In Search of the Uldans Read online

  In Search of the Uldans

  a novel

  by Vasily Mahanenko

  Galactogon

  Book#2

  Magic Dome Books

  In Search of the Uldans

  Galactogon, Book # 2

  Copyright © V. Mahanenko 2019

  Cover Art © V. Manyukhin 2019

  English translation copyright © Boris Smirnov 2019

  Editor: Barbara D. Jenkins

  Published by Magic Dome Books, 2019

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 978-80-7619-026-9

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the shop and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.

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  Table of Contents:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “What can I say?” drawled Galactogon’s owner. “The score is 8–0 in your favor.”

  He stepped away from the large screen displaying a room with two capsules and three bodies lying on the floor. In the image, the doors of the room burst open and a medical team rushed in to save the victims.

  “How do you do it? I simply cannot wrap my mind around it…”

  “I’ll repeat it for the hundredth time: Even when you push them to their limits, humans remain human,” said the President, rubbing his hands with a pleased expression. “When will you finally agree with me?”

  “Never. You’re just lucky when it comes to the people you find.”

  “But it was you who chose this couple, like the seven others earlier. And you were the one who came up with the script, worked out the backstory, and brought it all together. Eight out of eight—don’t you think that the problem lies not in people, but in your philosophy?”

  The mogul made no answer, nodding instead at the monitor and addressing a question to the dark corner of the room, “What about them? How are they?”

  “Subject ‘Eunice’ is alive. The bullets did not hit any vital organs,” came the reply from some invisible aide. “She is in a state of shock. The sequence of events involving Subject ‘Eunice’ unfolded in accordance to the plan. Subject ‘Alexis’ is alive, but in critical condition. The bullets fired by Constantine before the attack did not hit any vital…”

  “Before or after—what’s the difference?” the President interrupted the report. “Will he live or not?”

  “He requires a heart transplant, but he will live. The last bullet perforated the left ventricle. Currently, the medcapsule is supplying his brain and body with oxygen.”

  “Please, avoid any unnecessary details,” the President interrupted. “What do you need for the operation?”

  “Permission and money. Thirty million, according to preliminary estimates. Subject ‘Alexis’ needs his heart replaced. He will also need prosthetics for his arm and leg.”

  “We’ll assume that he won then,” the owner of Galactogon said, displeased. “The money shall be wired to the settlement account. Do everything you must to keep him alive…There are too many casualties as it is.”

  One of the doctors on the screen raised his hand to his ear, taking the call, nodded in agreement, and two medical teams surrounded Alexis Panzer.

  “What about our assassin?”

  “Severe wounds, fatal. We lost him.”

  “A fourth one down.” The President simpered as if the situation amused him. “Four of the warriors who agreed to participate in your play are already dead.”

  “Our play!”

  “No, Sergei, in yours. You saw the psychologists’ report: Alexis and Eunice have grown too immersed in virtual reality. They had reached the point of recklessness. When all the bridges were burned, this couple had nothing to lose. They—or he, it no longer matters—decided to become heroes. It happens. Accept it.”

  “I admit that I chose the wrong subject. The bond between this couple was too weak, not strong enough to take care of each other. You saw yourself that he did not consider what could happen to the girl. He saw only that he would lose the fight and his only thought was how to kill the shooter. We need something more powerful, something that will compel a person to submit to his basest instincts.”

  “You want to play again?”

  “Why not? Do we not have more subjects? There are three hundred in the project. I won’t only catch up to you—I’ll beat you yet, Maxwell.” Galactogon’s owner turned back to the dark corner. “Develop and implement a scenario that will extract this couple from the project. And without any unnecessary verbiage please. They are no longer of interest to us.”

  “And what is of interest?” The President arched an eyebrow.

  “I propose we consider our options. For instance, what would a mother do if she had to choose between her children? If she could choose which one was to die and which to live? As I recall, there are several suitable subjects for such a scenario in our project. Again, I wager that the mother would choose her firstborn. My data people tell me that firstborns are more loved.”

  “You don’t know people at all.” The President shook his head. “But I agree. I just saw you have a bottle of Maison Garlonde from the 2045 vintage. You can say goodbye to it because a loving mother would…But, hang on, let’s consider the other options too. Maternal instinct is too close to the most basic of instincts and the wager seems to me too dull and easy to predict.”

