The pony rover rolled through the undulating terrain of the the Avlid Desert, its sturdy wheels effortlessly traversing the alien landscape. As Jeanne gazed at her surroundings, she pondered yet again why this verdant area was called a desert.
Vegetation blanketed the landscape, with bright green bushes adorning the foot of nearly every hill. Clusters of tall, alien plants frequently obstructed their path, requiring detours. The scene before her was far from the barren wasteland the name suggested.
"A desert!" Jeanne mused silently. "Now Kazakh Autonomous Prefecture—that's where you'd find a real desert. But this... this is almost pleasant."
While not conventionally beautiful, the panorama was undeniably otherworldly. Every bush, every blade of grass, even the very shape of the hills and rocks seemed to whisper, "Yes, Jeanne Chou, you are on another planet, light-years away from Earth."
As she assessed the alien terrain, the unfamiliar scents and sounds of this uncharted world triggering her senses, Jeanne recalled her mentor's words from the colonist training center:
"The algorithm for colonizing a planet can be summed up in four actions: explore, expand, and exploit." He had paused then, his gaze sweeping across the attentive students.
Jeanne, ever eager, had been the first to speak up. "And the fourth action?"
A knowing smile had played on the mentor's lips. "I was waiting for you to ask. The fourth action is tied to the previous three: destroy anything that gets in the way of the first three actions."
"Of course," Jeanne had agreed, her mind already racing with possibilities.
"But remember," the mentor had cautioned, raising a finger for emphasis, "without learning, expanding, and exploiting, destruction loses its purpose."
Now, in her first hours on Locus, Jeanne found herself forced to engage not only in that fourth, destructive action but also in the crucial task of exploration. Her survival—and the success of the subsequent expansion and exploitation—hinged on these initial steps.
Jeanne's mind flashed back to grueling simulations and high-stakes scenario training, preparing colonists like her for the unexpected challenges of alien worlds. The training program had covered combat situations using the advanced technologies available for construction and production on Explora's planets. The possibility of rebirth after death had fundamentally altered classical notions of warfare.
However, a recent skirmish with enigmatic slave bandits had confirmed an age-old rule: no matter how thorough the training, reality would always present unforeseen challenges. This unpredictability was why the primary attribute of a combat-class colonist wasn't knowledge, but adaptability—the ability to act decisively in the face of the unknown.
Jeanne clung to this thought, using it to quell her growing unease. After all, embarking on a reconnaissance mission without registering in BATS was a significant risk. If her body were to perish, the binary array of her consciousness would remain trapped within, vulnerable until either the orgmat depleted entirely or someone discovered her body and facilitated its transfer to the server.
Given her recent encounters with the locusians, Jeanne knew better than to count on altruistic assistance. More disconcertingly, the native inhabitants had acquired devices capable of extracting orgmat from other bodies.
Yes, venturing out on a scouting mission in such a vulnerable state was imprudent. But remaining at the base, ignorant of their surroundings, would have been even more foolhardy.
Benny Shostakov's reluctance to share his map only fueled Jeanne's suspicion that he had omitted crucial details. She couldn't trust that map blindly.
After covering four kilometers from the base, Jeanne veered right, beginning a spiraling path back toward their stronghold. As she traveled, she embraced her role as a scout, tapping into the pony rover's systems to deploy unmanned reconnaissance vehicles.
A seasoned scout like Trevor would have installed the Coordinator phenom, granting instant access to real-time data from the drones. He would have surveyed the surface across various spectra, searching for valuable minerals while creating a detailed topographic map. His phenom would have served as a relay hub, extending the communication range for the entire group of colonists beyond the limitations of their data modules.
And perhaps most importantly, Trevor could have embraced Jeanne, whispering, "I'm glad we're finally together."
Having lived a long and fulfilling life as a police SWAT major, Jeanne understood that love resided in the mind, not in hormones. Her artificial body lacked human biochemistry, yet love persisted. No phenom or UniCom connectors were necessary for that most human of emotions.
