| |
––––––––
I FLEW UP to the fourteenth floor of the corncob without even losing my breath. Finally my virt pod! How I missed it! The black plastic lid obediently slid back with a light touch, revealing a soft cushion below. So, what the heck is this?! On the plastic side of the virt pod there was a scrawling nasty inscription scratched in: “Gnat is a greedy son of a bitch!!!”
My excellent spirits after the early release fizzled out a bit. I looked pensively at this local example of “cave painting.” I wonder who I offended this time and how. After all, it couldn’t have been some unknown beginner who just entered the game and only knew me through rumors. No, the guards let this person enter corncob number fifteen, which meant they worked here. And that meant they started playing the game approximately the same time as I did – somewhere around seven weeks ago. By local standards, that would make them a pretty respectable player at level forty or maybe even fifty, but here they were behaving no better than a schoolyard bully...
And in theory it wouldn’t be all that hard to find out who this bully was. Everything under the Dome was recorded on security cameras, and I knew for a fact there was one pointed directly at my gaming cabin. Just check the footage from the last two days and it would be settled. The vandal that damaged this valuable technology would be revealed. But first of all, I wasn’t feeling up to going back down fourteen floors to tell someone about an incident that really wasn’t that significant. And second, sure they could find the player, but then what? They wouldn’t be expelled from the faction or anything. They’d just put the fear of god into them and let the person go.
But nevertheless, I was in no rush to enter the game. Instead, I walked over to the thick glass window and took in the view over the subterranean Dome from fourteen stories up. There were no people in the park or on any of the athletic fields. And that was no surprise. Leng Tarasov still had them all on combat alert, and everyone was in the game preparing to repel an invasion of Relict Faction marauders. Hrm... I breathed a heavy sigh. What a shame. That was how I became an outsider to the Dome players. And although this was a world away from what happened before – at the very least no one was coming after me with fists and brass knuckles – nevertheless it was hard to count on friendship while in charge of a faction most players considered an enemy. So I was in for more and more expressions of discontent like this one.
And though after my release I was on the verge of changing my mind about obtaining a new exit point into the real world – in the end the Dome curators learned their lesson and would be much more cautious before giving me another shake-down – now I wanted again to get rid of the invisible but all too palpable target on my back. With such unhappy thoughts in mind, I entered the game. So, what’s changed? I opened my character sheet:
Leng Gnat. Human. Relict Faction. | |
Level-92 Listener | |
Statistics: | |
Strength |
14 |
Agility |
18 |
Intelligence |
33 + 5 |
Perception |
29 + 2 |
Constitution |
17 |
Luck modifier |
+3 |
Drones |
2 |
Parameters: | |
Hitpoints |
2080 of 2080 |
Endurance points |
1519 of 1519 |
Magic points |
1798 of 1798 |
Carrying capacity |
62 lbs. |
Fame |
90 |
Authority |
77 |
Skills: | |
Electronics |
83 |
Scanning |
61 |
Cartography |
80 |
Astrolinguistics |
95 |
Rifles |
59 |
Mineralogy |
58 |
Medium Armor |
68 |
Eagle Eye |
85 |
Sharpshooter |
43 |
Targeting |
41 |
Danger Sense |
78 |
Psionic |
102 First specialization taken |
Mental Fortitude |
105 First specialization taken |
Machine Control |
100 First specialization taken |
Mysticism |
49 |
––––––––
I BLINKED BECAUSE I couldn’t believe my eyes at first. How much Fame now??? A +6 (!!!) boost to the figure, which Uline Tar said was the “hardest to level.” You just have to get your name doing the rounds on the galactic news for a day, then have that catch the eye of the rulers of a couple great spacefaring races. By the way, it would be hard for me to convince the Prelates of Tailax I was still reliable or at the very least neutral with such authoritative representatives of hostile governments publicly interceding on my behalf.
So, and what do we have here? I had already closed my character data, but there was an obtrusive message obstructing my field of view, this one bright red and in Relict:
Listener! The data you sent is of enormous value. Hierarch (a set of symbols I didn’t recognize, probably a personal name) needs your help. No allied military squadrons detected nearby. So you have been assigned an obligatory mission: to rescue (the same set of symbols) at any cost. As a reward you will be promoted in rank to rung two with corresponding change of class.
I spent a long time staring at the message. My mind was just wandering in complete disarray. What to do now? Drop everything and fly through hyperspace to the “pocket” where a flotilla of automatic Precursor hunters had spent the last few millennia besieging the ship of the Relict Hierarch? I doubt they’d be very happy to see me show up on the battlefield again. Most likely, the Symbiotes would simply destroy my starship so I wouldn’t trip them up, then continue the siege. But my mission didn’t proscribe a specific term of any kind. And if the Symbiotes hadn’t been able to get through the ancient starship’s defenses for several millennia, a couple more days or weeks wouldn’t make much difference.
