident, but Douglas was clearly wary. It was visible in his every gesture.

Alright, come in, the giant stepped aside, admitting the guests.

Jack was surprised by the contents of the room. He’d never seen so many kinds of electronics all in one place. There were piles of hardware here, some of it familiar, some not. Stacks of boxes formed a wall that partitioned the room. He only recognized the console boxes, the kind they shipped from New Atrium in consignment containers. All the rest were marked with an unknown brand and the name didn’t mean anything to Jack. To the left was a table littered with junk: bundles of cables, plugs, switches, circuit boards. And a large bowl filled with cigarette butts. They smoked a lot here — dozens of ceiling lamps glowed through the cloud of smoke hovering in the air. Another chaotic mess of electronics like the one on the table covered the entire floor, forcing them to step carefully over the particularly large heaps. One entire wall was covered with monitors. Most were dark, but a few displayed different images, such as underground corridors and empty rooms. Three showed pictures of the surface. Jack saw the nighttime streets of New Atrium, flooded with multicolored shafts of light from windows. Above it all, chains of airship lights glided between towering skyscrapers...

The second occupant emerged from somewhere behind the boxes. Douglas’s polar opposite. This man was shaggy, small, and rail-thin, wearing an oversized, floor-length robe. Perhaps, at one time, the robe had been white, perhaps not. At this point, it was impossible to tell. Half of Sal’s face was hidden under a strange contraption held up by a hoop wrapped around his head and fitted with a pair of glinting, iridescent lenses, somewhat like eyeglass lenses. Sal looked at the visitors through them.

The second guy will sit in the corner, you say? he began in a businesslike manner. Well, here you go, there’s a chair. Sit down and don’t get underfoot while we work.

He nodded to Jack, pointing to a chair.

I’m the client, he explained.

It was easy to guess Sal’s thoughts. He’d figured that the chip was for old Goodwin, and Jack was just the muscle. A big guy to make himself feel confident. Very much in the spirit of the ghetto. So, practices here in the lower city were the same. Goodwin sat silently in the corner.

Douglas turned to Sartorius, Show us the panbucks, then we’ll start.

The alpha rustled the waterproof fabric as he unbuttoned his cloak. To Jack eyes, he was too flustered.

It’s all here, Douglas rumbled and Sal sat at the table.

He grabbed a smoldering cigarette butt, took a drag, groped for a keyboard under the junk and began clicking keys. One of the black monitors in front of them switched on. The screen flooded with blue light and a red signal light flashed in the middle. Jack, interested, looked at it with curiosity. He’d never seen one before. All the while, though, he surreptitiously kept an eye Douglas, as he seemed to be the more dangerous of the two. But he was still, also staring at the screen.

The red signal light turned green, then a picture of a large room appeared. In it, a narrow face framed by a thin, black beard loomed. Huh, it was the Lahitte khan, Tevis! Well, it was a real person with the same face, the owner of the in-game character. How about that? Tevis, the great warrior, the storm of the steppe, was involved in hustling counterfeit chips.

Behind Tevis were white walls and an amazingly pure white floor. The table, the strange gizmos — all of it dazzlingly white. Jack had only seen so much pure white inside Alterra. The real world always found a way to stain any whiteness and disrupt any clean lines. Jack thought he could make out the shape of a motionless body under a white sheet on the table. Well, the boots sticking out from under the sheet completed the picture. And sure as shit, they were white, too. What the hell was this?

How you doing, Tev? Ready? Douglas asked, leaning towards the monitor.

Jack figured out that there was a video camera transmitting an image to Tevis and, to be safe, took a step back. Even though Khan Tevis hadn’t seen his face in virt when they’d met, it was best if he didn’t see him now.

I’m good, Tevis jabbed his thumb behind himself. This alpha’s grieving loved ones already said their last goodbyes. I can begin as soon as you give the go-ahead.

Is he reliable? Do you trust him? Goodwin said from the corner. He didn’t care for Tevis, for some reason.

No one more reliable, Sal grinned at Goodwin Half his face was smiling, the eyepiece covering the other half glinted impassively and created a wholly unpleasant effect. He’s safe. Plus, he gets a cut. A fair share of it, let me tell you.