With a sigh, Jeanne ordered a single drone to take flight, conserving the precious orgmat of the second. As the drone ascended, she focused on the onboard computer screen, watching the transmitted feed intently. Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes, nearly capsizing the pony rover.
The drone's camera had captured unmistakable evidence: the rectangular roof of a vehicle, concealed behind a hill six hundred meters away.
Jeanne hastily recalled the drone, praying it hadn't been detected.
"What now?" she pondered, weighing her options. "Return to base or investigate these unknown synthesans?"
Her experiences thus far suggested that locusians fell into two categories: bandits and smartass opportunists. Both posed a threat to Jeanne and Ron.
Jeanne released the steering wheel and stepped out of the pony rover.
Jeanne left the pony rover and moved toward the unfamiliar vehicle on the other side of the hill. The strangers might have tracking systems, or high attributes in Hearing and Sight. Though the pony rover's engine was silent, the rustling of wheels on grass couldn't be hidden, nor could it mask the digital noise from its various locators.
Thanks to her Assassin phenom, Jeanne covered 500 meters in under two minutes. The interface showed she was running at about 22 kilometers per hour—not mind-blowing, but respectable, especially considering the uphill terrain. She could have gone faster, but that would have increased her orgmat consumption, which was already running low.
Synthetic body fatigue set in, accompanied by an interface warning and a feeling of weakness. Her legs grew unruly, staggering between running and stepping. Jeanne's breathing quickened as the synthesan muscle fibers demanded more oxygen to strengthen the orgmat bonds.
Reaching the hilltop, she collapsed into the grass. After a few seconds, the fatigue dissipated. Pushing the grass apart, Jeanne crawled to the crest, pulling her automatic rifle close and peering through the scope.
At the hill's base stood a cargo van, clearly built with Locusian technology—cheap materials formed its rust-brown, wrinkled body, as if it had just tumbled down the slope.
A man with a shotgun slung over his shoulder stood motionless beside the van. Surprisingly, he wasn't wearing a UniCom, instead dressed in crude, shapeless attire that resembled weathered cardboard.
Have the Locusians become so impoverished? Jeanne mused. The shotguns look new, though. Firearms usually indicate some level of affluence.
When the man turned to face her, Jeanne stifled a gasp. The stranger's face was frozen in an unnerving, perpetual grin—lips stretched wide in a mask-like expression that never wavered.
Why are you grinning? Jeanne thought.
She watched the smiling stranger in cardboard pajamas for almost a minute, but he never once closed his lips. They were still stretched out in an eerie, motionless grin.
Okay, buddy, I definitely don't like you.
Unsettled, Jeanne commanded the interface to connect to her rifle. This unique weapon, part of the Assassin phenom, came with its own set of specifications:
— Assassin's Breed —
Energy automatic rifle.
Manufacturer: Labsetec.
Magazine: 300 energy rounds.
UniCom Connect: 2 connectors (arm+arm).
Sighted Guardian.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Assassin's Breed will use your Digital Transmission Module to scan your surroundings, identifying potential targets. When targets are confirmed, a sequence of hand and body movements will be created by the shooter to hit them all in the least amount of time.
Range depends on the data module.
Orgmat consumption: 12 units per second of use.
One-shot.
The rifle is designed to release many energy charges in one shot.
Three modes are available: 10, 20, 30 charges.
Current mode: 10 charges.
Warning, firing more than 20 energy charges at close range is dangerous for the shooter. Make sure that the distance to the target is at least ten meters. It is not recommended to use this mode in closed rooms.
Orgmat consumption: 2 units per second of use.
The Real One-shot.
The entire magazine (300 energy rounds) is released in one shot.
Attention, use of this mode is destructive to the rifle's structure. Predicted durability drop after each real vanshot: more than 50%.
