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  System Launch

  Seeds of Lysium - 1

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark. The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dedication

  To my father, who never stopped pursuing his dreams.

  To my mother, who never stopped conquering her demons.

  To my grandmother, who advised I never take dreams into the grave.

  “Even the largest avalanche is triggered by small things.”

  Vernor Vinge

  Chapter One

  December 28th, 2103, 6 Hours Prior to System Launch, Neolando

  “I tried to get these for your birthdays’, but no go.” Ben Rothstein spoke to a half-circle comprised of his `younger siblings. Family dinner in the Rothstein household was a tradition that began before their father died. It remained so even after the quadruplets had moved out. None of them had moved far. Ben didn’t think family dinner was the reason. That closeness made the preparation of the pile of make-up presents much easier.

  David was the eldest quadruplet, by seven minutes as the others liked to remind him. Blue eyes tracked Ben with excitement that had become tempered in the years since their father was harvested. Of all five siblings, David most resembled their father in physical features. The most obvious things he’d inherited from their mother were thick hair and a shorter than average height.

  David’s shaggy hair shifted as he leaned forward. Neatly avoiding Leah’s probing elbow while he grabbed a package. “So what’s the- Oh holy shit!”

  Surprised at David’s reaction, the other three turned to the packages stacked in front of Ben. Ben, meanwhile, was looking at David. “That the right one? Check the top.”

  “Wha-oh right!” David turned the box, and saw the name. “Yep. Is this why you needed our biometrics?”

  “Yeah,” Ben rubbed the back of his head. Curly brown hair shuffled over his fingers as he did so. While he’d become vital to the Beta Integration Group by the end of its lifecycle, he’d still been a beta tester first and foremost. A test pilot for a cybernetic and digital VR system, but still ‘just’ the test pilot. Ben scanned the room with eyes as brown as good soil. His clearances and the trust extended, he mused, only went so far. “No way they’d let me take these units otherwise.”

  Not that any of that mattered now. His non-disclosure agreement on the entire project had expired three hours ago. He, like all the other Beta Integration team members, was ungagged and could speak about whatever he wanted. Leaning the lanky frame inherited from his father back into his chair, Ben watched the quads distribute the packages. It was a chaotic storm they’d perfected over the years and all four were holding the correct biometrically-locked SoL Kit by the end.

  “Is this what you were working on?” Rebecca, the youngest, gave Ben the perfect intro as she examined her Seeds of Lysium Kit. The tips of her nearly black hair brushed her shoulders as she shifted. Blue eyes in angular features canted up to meet Ben’s. Rebecca was, without contest, the shortest of the Rothstein children. “I know you couldn’t talk about it.”

  “Yes and no. I was with the beta testing side of things. Neuromuscular integration and REM integration primarily.”

  “Doing what?” It was his mother who asked the question. She’d been listening in over the bartop style counter that divided living room from kitchen.

  Their mother was, as usual, a contained whirlwind of activity. She’d shooed all five Rothstein children out of the kitchen upon their arrival. Every attempt to offer help was rebuffed with a stern gaze from dark brown eyes and an absent brushing of curly brown locks from her forehead. Ben spotted something on the stove, as well as a dataslate. Probably notes for her next article or three. Knowing he’d just have to repeat himself, Ben waited for her to stand ready with her stylus and dataslate before answering.

  “Mostly making sure things worked right. The devs would tweak something, or there’d be changes in other systems, and they’d need us to make sure things still worked properly.”

  “So I’ve heard it goes live tonight.” His mother asked, stylus skating across the dataslate to input data. Ben didn’t point out her shaking hands. He just nodded in acknowledgment. That was another piece of news he had to share. One he knew the family would appreciate.

  “The System Administrator Council reached a verdict yesterday. The system goes live at 8pm, 15 minutes after the announcement.”

  His mother’s stare was ice. “What was the verdict.”

  Ben realized he’d forgotten to mention that. “Sorry, got ahead of myself. The Pepedian Empire has been found guilty on all counts. Protectorate Retaliation will be enacted immediately after the announcement.”

  It was as though a great wind had scoured away an unseen stain. The air lightened perceptibly as the quadruplets examined the kits with renewed vigor. Ben’s mother looked at them with consideration. Ben anticipated her question.

  “I’ve got another on reserve for you mom. I’ll send you the address, if you want.” Her ‘yes’ was thick with something Ben didn’t try to decode. He sent her the confirmation and identification message using his pocket link. . She nodded stiffly in thanks.

  “You’ll need to let them synch the biometrics. Unless you want to try it manually?”

  She laughed. It wasn’t quite a happy sound, but it was better. “No, I’ll take the help. Thank you.”

