Missing Stars

Chapter 4 | Before

Chapter 4 | Before

A stab of pain pricks my back and a moment later, a flash of red light blinds my eyes. Sensing danger, my cybernetic chip comes to life. The dancers are shouting, fleeing away from us in panic. I reach for the hairpin holding my curls in place and drop it on the floor.

And then a resounding blast rings in my ears.

Alex slackens his grip on me, coughing as thick clouds of grey smoke envelop the air. I wrestle free and rush into the crowd. My exo-vision awakens, allowing me to see through the blinding smoke. It does so much more. In two seconds, a transparent window appears at the bottom left of my view, showing me an extensive map of the spaceship.

I duck into a pillar and release a breath. My fingers come away with blood when I touch the place where Alex shot me. I only have one bio-salve in my inventory. I can’t use it yet. Not when half of my health pulse is still intact.

The briefing has gone to shit. I don’t know why Alex shot me but I need to escape this place before the game is over. I glance at the people jostling on the gangway, rushing towards the elevator. My cybernetic chip now tells me there are only five real people in the hall including me. Stupid NPCs. I count Mwangi, Alex and me. The remaining two must be the rest of the Tricksters.

I enlarge the map, zooming on the two doors I saw when I came in. The one with the signboard opens to a kitchen—a death trap considering there are no other exits apart from the large window facing Mars. I’d rather die the hard way than plunge myself into space. The door behind the tapestry is locked. I spot the escape chute across the hall.

Mwangi stands behind the table, arms folded across his chest. Even though he can’t see me, my stomach lurches. With Mwangi standing between me and the escape chute, I have no other choice but to go for the elevator.       

Twin ocular rings glow yellow in the grey smoke. Alex is aiming a laser beam at my head. I dive away from the pillar just in time. The plasma bolt smashes through it, spraying debris in every direction.  

I launch into a sprint, darting between the couch and a grand piano.

So Alex is like me: a Seeker. Seekers unleash hits with maximum damage, have access to weapons with the best stats, and are endowed with the highest agility and speed. But the one major combat advantage Seekers have to the other classes is the exo-vision, the ability to see through walls, illusions and other visual obstructions. The exo-vision has a disadvantage though. The luminescent rings in our eyes give us away, especially when hiding in the dark. 

“What the hell’s going on here?” I ask, checking my health pulse on the top left of my view. I am hiding behind an undamaged pillar.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Alex says. His voices comes from somewhere to my right. “This is the test. If you can last for fifteen minutes against us, you win.”

Fifteen minutes? Either they’re too confident in their skills or they’re underestimating me. I’ve fought Seekers at level ninety, hunted rare alien monsters in the Casma asteroid belt and escaped from an army of vicious Paragons with only a half-charged pulse rifle. I can do this. I’ll prove to them I am worthy of their team.

“Ten minutes, dude,” someone corrects him. His accent is thick, middle-eastern. It reminds me of Mr. Omar from school, our AI Studies teacher.

“Not bad for a level eighty Seeker,” a girl says, her voice ricocheting off the walls. “Let’s see how long she’ll survive.”

I’ve heard of her. Eva. The only Medic among the Tricksters. I can’t imagine how she managed to pass one of their tests. The Medic class is the weakest in Scepter. She must be just as dangerous as the rest of them otherwise Mwangi wouldn’t have her in his team.

A frown crimps my face. I failed to identify them in the party. I let Alex fool me with his charm. The stark realization feels like a slap in the face. They’re not the ones underestimating me. I am the one who misjudged them.

Standing up, I run towards the elevator, my feet thudding against the gangway. Footsteps pound behind me. I don’t stop and I don’t look over my shoulder. A plasma shot whizzes past me, grazing my right arm. Ignoring the faint throb of pain, I swerve to the left, my heartbeats loud against my ears.

I am two paces away when a bullet hits my left leg. I stumble forward, falling headfast into the elevator. I flail my hands in a desperate attempt to stop the fall. My fingers grab on to the hand rail. My knees knock against the floor but I’ve spared myself the humiliation.

Reaching for the operating panel, I push two buttons. I catch a glimpse of a man running towards me right before the door closes. His olive skin is dark against the amber lights on the ceiling and a volto mask hides his expression. It’s the waiter.

Shit.     

Who’s Eva? The woman who bumped into me? This must feel like a game to them. I see now why they call themselves the Tricksters.

My leg is bleeding, spots of blood staining my dress. My health pulse has dropped to a quarter. If I sustain any further injuries, I’ll die and I’ll never get another chance at winning the test.

A 3-D hologram of my control panel appears in front of me. I click on the red cross icon and in a heartbeat, a tube of bio-salve floats behind the holo. I apply the balm on my wounds, relived that my health pulse is steadily increasing.

I take a quick look at my weapons inventory. One explosive grenade, a military knife and my beloved semi-auto pulse guns. I equip them all. The hairpin costs a fortune but it’s worth every geld I paid. Alex never suspected it was actually a smoke bomb with a sonic blaster until it was too late.

The elevator jolts then slams to a sudden halt. I am on the eighth level of the spaceship, six floors below the dance hall. The door slides open and a shroud of darkness greets me. I activate my exo-vision.

The eighth level appears to be a cargo hold. There are huge shipping containers packed in neat rows, steel cases herded behind metal grates and rusty cages pushed to a corner.

A ding sound echoes from the elevator. I hide behind a container, my pulse guns held at the ready. I know they’re going to find me but I won’t go down without a fight.

The cargo hold is suddenly awash with interspersed pools of red and white lights. They must be looking for me.     

“Looks like Alex almost had you there,” the waiter says. His voice is forty paces away from me to my left. “Too bad you didn’t fall for my trick.”

“What trick?” I ask, sneaking towards the adjacent container.

I can see an outline of him marked orange by my exo-vision. The other outline belongs to Eva who’s trailing close behind him. She doesn’t look like the woman who spilled my drink. Eva’s dress falls in layers. I didn’t even notice her at the party. Mwangi and Alex are nowhere in sight and that worries me.

“The drink. It’s poisoned.”

“You're playing dirty.” I sheathe one of my pulse guns.

The waiter grunts. “This is our turf. We make the rules.”

Thirty paces. Twenty five paces. I am getting closer to them, my footfalls silent as the shadows. Twenty paces away. I can now see them without the aid of my exo-vision. I turn it off and take out the last bomb I have in my inventory. My thumb finds the safety button, pressing it.

Moving out of my hiding spot, I throw the bomb at the Tricksters.

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Sorry for the late update. On the plus side, this chapter is extra long! I hope you enjoy it.

For the non-gamers, NPCs means non-playable characters.