Use at your own risk. Labsetec Corporation is not responsible for your actions.
Did you know that after you upgrade your attributes, new rifle modes will be unlocked?
Read more about the new modes >>
For herself Jeanne called this mode “kamikaze's last hope”. After all, if the rifle can withstand the first, real van-shot, then after the second one it will probably explode, killing the shooter.
Attention, to use some modes of the rifle, you need a phenom “Assassin”. You have one.
Jeanne went back to following the smiling stranger.
The faces of synthesans were certainly different from those of real people. At least in that they were always smoother and prettier.
But as soon as a copy of the NPC binary array from the game was written into the synthesan's brain, the puppet face was transformed. After all, the NPCs possessed some conditional patterns of emotional behavior copied from humans. They smiled when they recognized jokes, or frowned if the response algorithm demanded it.
Before her arrival on Locus, Jeanne hadn't known what synthesans with human consciousness looked like. On Earth, operations to transfer a human binary array into a synthesan body were forbidden. All laboratories for developing synthesan bodies were located on the Moon, making it easy for the government to control: the technology never made it to the black market. As a police officer, Jeanne understood the danger if synthesized bodies fell into the hands of the mafia.
But using Ron's example, one could conclude that the synthesans looked completely human. This was also true of Ramirez's slaves, who had died so ignominiously trying to capture the capsule. Looking at them, it was hard to believe that you were not a human being, but a complex biorobot. It was even harder to believe that you yourself were just a copy of your consciousness placed in a body that mimicked a human one.
Jeanne shook her head, “What kind of stupid thoughts am I having?”
The rifle alert appeared in the interface: the scanning detected two more suspicious moving targets. The direction of the targets was indicated by red markings going out of sight. One to the north, the other to the northwest.
She shifted her scope, detecting two more figures in the distance. Both wore the same crude attire and bore identical fixed grins. They trudged through the grass, bent under the weight of enormous backpacks.
"What's the matter with you?" Jeanne wondered. "What's all the smiling?"
The third opponent was moving with the same backpack on his back, with the same smile halfway down his face.
It was only then that Jeanne realized the true extent of the similarity. Not just the clothes, shotguns, and eerie smiles were identical—their facial features were exact copies of each other.
Ron ordered the buildbot to remove the backpack from the cowering stranger and strap a manipulator around his legs.
— ! —
Buildbot 005 warns that you are asking to capture a synthetic organism with the manipulator, information about which is missing in the database. There is a high probability that your colleague will not like your actions against him.
Warning: misconduct against other synthesans is punishable under the laws of the Colonial Constitution. Are you sure you want to proceed with the capture of the unknown synthesan?
"Yes, yes, yes," Ron confirmed impatiently. He made a mental note to disable all safety messages. Locus was not a planet where anyone enforced the Colonial Constitution.
Ron moved two meters closer to the prisoner and focused his gaze expectantly. A second later, he received the shell data:
— Joe Wenzel, bot 1,023 —
Status: "Free advice from Joe! Don't piss me off, I have a lot of bots and you only have you."
Attributes: No data
Social equalization rating: No data
Home base: No data
Ron froze, bewildered. "Who are these bots? Hey, can you hear me?"
But no matter how much Ron tried to shout at the bot, it didn't respond. It only waved its eyes wildly around and kept moving, trying to get up. The 005's manipulator, however, held its position firmly.
Ron unzipped the backpack—it was full of pieces of iron ore.
"Are you an exploration geologist or something?" Ron asked. But the strange locusian didn't even look in his direction. Its movements became less frequent. Apparently, there was no stopping the loss of orgmat.
"Strange, why aren't you going through rebirth?" Ron asked, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. "And why aren't you answering me?"
Ron felt increasingly uneasy. He was alone on an alien planet. Jeanne, Trevor, and Meirong were the only people—synthesans—he could call close to him now. They had spent several years studying together at the colonist training center in Brisbane, Australia.