It finally dawned on Jack. Tevis himself had once gotten a chip this way! He’d been born an omega, made it across the Barrier, gotten a chip, and now worked... well, as a funeral director. He recovered chips from dead alphas. Now it made sense why he played a Lahitte in Alterra. When he was young, he hadn’t had enough panbucks for a Scand. And now he was doing his damnedest to prove he was as good as any alpha born in New Atrium.

Of course he was reliable. His own heritage was a secret. While Jack had been speculating about Tevis’ origins, Douglas had demanded payment. Sartorius began laying panbucks on the table and Sal counted. Meanwhile, Tevis went to the table, folded the sheet back from the dead man’s arm, and pressed something like a syringe to the pale skin. Snap! Tevis brought his head up to examine the instrument in the light.

Is that a disinfectant in that syringe? Goodwin asked.

Mmhmm, you got it, pops, Sal murmured.

His hands flashed as he counted the bills. Tevis disappeared from the screen, somewhere out of the camera’s line of sight. Then he appeared again and went to work on the table with the dead man. The table scooted slowly away, and Tevis raised a remote control and the screen went dark. Something in the wall clicked resonantly. Douglas reached across the table, opened a round hatch, and withdrew a flask with a greenish solution.

Here’s your entry ticket into the delightful world of New Atrium, client. Sal?

Yeah, everything’s in order.

Four-eyes put the money away and swept the junk from the table. He hauled a flat, metal box onto the tabletop, opened it, and emptied the flask contents. Tools materialized in his hands, tipped with ultrathin needles no wider than a hair, and Sal’s lenses came to life. With an unpleasant grinding sound, they moved forward on telescopic attachments. Sal began working his magic over the miniscule chip, poking it with the needles, their tips glistening.

Don’t fall asleep on me, client. Give me your arm. We’re going to make an alpha of you, Douglas grinned. My partner is blocking the identity nodes. You’ll be an alpha-citizen without the right to property, social services, and other fun perks. You’ll be poor, but honest.

Honest. Hardly, Jack warned. What can I do with this chip?

Sensors won’t react to you. You’ll be able to wander around the city, wherever your fancy takes you. Best not to get too close to the Barrier. It has its own security system, and no one knows how it’ll react. Otherwise, New Atrium is your oyster. But not just yet. In twelve hours. The chip needs time to adjust to your biometrics. So, hide out for half a day and then...

Got it, got it, Sartorius interrupted. Well, can you implant it now? Sal, are you finished?

So far, the alpha had kept silent, sweating, wan, and barely breathing. He had been incredibly anxious, then. Now, he couldn’t stand it anymore and was eager to finish it, to get out. Restlessness is no good... particularly around people you didn’t trust.

Jack took his time rolling his sleeve up, still wet from their swim in the East River, and extended his left arm. The left specifically to leave the right hand free to grip the pistol. It was simply instinct. When something significant was about to happen, his body reacted without any direction from his brain.

Sal had already switched instruments and now held a syringe. Probably the one Tevis had used. Jack immediately noticed that the solution was a different color, but had no chance to ask. The small man worked quick as lightning, his extensive practice evident. He seized Jack’s arm and pulled it closer. The lenses over his eye moved again, grinding... Jack felt a slight prick.

All done, Sal announced. "But there is one thing. Doug?"

Price’s gone up, Douglas continued. Sart, it’s going to be another five thousand. Job’s done, time to pay up.

Jack sensed a sudden weakness wash over him. Everything had been so unusual, that he’d actually forgotten about his illness. That’s why he hadn’t paid attention to the chill rippling through his gut, his body’s way of warning of danger nearby. It was a mistake. His legs felt like rubber and his arms were heavy as lead... Damned runt had injected him with something... with the chip... Bastard, even his thoughts were moving slower.

I don’t have any more, Sartorius babbled.

He took a step back, but there was nowhere to retreat in the cluttered room. Sartorius pressed his back to the pyramid of console boxes.

Let’s just see, Douglas stood over Sartorius, who had finally lost all his nerve. An emitter gleamed in Douglas’s hand. Empty your pockets. Slowly. Then take off your cloak and we’ll take a peek at what’s under there. If you really don’t have any more cash, I’m willing to take whatever I can find. I’m sure a couple of respectable boys, like yourselves, have plenty of nice toys in your pockets. Slowly, I said! And don’t look at our client. Sal gave him a sedative, so he’s going to sit this one out.

Sartorius, who had already thrust his hand into his pocket, flinched. He did,