I dismissed the message on the internal surface of my helmet faceplate, but another one instantly came to replace it:
Listener! In the most recent period, your share of data transmitted to the Pyramid was 100% An unbelievable result! The Relict hierarchs are proud of you! From this point forward, your Energy Armor may accept level-3 modifications (maximum). You have unlocked the front left arm slot for additional accessories and an additional drone slot. You have also been permitted to change gender ahead of schedule.
Searching for available units...
Searching for available units...
I was really hoping the game system was looking for a drone and not a gender-change unit. Otherwise, I was in for a huge shock and my wife Minn-O La-Fin a massive disappointment. But I already knew how the drone search would end – there was nothing compatible in the nearest sector of the galaxy. However, I was mistaken!
Appropriate unit found.
You have received a Large Relict Guard Drone.
Large?! Very interesting! I had already witnessed the impressive combat capabilities of a Small Guard Drone with my own eyes. A Large one was probably even deadlier. Now I just had to figure out where that drone was. I opened the drones tab. And in fact, a Large Relict Guard Drone had been added to the list. And how long would it take to reach me?
Estimated time in flight: 344,802 years, 87 days, 6 hours, 52 minutes.
I was planning to figure this out the same way I’d found the small drone, by gathering flight-time data from a few points and giving them to the Navigator to find the end point. But I noticed the flight time was within a few minutes of the Small Guard Drone’s. That could not be a coincidence! By all appearances, my two drones were at the same base, which was lost somewhere in space. Okay then, that just raised the priority of flying there as quickly as possible!
* * *
“THE CAPTAIN HAS RETURNED!” my coming to the common room of the starship was met with a storm of utterly sincere jubilation from the crew.
Uline and the twin brothers Vasha and Basha just about strangled me in their embraces, while the rest of my team was just about as extreme in their reaction. Minn-O gave me a big kiss. The guys shook me by the hand. All three Kirsan repair bots slithered out of wall gaps and enthusiastically wriggled their many arms, greeting their captain and at the same time showing that they had followed me to my new ship. Even the spiny Jarg wrapped all eight of his tentacled arms around my right leg and left me with a few dark spots of smelly mucus on my armored boot to remember him by.
“Big joy. The highest expression of feeling,” the spiny Analyst explained through the Universal Translator.
I’d have to get the armor cleaned somewhere now... But still it was damn nice to know I was loved and valued! Then I noticed Gerd Undi Ar Miyeyauu the Miyelonian Journalist standing near the noisy group and recording with a professional camera attached to her helmet while making commentary for her viewers.
I had to immediately turn serious as to match the image of a stern captain. I asked the officers whether the ship was ready for takeoff and they reported back that modernization had been complete for a while, systems had been checked and the frigate was ready for takeoff. The only thing they were waiting for was me. I ordered all starship systems prepared for takeoff and requested the corresponding permission from the station dispatchers. Half of the crew immediately ran to their places.
“Allow me to present your two new Gunners,” Uline Tar informed me with clear pride at a job well done, turning on her tablet and showing me their resumes.
Taik Rekh. Geckho. Clan Waideh-Rekh. Level-111 Gunner.
Gerd Eeeezzz 777. Meleyephatian. Renegade Nest 55. Level-163 Gunner.
“They are now both at their workstations calibrating the targeting systems and setting them up to their liking. There were another six that wanted to join our crew, but I told them to take a hike. Their level was too low, and they had no combat experience. The days when we would take any old person are behind us. Now you are famous, so lots of people would love to join the crew of successful Captain Leng Gnat. That means we can afford to be choosy and take only the best of the best. These two are veterans of large wars and many local conflicts. Just the clan name Waideh-Rekh is itself the highest recommendation and confirmation of mastery you could ask for. They don’t take soldiers that aren’t worth their salt. Eeeezzz 777 then is quite old by Meleyephatian standards but spent over sixty tongs in the military and another chunk of time with pirates, including serving as a mercenary under the Planet Devouress of Betelgeuse, Kung Eesssa – a celebrated Meleyephatian commander of what was once the galaxy’s largest private military company. Because of that, Eeeezzz’s services come at three times the price of normal gunners, but I’m sure he’ll be worth it.”
Okay then, awesome! I finally would have real professional Gunners. Looking over the changes since I was last here, I strolled through the decks, peeking into residential rooms and utility areas. The standard of the works was just amazingly high. I had nothing to say.
I walked to the captain’s bridge. Woah! Now that is impressive! In the middle of a small round room, there was a glowing three-dimensional tactical screen displaying the position of nearby objects in space. In front of me, a whole hemispherical wall was showing an image from external cameras and giving the complete illusion of transparency and forward view. To the left and right were two pilot’s chairs specially adapted for human use and already occupied by Dmitry Zheltov and San-Doon who were testing the thrusters. Past the star map was the Navigator’s seat with Ayukh in it, then my workstation, which had a large screen displaying the status of all starship systems and data from the ship scanners. And to the left of that was another empty chair. I wonder who that is for? I raised an inquisitive gaze to Uline.