The center's mentor, who taught the "Psychology of Synthetic Personalities," had warned that for the first one or two hundred hours of their lives, the thought of their own unreality would haunt a synthesan.
"You will experience all the sensations of the first people who moved their consciousness into the virtual world of Adam Online," she had said. "The most important thing is to not let those feelings become your primary sensations. Don't let doubts overshadow your goals. Live actively, breathe deeply. And don't think that your body is just imitating the behavior of your real body. Remember, this body is your real body. You are not a copy—you are a variation. And it is in your power to become the best variation of the original."
From the first second of his arrival in this new world, Ron had separated himself from the Ron from whom the copy had been taken. But now he almost lost his sense of reality...
A shotgun blast dispelled all his doubts. The second shot cemented his belief in the reality of what was happening.
Unable to see where the shots were coming from, Ron hid behind the buildbot again, scanning his surroundings. The interface transmitted data from UniCom:
Durability: 957 / 1,000
At the top of the hill, Ron spotted a figure. The new arrival wore the same garment of unbending material, with a giant backpack towering behind him. This enemy moved more swiftly, stepping faster and aiming his shotgun with greater confidence. A wide, unsettling grin was frozen on his face, adding to the surrealism of the scene.
"I wish I could say I was finally seeing a friendly face," Ron shouted, "but your smile makes this even scarier."
As expected, the smiling newcomer didn't respond. Unfortunately, Ron couldn't repeat his previous maneuver with the buildbot, as 005 was occupied with holding the wounded enemy. Ron had no choice but to draw his pistol and fire.
The blue discharges of the "Colonist's Assistant" flew in all directions, but none of them hit the target.
"Some assistant," Ron muttered.
An unexpected shotgun blast rang out behind him, taking thirty units off the UniCom's strength. Ron spun around: another identical figure had emerged from behind the containers of building materials unloaded from the capsule's airlock. An enormous backpack, twice as big as its bearer, towered over his head.
This newcomer had apparently been approaching Ron for some time. While Ron had been fighting the first enemy and examining the backpack, this one had been slowly but surely closing in from the rear. The fixed smile on its face resembled a smirk.
"I'm sick of you!" Ron growled.
He armed himself again, gripping a magnetic-force wrench in his right hand and a plasma cutter in his left. Then he rushed at the slow-moving enemy.
Calculating the time until the next shot, he activated a mode on his wrench:
Pushback
Creates a defocused magnetic-force field at a distance. This mode allows you to move heavy and large objects.
Field size depends on Touch: 60 cm
Field creation range depends on Perception: 20 cm
Push force depends on Force: 20
Warning: This mode is not recommended for moving fragile objects or complex electronics. Use hands or buildbot manipulators for such items.
Caution: Do not attempt to push colleagues away with the magnetic-force wrench! It causes extremely unpleasant sensations. Remember: Jokes on a construction site end in accidents!
Orgmat consumption: 10 units per second of use
Recharge time: 12 seconds
The magnetic-force wrench's defense was weak, but it repelled some of the shot charges and weakened others, reducing the damage.
Without hesitation, Ron thrust forward his hand holding the plasma cutter, still set to "Heating" mode. In seconds, the bot's shotgun glowed red-hot, but it didn't release its grip. Something crackled inside the weapon as smoke billowed out.
The heat caused all the cartridges in the magazine to explode. The shotgun shattered, its charges and shrapnel piercing the smiling face and body of the enemy. The bot's left hand was torn off, and it staggered but didn't fall, though the giant backpack threatened to drag it backward.
Eerily silent, the enemy turned around, its scarred face still locked in a smile, and began to walk away as if embarrassed.
"I'm speechless!" Ron shouted. "Where do you think you're going?"
While the plasma cutter recharged, Ron used Pushback on the magnetic-force wrench. The defocused field struck the bot in the back, finally toppling it face-first, crushed beneath the weight of its enormous backpack.