  “So what’s the deal with all this?” Leah asked. Second eldest of the quads, her features were surprisingly mirrored to Rebecca’s, with lighter hair and their mother’s brown eyes. Leaning forward and putting her kit on the table, she met Ben’s eyes. The two darkest sets of brown eyes in the family met as Leah brushed her pixie cut light brown hair back from her face. Strong features, a curvy build, and model worthy height meant she drew plenty of amorous attention. She had driven off more than one overly aggressive suitor with a well timed threat over the years. So far as Ben knew she’d only had to carry through and punch someone twice. “What’s so special about this game?”

  Ben grinned. “It’s not a game. Well, not just a game. It’s also our interface for the Datanet.”

  “Gala
ctic or stellar?” Seth asked, his bright blue eyes lit with intrigue. Ducking Leah’s playful jab at his shoulder and dodging her follow-up attempt to pull his dark brown hair, Seth returned his attention to Ben. Angular, almost elfin features all but glowed with deep-set technical interest. Still, Ben knew Seth wasn’t just asking to satisfy his inner tech geek. Seth was the most devious of the quads, and the one their little quartet looked to for larger scale planning. It was something he and Ben had in common.

  “Both. It’s the dedicated interface. Complete with perceptive dilation.”

  That caught all their attention. Each race had a single dedicated Galactic interface. Other interfaces could be patched to work with the Galactic system to a degree. Such patches always lacked flexibility and access. And all the data Ben had seen said no race had ever successfully petitioned for a new interface. Regardless of the issues or problems, Seeds of Lysium was their Galactic Datanet interface now and forever.

  The defining trait of all of those interfaces was the perceptive dilation system. Ben understood the principle well. The system would extend one hour of real world time into three hours, so long as you were in the pod. One of the biggest advantages any race could accrue in interstellar politics was an advantage in perceptive dilation.

  Ben was excited, to be frank. Permanent access and interface with the Galactic Datanet would be a watershed moment. Ben intended to capitalize on it. He would secure futures for himself, his siblings and his mother.

  Chapter Two

  December 28th, 2103, 15 Minutes Prior to System Launch, Neolando

  “-unrestricted asymmetric cyber warfare, as encoded and implemented in Protectorate Retaliation subroutines and protocols. Furthermore, as reparations for genetic piracy, permissions shall-”

  Ben cut off the transmission at that point. He’d wanted to hear the official announcement. To know with certainty that this was happening. He didn’t need to hear the specifics of the charges and crimes against the Pepedian Star Empire. He looked at the photo on his desk once again. The last family picture they had with his father, when the quads were 10 and Ben was just turning 14.

  Six months later came the Final Harvest, The Jericho Line Incident, and First Contact with the Admin Council. A chain that birthed the realization that humanity wasn’t alone in the galaxy. Just stuck in the boonies.

  That fact of galactic astrography delayed things even as the millennia of stolen genetic code, and the resulting millennia of study, sped things up. By the time it was all said and done, the powers that be made a decision. They would coordinate the activation of the Seeds of Lysium Data Interface with the announcement of these results. That idea became a strategy, and was now being carried out. This announcement was the last piece. The formal permission to integrate Fog Goblins, representative of Pepedian cyber defenses, into Seeds of Lysium.

  With this announcement, Ben knew he’d be able to avenge dad’s harvesting. He knew the Rothsteins weren’t the only people, nor the only family, with that goal. Many sought to avenge a racial history rife with pillaging and loss. All wrought by gray skinned extraterrestrials so long relegated to myth and mockery.

  Bloodlust wasn’t the only thing on Ben’s mind at the moment. The VRMMO industry dated back to the early 2020s. It became more sophisticated, and the games more complicated, over the years. By this point the industry was an electronic sport. Tournaments and live streams, time trials and challenge runs, races and in-game events were all avidly streamed and obsessively watched. The advent of VR turned online gaming into an entertainment bonanza.

  Ben’s career stretched back to just after his 16th birthday. To two days after the UN released the information that humanity’s Galactic Datanet interface would be a VRMMO.

  He’d established some success in half a dozen other VR games. Owned small shops and helped manage small to medium sized guilds as their major domo. Led a Guild’s main forces during dungeon raids and guild wars. Established a reputation in player versus player tournaments. For the past three years, he’d made his name as the leader of Open Contract Workshop. He’d be leveraging that in Seeds of Lysium.

  His friends, companions, and rivals were largely from the VRMMO community. HIs siblings, Ben knew, became interested after countless birthdays and celebrations attended by Guildmates and PvP training partners. In college he organized, and participated in, school-wide raids and dungeon runs.