  “As you like. Anyway, it is your turn to choose.”

  Chapter One

  If you have ever been killed before—in real life, I mean—then you have my most sincere condolences. There is nothing pleasant about this procedure: It is frequently painful, unnerving and scary. Accordingly, if you are not partial to masochism, I recommend you avoid psychos and serial killers. Otherwise, my advice is grin and bear it and hope that if paradise awaits you after death, it will be like the one I’m currently in.
br />   The sun in this, my personal paradise, is always at its zenith, but you don’t have to worry about heatstroke or sunburn. Comfort here is paramount. I blinked blissfully, staring straight into the disk of hot light and savored the sea breeze along my skin. Warm, emerald waves lapped at my feet and tickled them like a playful girl. The sweet chirping of exotic birds behind me mixed with the surf to form a tranquil music. Everything around me dispelled any possible cares and submerged me in nirvana—which is what I concentrated on, letting my mind enjoy a moment of peace. In precisely ten seconds I will give myself a mental kick and remind myself that these are nothing but illusions, digital decorations, plastered upon the walls of the medical diagnostic center. In precisely ten seconds—and not a second more. I have to remember who I am and why I am here.

  My name is Alexis Panzer. I am a progamer who specializes in Galactogon, although at the moment, I’m in a therapeutic VR scene generated by my medical recovery capsule. The world around me is a projection created to deceive my mind. I have to feel whole and healthy. Only then, according to the doctors, can I recover from my surgeries.

  Three days have passed since I regained consciousness and found myself on this beach. Since then my physician has dropped in to visit me as well as to check in on my psychological recovery and discuss my physical condition. And, the physician pointed out, my physical condition was pretty poor. My battle with the final boss, Constantine, cost me an arm and a leg, literally, and then some: I needed a heart transplant, three synth-tissue patches on my lungs, and prosthetics for my arm and leg. There is still no prognosis and all my questions receive the same boilerplate answer: ‘Your current state is satisfactory.’

  But it’s the not knowing that hurts most. I don’t know how my struggle with Constantine ended, and I constantly ask myself: How did I end up in the capsule? How long was I unconscious? What happened with Eunice and our child? Every attempt to learn anything from the doctor ended in failure. Doc claimed he knew nothing and told me to shut up. I obediently kept quiet, followed his instructions and waited. The important thing was to live. I hadn’t the strength to do anything more.

  My eyes began to ache from staring at the sun for too long. Squinting, I brushed away the tears. The discomfort was pleasant, if only because it took my mind of my anxious thoughts. Suddenly I heard the rustle of sand, as if someone was walking along the strand, but I was not worried. My doctor always appeared like that, gradually, instead of materializing beside me so as not to scare me. Delighted by the company, I greeted him warmly without opening my eyes:

  “Guten Tag Herr Doktor! Buen dia! Buon giorno! I hope, Patient Panzer has managed to demonstrate a healthy spirit?”

  “And then some, in my view,” answered an unfamiliar voice. “But I lack the medical expertise to declare it with any authority.” I opened my eyes and tried to look at the stranger through the dark spots and the sun’s blinding rays. From my position on the sand, all I could make out were some expensive leather shoes.

  “Good afternoon, Alexis. It is extremely inconvenient to speak when you are in this position. Could you stand up please?”

  While I silently got up, my information-starved brain worked at a frantic pace. The doctor had always showed up casually: sandals, canvas shorts and a cheerful shirt covered in multi-colored pills like he was Dr. Mario, so as not to disturb me. This visitor though had appeared in his finest dress: A strict business suit, a leather case and name-brand accessories. Either this is a representative of the corporation’s legal department—people who tended to sleep in their suits and trousers—or he’s a junior detective who wants to frighten me. My intuition screamed that the second option was more likely, but my experience insisted that this man had some power behind him. His commanding demeanor did not suggest he was trying to make an impression on me.

  “Thank you. Have a seat.” An office table and two chairs materialized right there on the sand. The man took off his sunglasses, opened the suitcase and, undoing the bottom button of his jacket, sank into one of the chairs. While I silently occupied the other chair, he took out several sheets of paper from a suitcase and arranged them on the table in a neat pile.