“I have seen similar Meleyephatian starships where that place is occupied by a senior tactics or communications officer or the captain’s senior bodyguard,” my business partner explained. “But our crew doesn’t have any of those positions.”
I didn’t like that... An empty seat meant unrealized possibilities. Should I place the Bodyguard there to take a portion of my damage (from high G-forces for example) and put me more at ease? But Denni Marko would be leaving soon and my crew didn’t have any other Bodyguards. After a moment of thought, I lit up:
“But we do have an Analyst! There are times when I need the Jarg’s advice urgently. Especially in tense combat situations. It would also be helpful for him to be able to get more information so he can make better prognoses. So I say we give it to...” Damn! I had again forgotten the hard-to-pronounce name of my crewmember and looked at my notes, “ Uii-Oyeye-Argh-Eeyayo.”
“But he’s a Jarg...” Uline was not able to finish, but clearly wanted to mention his race’s explosive tendencies, which could lead to everyone on my bridge being stuck with hundreds of sharp quills.
“The instability of Jargs is greatly exaggerated, as is their lack of control over the self-destruction process. Our Analyst has been with us in some very sticky situations including during a space battle, an emergency landing and when our ship was attacked on the asteroid. And he was calmer than many others. But to reassure everyone, we could place a transparent defensive dome around the Analyst’s seat. Uh... what?”
I didn’t finish because my wayedda Gerd Minn-O La-Fin had come into the room and was insistently pulling me out by the arm:
“Husband, let’s go. I want to show you our new berth! I picked out all the decor myself!”
The Princess was behaving somewhat strange. It felt like she had something else in mind. What did she mean “our berth?” I was assuming I’d be staying alone in the captain’s berth. But I didn’t argue or make a scene. I just got up from my seat, thanked everyone for a job well done and asked my business partner Gerd Uline Tar to quickly get in touch with her fiancé Kosta Dykhsh to reassure him about their wedding and tell the Viceroy of Earth that I had already been released. Then I followed Minn-O up the stairs to the second deck.
My berth, as it turned out, was in the right fuselage closest to the stairs. I walked inside the small room and took a look around. Neon lighting, new futuristic furniture, interactive “living” wallpaper. A huge landing strip of a bed. A desk for working at with a massive data screen. Trophies and souvenirs on the walls taken from the old frigate and brought to the new ship in the exact same condition they were in before. Okay then, nice and comfy!
Behind me, I heard the click of the magnetic lock closing. I turned with a smile, figuring my wife missed me and wanted to test out our new bed. But Minn-O’s face didn’t even have a hint of glee, and certainly no indication of amorous intent.
“Husband, we need to have a serious talk about a new problem. I’m referring to the situation with the Paladin girl Tamara.”
I winced, bracing myself for the worst. Was my Chief Advisor not able to stay the execution? Or was it perhaps carried out ahead of schedule? Or did Tamara break under torture? But none of the ideas that came to mind were correct. Seeing no comprehension on my face, Princess Minn-O La-Fin realized I’d spent the last day and a half in isolation without access to news, and explained it all on her own:
“Our advisor Mac-Peu did as you ordered. In your name, he had the criminal transferred from the Tower of the Damned, to a normal if well-guarded prison. However... yesterday, despite the large number of guards, the prison was stormed by a crowd numbering in the thousands. The walls were blown up in three places, the detainees were freed, and prison guards for the most part were slaughtered. The few surviving guards say it was a ghastly sight: the crowd was running straight into the machine-gun fire, utterly unconcerned for their own lives. The fanatics died by the hundreds, but just kept running forward, shouting abusive slogans toward the mage-rulers. And some of the attackers were carrying placards with Tamara’s portrait, while the majority of them were wearing yellow bandannas with the words: ‘As good as dead. Not afraid to die. Emancipation from Mage Tyranny.’“
Minn-O La-Fin was clearly afraid, and I understood her fears perfectly well. In her world, the power of the mage-rulers was maintained only through fear. If that went away, the few mages would be simply torn to shreds by the no-longer obedient masses because, for every person born with magical talent, more than one hundred thousand were born with no sorcerous abilities. Perhaps the political structure had remained solid until now, but recent events at the funeral of Coruler Thumor-Anhu La-Fin and especially the Ruling Council showed that mages were also mortal, and it was completely possible to kill them.
I did my best to reassure my wife and asked her to tell me what happened next.
“What’s to tell? Communications weren’t working near the prison at the time, which speaks to treachery and sabotage. Furthermore, there is evidence that some of the guards changed sides and joined the rebels, stabbing the others in the backs, then opening the main gates. That was how they managed to pull off their scheme and take the prison. A group of military consultants who came a few hours later reported that most prisoners had fled and, among the hundreds of dead bodies, there was not a single one matching the description of the girl from the other world. I’m afraid I don’t know where Tamara the Paladin is now or whether she is still alive at all. But even if Tamara died in the mayhem, she has already become a symbol of the antimage uprising. And that is truly frightening!”