  He’d drawn attention for his skills not just in VR, but in backroom negotiations. His success as a major domo drew from that aptitude. He’d used that same aptitude to help settle fights over the uncomfortable necessity of brownout schedules. He’d defused two food riots by acquiring desperately needed nutrient supplies. He’d pushed through programs to increase photosynthetic biomass in and around Neolando. Politics, Ben had come to learn, was an intense and dangerous game. One he played with exceptional talent.

  It was all preparation for this day. When humanity would begin the long process of fully integrating with the Galactic Datanet. Gamification was a key aspect of the galactic-scale Datanet. It would take months, possibly years of gameplay to fully integrate. Still an advantage established now wou-

  A distinct pattern of beeps cut off Ben’s thoughts. Looking over at his VR mini-pod in panic, Ben felt his chest detonate in fear. His mini-pod was a solid, reliable model. One he’d used for three years already and had professionally checked out just last month. It shouldn’t be having a problem now. It shouldn’t!

  Lunging out of his seat, he scrambled to the system. To have a failure now would be disastrous.

  Time was an asset in these games, especially at the beginning of the game. Small advantages early could become absolute advantages later.

  Ben couldn’t afford a second’s delay. He’d spent too long planning and preparing for this!

  He checked it over quickly. All good, even the finicky nutrient feeders. Taking a deep breath, Ben began to steady himself. He could see the mini-pod, the steel gray walls of the room around him, his father’s photo on the desk, the metal sided cube of the desk itself, and a chair next to the desk. Could hear the buzz of the mini-pod’s systems, the whirling of air filters, the faint clatter of other people living their lives on either side of his room, and the indistinct sounds that could only be media broadcasts in those other apartments. He could feel the roughly spun fabric of his tunic, the weight of heat in the air, and the slight damp that his filters could never quite negate. He could smell the metallic tang of his apartment and the freshener he’d deployed to counter the smell - cinnamon according to the label. He could taste the fetid wet that said his filters would need replacing again, and soon..

  Looking at the interface screen before doing a more thorough check, Ben saw the cause. A system-wide notification.

  Seeds of Lysium Pre-Registration Now Open

  “Hell yeah!” Ben pumped a fist in excitement before popping the lid and sliding into the pod. It was time to wreck shit and get paid for it.

  It was one of his favorite pastimes.

  The system came alive with a white screen and blue letters. Glancing around showed Ben that it was a sail, and he was apparently floating in mid-air.

  Seeds of Lysium Pre-Registration. Interact to continue

  Ben flicked a finger, and the game instantly put him into the character creation system.

  First things first, Ben selected his name. He had a preference. Entering it, he smiled when he saw it was available. He selected the option to lock in the name, and then went on to consider his character. He knew what class he’d be playing, but he had 15 minutes. He’d take his time, for the stimulation if nothing more.

  At a glance he knew he’d be selecting feature scrambling. Not every VR game had the feature, but Seeds of Lysium did and Ben always preferred to use it.

  It’s algorithms were something he’d never bothered to try and understand. What Ben knew was they used math to analyze fac
ial features and construct a face that was mathematically similar in proportions, but visually distinct in features. The overall variance could be set by percentage. Ben set it to the max of 15% variance.

  The end result was a face that even his siblings wouldn’t recognize. The cheeks were too defined, the chin too broad, the nose too small for Ben’s own features. Yet the balance of features was neither more attractive, nor more hideous than Ben’s own. Ben saved the version for reference. He liked it, but no reason to settle on it immediately. Reperforming the scramble a few times, Ben decided on the first version.

  Moving on to class selection, Ben scanned over the options. First was one of the three major player archetypes. Merchants, Artisans, and Combatants. This was one of the most important decisions in a VRMMO, as it would color every choice that came afterwards. Even the classes he had available would be determined by the archetype selected.

  Most players would pick the archetype they specialized in or preferred to play. A decade of experience and preparation made Ben what the VR community called a Triple Threat. He had proven before he could handle all three archetypes. In Seeds of Lysium he would do so again. Which meant his choice of archetype was not dictated by specialty or preference, but by practicality.

  It was easier to integrate Merchant and Artisan mechanism and elements into a Combat class than it was to do the same in reverse. That in mind, Ben chose the Combatant Archetype.

  There were only six Base Combatant Classes. Rogue, Priest, Wizard, Spellsword, Warrior, and Berserker.

  Interesting that these are labeled as Base Classes, Ben thought. He did recall the development team talking about class changes.

  Still, Ben knew what he’d start as. It always was his class of choice.

  Ben selected Rogue. Glancing over the description, he noted that the class had a passive ability and an active one. The passive improved his chances to evade detection. The active, he was unsurprised to see, was Stealth.