  “My name is Reynard the Fox. My title and responsibilities do not matter at the moment. What is salient here is that I can help you resolve the difficult situation you find yourself in,” the man looked at me expectantly.

  “Could you explain what that situation is?” I asked. “I’m a little detached from reality at the moment, for reasons of health.”

  “I understand. The law enforcement investigation believes that you intentionally moved to a dwelling equipped with special security and hacking equipment. The owner of the house you rented has already been charged with illegal use of specialized equipment. You hacked the tracking system, tricked one of the competitors and killed him. Having made sure that Constantine was dead, you tried to get rid of Eunice, reckoning that she and her child were a burden. Thus, you faked an assault on yourself and falsified evidence in order to frame Constantine. This is currently the official theory of how the crime was committed. Do you have something to say?”

  “Are you insane?!” I jumped to my feet from the madness I’d just heard. “It didn’t happen that way at all! He was the one who threatened us with a gun. He shot Eunice in her legs and arms! He threatened to kill her and then bring the child to term inside of her like…like she was some kind of incubator! I did what I did because I feared for our lives!”

  “Please, take your seat! I understood you. The doctor does not want you to grow agitated. I agree that the official theory has some flaws. That is why I’m here. Tell me your version of events. According to official information, Constantine should have been in a coma under the supervision of doctors at the time of the crime, but instead he was found shot dead in your house. Cameras in the street have him coming to you independently and fully conscious. Is that so?”

  “It is,” I agreed, taking my seat again and with a hollow voice asked, “Are Eunice and the child still alive?”

  The sensible part of my mind quickly took hold of my emotions, isolating the important from what Reynard had said: ‘You tried to get rid of Eunice.’ This could mean different things.

  “They are alive indeed, but they are in intensive care. She has lost a great deal of blood and the child’s life is in danger. The doctors are doing everything they can, though Eunice’s life is not in danger.” These words took a great weight from my chest. “She is being maintained in a medically-induced coma and no one is allowed to see her. Consequently, you are the only witness in the investigation at the moment. Let’s return to the purpose of my visit. I’m listening to you.”

  Trying not to omit a single detail, I told Reynard about everything, starting with the exit from the game cocoon, Constantine’s appearance, his threats, the shooting, my desire to save my child—and me throwing the weight plate from my barbell. I had nothing to hide because I am a law-abiding citizen and was confident that the experts would draw the right conclusions. Thinking, I decided to add an important detail:

  “He jammed my smart home system, but he couldn’t know that mine occupied only half of our resources. Eunice had control over the other half. She could have recorded a video. Here is the access key to the system. Check it out.”

  Reynard nodded and disappeared into the air where he sat. A second later, his belongings disappeared along with his chair and table, leaving me sitting alone in the middle of the beach. I stroked the upholstery of my armrest and made sure that Reynard the Fox had not been a figment of my imagination. I felt a little bit of ease—my family was alive, so the rest was unimportant.

  Once more time turned to molasses. An hour passed, another, a third, but no one was in a hurry to drop the charges against me. In the end, I got up and, with almost Olympic calmness, returned to my main activity, swimming laps along the waves.

  Almost a day had elapsed before I finally received the long-awaited news. No matter how hard I tried to anticipate my guest’s
reappearance, Reynard managed to catch me off guard, materializing right beside me.

  “Good afternoon, Alexis. On behalf of the corporation and law enforcement, thank you for your cooperation. The incident has been fully reconstructed. There was indeed a video. All the charges against you have been dropped.”

  “Thank you,” I nodded, relieved.

  “Certain decisions have been made and I have been tasked with acquainting you with them. Sit down, this conversation will be long and difficult.”

  The desk and chair reappeared, once again recreating the seaside corporate office. I sat down in my old chair, which had remained after the last visit and therefore become my ‘seat of meditation’ over the last 24 hours.

  “Let’s get right to the point. In view of the circumstances, it was decided to terminate the scenario you were involved in ahead of schedule. This was done pursuant to clause thirteen of the contract you signed, the ‘Force majeure’ clause. You may reacquaint yourself with it if you like.” Reynard handed me the signed document and I read over the standard force majeure boilerplate.